"To all Peruvians, victims of the longest and most painful period of violence that our country has suffered. We hope that this process that we have started brings us closer to justice and lasting peace."

- Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission, August 29, 2003

A few weeks ago, I unknowingly walked over these solemn words written upon a stone plaque embedded into Ayacucho’s main plaza. The parting thoughts of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission – the final accent upon its two-year assignment to document a civil conflict that orphaned thousands of children, extinguished multiple generations of families, and witnessed the massacre of Peruvians at the hands of Peruvians – remain an elusive dream five years later.

Over the last three months, my experience with the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF) has opened my eyes to the subtle nuances of national histories steeped in criminal disregard, flagrant racism, and enduring contradiction.

So what have I learned?

Peruvians are caught between competing headwinds – a confluence of forces that pits the restoration of identity and memory against pressures to cast Peru’s past aside and ride favorable economic forecasts into the unblemished distance.

Potential reconciliation of these disparate interests hinges upon the harmonization of two histories in Peru, which figuratively exhibit the properties of oil and water – one of large-scale genocide of poor, Quechua-speaking rural indigenous peoples in the 1980s and a second urban history, which witnessed the civil conflict’s ugly excess most visibly taint the city walls of Lima in the 1990s.

Peru, recently confronted with images of both histories, must now decide whether it truly wants to remember or forget. The exhumation of the largest mass grave found in Peruvian history in Putis in May and the final Christian burial of those who lost their lives at La Cantuta in July place one tragedy from each historical narrative side-by-side. Instead of being separated by 18 years, 14 hours in bus, and the soaring Andes, the relatives of those killed in Putis and La Cantuta appear only pages apart in local newspapers, connected by mutual suffering. The former speak Quechua as their first language, the latter Spanish. Do Peruvians see both as Peruvians, or do they still see indigenous peoples as “the other?”

As the symbolic end of one crusade for justice now gives way to the beginning of another, 24 years in waiting, EPAF’s fight for the disappeared situates a group of dedicated forensic anthropologists, biologists, and archeologists at the center of the enduring debate. Equating impunity with forgetfulness, EPAF is helping to rewrite the country’s history to reflect the experiences of all Peruvians still suffering the absence of their loved ones. In the words of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission, how much closer have the Peruvian people come to justice and lasting peace?

The answer – closer, but not nearly close enough.

The ongoing trial of former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori undoubtedly represents a historic moment in Peruvian history, the apex of a pivotal effort made by the Peruvian state shortly after 2000 to deliver justice after the Fujimori administration crumbled under evidence of rampant corruption and alleged indifference toward human rights violations. Many Peruvians who fled the Shining Path’s terror abroad call Fujimori a hero for having presided over the capture of Shining Path leader Abimael Guzmán, questioning the legitimacy of trying a man credited by many with bringing peace to a war-ravaged country. Others describe the trial as the defeat of impunity, as polemic figures such as Fujimori advisor Vladimiro Montesinos and ex-members of the Colina death squad are finally tried and sentenced for their abuses.

Yet under the radiant glow of Fujimori’s trial, its celebrated implications for the fight against impunity across the world, and the significant progress made within Peru’s specially created Anti-Corruption system to specifically try cases related to abuses committed during the Fujimori administration, a host of parallel storylines threaten to once again divide Peruvians by the very justice system purported to serve all equally.

In August 2003, the Truth Commission sent 47 representative cases of human rights violations to the Public Ministry for investigation. Five years later, almost half of these cases are still under preliminary investigation. Where are the majority of these cases? Most are within the criminal prosecutor’s office in Ayacucho – massacres that took place deep in the removed Andes, where 40 percent of all victims, mostly Quechua-speaking indigenous peoples, were killed. How many of the 47 have sentences? Five, or approximately 11 percent.

