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I arrived in Colombia in August of 2014 on a Fulbright grant to research La Liga de Mujeres Desplazadas (The League of Displaced Women). They lived, for the time being, on the outskirts of Cartagena in a municipality called Turbaco, where La Liga had built over a hundred cinder block homes for victims of ‘internal displacement’ with the help of a human rights lawyer from Bogotá and a couple of international grants. Over the course of 10 months I met a number of original members of this organization and of other groups that meet, advocate, and fight for the advancement of women whose realities have been adversely shaped by the ongoing armed conflict in Colombia.
Since the supposed inception of this complex civil conflict in 1964 some 220,000 have lost their lives and countless more have been maimed, abducted, and sexually assaulted. However, one of the lesser known impacts has been the forced removal of citizens from the places where they have been rooted, the places on which their social and economic security -- however humble -- depends. The number of Colombians driven from their homes by the conflict continues to rise towards the 6 million mark, although some sources say it has already surpassed that figure. Internal displacement, as it is euphemistically called, is the pressing theme of the country today; it has overwhelmed large cities and small pueblos alike; the government is aware but entirely out of its depth in terms of forming solutions. The crisis is exactly that and deserves international attention now as much as during any other time over the nearly 60 years of the conflict, to date. While refugees from Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan and Africa pour across European borders, attracting wide international media coverage, the crisis in Colombia “looks” less like desperate refugees fleeing war, than scenes of women, children, and displaced campesinos struggling to survive in places not their own, attempting to carve out a new life with neither capital nor community, in hostile, already ‘at capacity’ zones.
More information below. For captions click on the individual images.
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Additional Resources:
Centro Nacional de Memoria Histórica
Washington Office on Latin America
La Liga de Mujeres Desplazadas
Most of the women I met came from places where subsistence farming was key to a healthy, “rich” life: they would often tell me that once, they’d had everything they needed. The beauty and abundance of Colombia has also been part of its downfall: many of these women lived in areas exploited by armed groups (FARC, AUC/paramilitary, ELN, government armies, drug traffickers, big business) to get at other armed groups in the ‘war on drugs.’ As always, the victims are the innocents caught in the crosshairs of greed-fueled violence and struggles for economic dominance.
These portraits and scenes of daily life were taken while getting to know these courageous leaders and their families, in communities and barrios far away from the bustling tourist zone of Cartagena’s “walled” and “romantic” colonial center. For these women, Cartagena is no vacation. Every day they must forge ahead, put food on the table, keep their children (and themselves) safe, and try to just “live” -- against all odds. These women seek humanitarian aid from the government, which rarely arrives; they seek out access to schools, health centers, and police protection in their communities -- a bureaucratic and logistical nightmare -- as well as access to affordable housing on the outskirts of Cartagena. All deserve housing after fleeing the nightmare of the armed conflict, but many still have not received promised government assistance. If one doesn’t register as a ‘victim’ in the system, one is not entitled to anything, and even so, humanitarian aid is never timely. It was only in 2011 that newly elected President Santos acknowledged the existence of millions of people who had been internally displaced; a verbal acknowledgement of a truth everyone already knew. #Politics.
I spent almost a year in various neighborhoods far outside of Cartagena’s historical district. The money being spent on hotels and the tourism industry is outgrowing the need for tour guides, places to stay, or food, while the needs of Cartageneros/as continues to grow every day. Those on the fringes of Cartagena - most noticeably the struggling working class, Afro-descendants, indigenous, displaced, or women - are constantly swimming upstream without much infrastructure or help from government agencies/offices. If all of these things - Afro-descendant, indigenous or ‘mixed’ race, displaced, and a woman - finding solutions to the very basic needs of daily life can be overwhelming and often times impossible. To paraphrase James Baldwin, it becomes very expensive to be poor.
When the NYTimes published its “36 Hours In...” piece on Cartagena in September of 2014, I noticed that all of the photographs and video were taken within the walled portion of El Centro and just across the street from the Clock Tower in Getsemaní on Calle Media Luna. I found it deplorable and embarrassing that their time was dedicated to shooting and editing talk of “linen clothes,” ice cream, and gelato spots (“to-beat-the-heat”) when the pressing issues of the city (and country) are so very clear. You want to talk about linen?!?!
I began to see the incredible PR scheme that is Jet Blue tied in with a harmful and reductive tourism culture, and Cartagena’s highly privileged elites that includes both Colombian and foreign, who seek to privatize the location entirely for profit. The tours that should be given of this city lie at least one and half hours by bus outside of the ‘bustling’ tourism district of the Caribbean’s crown jewel, Cartagena de Indias.
Most of the women I worked with arrived in Cartagena between the late 90s and early 2000s, forcibly driven out by their respective pueblos around Colombia (from Chocó to Antioquia to the mountain range behind Santa Marta). Many of them are also survivors of sexual assault, domestic violence, the death/s of loved ones/partners/family members. All of these women live day-to-day, none are ‘salaried’ or have a solid job. Some rely on partners or family members, some sell perfume, iron or wash clothes. Many of these leaders (like Yuris and Maria) could not do the organizing work they do and also keep a ‘steady’ job. None plan on returning to where they are from, even though they have also been targeted (as they reported to government entities in Cartagena) by other armed groups who seek dominance of urban areas like Cartagena. Yuris, Maria, and Gavelys have all been sent personal text messages by members of ERPAC (Ejercito Revolucionario Popular Anticommunista/Antisubversivo de Colombia - paramilitary descendants) as far back as 2011 and as recently as 2015. The response time from the Office of Victims was four years; decidedly too slow.
Of the many things I learned from Gavelys this past year, one of her adages was: “Ni pa’ tras pa’ recoger dinero,” a motto that roughly means “Always keep moving forward - never look back, not even to pick up money left on the ground.”