In contrast, the Anti-Corruption system based in Lima, created shortly after Fujimori fled Peru in late 2000 to try the excesses of the 1990s, has opened 245 legal cases as of August 2008, approximately 29 percent of which have sentences. According to Pedro Gamarra, the second highest state prosecutor within the Anti-Corruption system, the higher sentence rate can be attributed to a more centralized legal apparatus, most if not all information requests to government entities are quickly returned within 15-30 days, almost all of the accused reside in Lima and are easily located, and a significant budget exists to handle new and pending cases. Few historical cases, if any, remain in preliminary investigation, Gamarra says.

So what’s the holdup on the truth commission cases? Annual reports from the state’s public defender office on their progress have identified a lack of resources, the inability to easily access areas of investigation, high prosecutor turnover rates, and the Ministry of Defense’s delay in providing information as four contributing reasons. In practice, when the state’s team of forensic anthropologists, the Institute of Legal Medicine (IML), was solicited by the prosecutor in Ayacucho in October 2007 to conduct the exhumations of five mass graves in Putis, they refused, citing security issues given reports of narco-traffickers in the area. When the prosecutor requested from the Ministry of Defense the names of those who worked at the military base set up in September 1984 near Putis, the ministry said the corresponding records no longer exist.

So if the IML won´t exhume, and the Ministry of Defense refuses to release information, and local prosecutors in Ayacucho don´t have the resources nor the time to visit remote sites like Putis, how long will Quechua-speaking indigenous peoples have to wait for justice? Will the Peruvian state fund efforts in the highlands the same way they currently fund efforts against Fujimori? Is there a judicial solution?

Working with EPAF has shown me the value of human rights work from a humanitarian perspective, not just a single-dimensional judicial one where prosecutors search for the minimum evidence necessary to file a legal case without understanding the critical importance of thorough identification to the families of the disappeared. Amid the most recent estimates of 13,000-15,000 disappeared persons in Peru and climbing, the state has only exhumed approximately 500, less than half of which have been identified. Civil society organizations like EPAF must be given a greater role in helping Peru rebuild its collective memory by re-establishing the individual memories of those disappeared of whom many, given the Truth Commission´s incomplete final tally of 8,558 disappeared persons, don´t exist.

While bold efforts made to punish the perpetrators of abuses committed under Fujimori represent a laudable victory in the fight for human rights, Peru´s elusive dream truly hinges upon the ability of Peruvians to reject the caustic notion of seeing Peru´s indigenous peoples as the disposable "other" and embrace the entire history of the Peruvian conflict as their own. This type of lasting peace, reconciliation, and justice -- no truth commission or trial can deliver.

"It´s hard to understand and accept death when you don´t see the effects of it."
- Gisela Ortiz, referring to the pain of a disappeared loved one

In my final installment of interviews related to the ongoing Fujimori trial and the current state of human rights in Peru, I bring back a familiar face.

On the first day of the Cantuta memorials at the EPAF office, I had the opportunity to sit down with Gisela Ortiz, sister of fallen La Cantuta student Luis Enrique Ortiz. Ortiz, who had enrolled at the university at La Cantuta with plans to teach linguistics and literature, was just 20 years old when her brother was disappeared by the Colina death squad on July 18, 1992.

For the last 16 years, Ortiz has fought incessantly in honor of the Cantuta 10, relegating her studies, career, and the potential of a family of her own to the side. Her own personal ventures - including helping run her family´s small pharmacy in Chachapoyas and the cultivation of a small organic coffee farm - came to a standstill once legal proceedings began against Colina.

Since the restitution of her brother´s remains and their subsequent burial a few days later, Ortiz now awaits the sentencing of Fujimori as the last necessary piece in her 16-year fight for justice. Her work on behalf of victims of Peru´s brutal civil conflict, however, is far from over.

Part II

From today´s issue of La Republica ...

"The Victims of La Cantuta and Barrios Altos Were Not Terrorists"

Photo credit: Judicial Branch of Peru

Benedicto Jiménez, ex-chief of the Special Intelligence Unit of the counterterrorism police force under Fujimori and mastermind behind the capture of Shining Path leader Abimael Guzmán, testified Monday that the 25 victims killed by the Colina death squad in the Barrios Altos and La Cantuta massacres were not leaders, members, or bases of support of the Shining Path.

"It is inconceivable to think that a group of leaders or insurgents of the Shining Path lived together in Barrios Altos," Jiménez said. "These (leaders) lived dispersed and only got together for a predetermined activity. The kids of La Cantuta were musicians ... they were not subversive leaders. They were a group of artists that loved music and that was all it was. They were not responsible for the Tarata bombings."

The Peruvian political landscape is in flux. Weeks after Fujimori loyalists, or Fujimoristas, broke ranks with opposition forces within the National Congress to help Peruvian President Alan Garcia's APRA party win the presidency of the Congress in a 66-46 vote, the cushy relationship between Garcia loyalists, or Apristas, and Fujimoristas is causing some to cry foul.

The devil is truly in the details.

What do Fujimoristas have to gain? And how far will they go to have the party in power on their side? Many want Garcia to pardon Fujimori at the end of his term. Since the momentous agreement, reporters covering Peruvian politics are probing their informants within the walls of the Garcia administration. Their informants are delivering.

Surprise firings, secret meetings, an alleged abuse of power - and Fujimori is at the center of it all.

A final look at some of the headlines making news this weekend in Lima within La Republica and Caretas, including the latest political scandal to grip the Andean state ...

"The Farse Took Three Days"

Former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori's original incarceration orders allowed him to receive visits only from direct family members for four hours, two days a week. Yet since Fujimori celebrated his 70th birthday on July 28 in the company of a host of musicians and close friends, press reports have uncovered that Fujimori has lived the high life in prison - including unlimited phone calls and visits from non-family members.

In February, reportedly under pressure from her superiors, Justice Minister Rosario Fernández made a special request of Leonardo Caparrós, the head of the national jail system, to modify Fujimori's incarceration arrangements, arguing for a more "flexible" setup. Capparós refused. Three months later, Caparrós was called during a separate meeting between Fernández and a Fujimorista congressman.

A month later, Fujimori's attorney, César Nakazaki, submitted a request to modify Fujimori's setup to Caparrós. Within three days, his order was modified, allowing Fujimori to receive unrestricted visits for eight hours, three days a week.

On Saturday, the state prosecutor's office said Caparrós and others may have committed crimes if an ongoing investigation confirms they facilitated the modification of Fujimori's orders. A final report is expected in 20 days.

"San Román: I Warned Fujimori that Montesinos Was Linked to the [Barrios Altos] Massacre"

Former Peruvian Vice-President Máximo San Román testified under oath before the Fujimori tribunal Friday that Fujimori ignored an intelligence report given to him in March 1992 that stated that his loyal advisor Vladimiro Montesinos and a group of military soldiers were involved in the Barrios Altos massacre.

San Román, who said Fujimori said nothing after receiving the document, said the report explained the details of the Barrios Altos operation, the actions that took place, and the errors committed by those involved.

"Prosecutor Hands Over 37 Cadavers of the Victims of a Massacre in Huancavelica"

Seventeen years after the Shining Path killed 37 seniors, women, and children, the Public Ministry returned the bodies of those killed to their relatives in a special ceremony Friday in Ayacucho.

The relatives will take their loved ones to Santo Tomas de Pata, the site of the massacre, to bury them. According to reports, the Shining Path entered the community with 300 forces strong after they received news that the community was organizing itself as a self-defense community in opposition to the insurgent group.

"Peru has suffered so much because of terrorism - that of the state, and that of the subversive groups. We must demand justice." - Fedor Muñoz, speaking at the burial of his fallen brother and professor Hugo Muñoz Sanchez

Now two weeks after the burial of the Cantuta 10, I remember a few stanzas from the poem I reproduced in my first blog.

"Huamanguino," originally written in the indigenous language of Quechua by Ranulfo Fuentes, a Peruvian songwriter and high school teacher from Ayacucho, recounts the disappearance of a young man dragged from his home at the hour of "deepest sleep."

III
Months and years have passed
Where could he be?
Perhaps under the stony ground
becoming earth
or among the thorns
budding like wild flowers.

IV
Soon he will return, he will come back
like rain for the crops
to make the seeds sprout
like the sun at dawn
that makes flowers bloom.

On July 19, the martyrs of Cantuta received their Christian burial at El Angel cemetery. Disappeared in the rocky hills of Cantuta for years, they finally returned.

Yet many in Peru still wait. Recent estimates of the total number of disappeared in Peru now exceed 15,000. Fewer than 1,000 have so far been found. Of those found, less than half have been identified. While relatives of Cantuta now await the condemnation of former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori, many families simply want to know where their loved ones are – and to bury them with dignity.

The ceremonial burial invoked songs, chants demanding justice, and flags declaring "student integration" – the latter representing a new student movement determined to create a consciousness around human rights in Lima.

The ceremony also included the singing of "Flower of Retama," a song written in honor of 20 peasants and students killed by paramilitaries in the city of Huanta in 1969 after "Huantinos" challenged a decree instituted by the then-military government ending free secondary education. The song, written by Ricardo Dolorier in December 1970, became increasingly associated with subversive movements in the 1980s, including the Shining Path - despite aclarations by its author of the song´s original meaning.

Surrounded by their relatives, members of the larger Cantuta community, and other supporters, the fallen Cantuteños claimed their dignified final resting place - together.

Part II

"Yes, there was a certain influence of subversive groups such as the Shining Path and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement on campus, but in no way did this mean that every student at La Cantuta was a terrorist. However, a stigma had already been created - to be a student at Cantuta meant you were a terrorist. In spite of these difficulties, we as students tried to challenge these assumptions, we tried to show with our attitudes that in no way were we linked to any subversive movement, even through our good academic performance. It was easy to prove - we were good students and so we had no reason to believe these suspicions would fall on us." - Gisela Ortiz, sister of fallen student Luis Enrique Ortiz, testimony before the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission

Watching Gisela Ortiz walk with the coffin of her brother on her shoulder through the campus of La Cantuta was stirring. As I walked beside her, filming her recite every name of the Cantuta 10, I felt the accumulating weight of every subsequent name.

From the moment I jumped out of my car upon arriving to Cantuta, I could acutely feel the Cantuta community. For 16 years, they had suffered the absence of their fallen brethren, and today they had returned. Hundreds of students surrounded the funeral cars, chanting "Spilt blood will never be forgotten!" and "We will not forget, nor forgive. Punish those responsible!" I had stepped foot into an aching community's fight for justice.

Watch my trip to Cantuta on the 16th anniversary of the massacre ...

Part II

"For me, they are not dead. They are alive. They beat in our hearts." – Fedor Muñoz, brother of assassinated professor Hugo Muñoz

Under an unforgiving sun, I left the cemetery of El Angel late last Saturday afternoon. As of today, I have yet to shake the images of La Cantuta.

While filming my experience with the relatives of Cantuta, my ability to look dispassionately through the square lens of my digital camera was often tested. Everywhere I turned, I felt surrounded by a penetrating display of raw emotion - heartbreaking sadness, intense fierceness, and subdued acceptance. Over three days, I witnessed the culmination of a 16-year fight for justice - and in the process, I put the camera down, freeing myself from the distance felt behind the lens to join hands, shout chants, and become a part of the experience.

Last Thursday, relatives of Cantuta came to the EPAF office to spend a final moment with the remains of their loved ones. Joined by a host of different human rights organizations, including the Network for the Development of the Child and the Family (REDINFA), relatives shared amongst each other the stories of who their loved ones were and the memories that had never been forgotten. For Carmen Amaro, sister of assassinated student Armando Amaro Cóndor, it was her brother's love for Sikuri, music native to the Andean highlands, that reminded her of him.

Watch Thursday's special ceremony at the EPAF office ...

Peru is booming.

If one measures progress by traditional economic indicators, Peru shines brightly at the top of many economic forecasts for Latin America. Productivity is up, an increasing number of foreign companies want to invest in the Peruvian brand, and Peruvians are spending and buying more.

According to the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, Peru is now South America´s fastest growing economy. From February 2007-February 2008, Peru experienced a growth rate of 9.2 percent. In context, from 2000-2007, Latin America grew on average 3.5 percent annually. Peru, over the same time period, grew at an average rate of 5 percent.

But if one measures progress from a human rights perspective, you get a different answer. Who benefits from growth? If Peruvians are spending and buying more, who´s actually doing the spending? Do all Peruvians have the ability to access this newly created wealth? A few excerpts from a May 2008 article in The Economist shed some light on what some call Peru´s "progress" ...

"Yet there are paradoxes at the heart of the boom. Despite the growth, poverty has fallen only slowly ... The capital, the Pacific coastal strip and most of the north of the country are all thriving. The problem is the southern Andean region, where poverty reaches 70% of the population. Helped by tourism, mining and microcredit, some Andean cities, such as Cajamarca, Cusco, Huaraz and Huancayo, are prospering. The big divorce is with the surrounding, often mountainous, countryside, where many Andean Indians remain trapped in subsistence farming on small plots ... Better roads, education and social policy are all needed."

Peruse the 2007 Final Human Rights Report of the Coordinating Board of Human Rights in Peru released in June, and the picture becomes even murkier.

Five years after the release of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission´s final report, almost half of the cases sent by the commission to the Public Ministry for investigation are only in the preliminary investigation phase. The report also sharply criticizes the current administration of Peruvian President Alan Garcia for the enactment of decrees that have led to the aggravation of social conflicts, the criminalization of social protest, and the promotion of oil and mining projects despite concerns over their impact on the health of residents nearby. Approximately 85 percent of all social conflicts registered in 2007 occurred within rural areas that suffer from poverty or extreme poverty.

Both factual narratives paint very different pictures. Within this context, I share the second installment of my interview series exploring the Fujimori trial and its implications for human rights in Peru.

Meet Ronald Gamarra, the secretary general of the Coordinating Board of Human Rights in Peru. Gamarra, a lawyer by trade, formally represents civil society in the Fujimori trial. Years ago, Gamarra represented victims in the high-profile case against Alan Garcia before the Inter-American Court of Human Rights.

When Peruvian security forces stormed a prison that housed suspected leftist guerrillas on the island of El Frontón in July 1986 to quell a Shining Path uprising, approximately 100 prisoners were killed extrajudicially. Garcia, also president of Peru from 1985-1990, was cleared of any wrongdoing. His detractors, including Gamarra, maintain his guilt.

Part II

"Podrán Matar Las Flores Pero Nunca Las Cantutas" ("They Can Kill The Flowers But Never Those of La Cantuta")

After my Saturday morning run, a quick stop to the newsstand to peruse the headlines reminded me of the aforementioned verse printed atop a flyer set on my desk late Friday.

"16 Years After the Horrendous Crime of Fujimori's Reign, the Remains of La Cantuta Are Returned"

One of the highest profile cases of the Peruvian civil conflict - the 1992 massacre of nine students and one professor of the National University of Education-La Cantuta in Lima - will reach symbolic conclusion next week.

Starting next Friday, 16 years to the day, the family members of those 10 Peruvians who lost their lives on July 18, 1992 will be reunited with those remains found of their loved ones. All will take part in a special mass and candlelight vigil before reburying the remains the following day in the El Angel cemetery.

The extrajudicial massacre occurred two days after the Shining Path's Tarata bombing in Lima, the first of a week-long bombing campaign paralyzing the city and killing approximately 40 people. The Tarata bombing was the clearest sign that the civil conflict - which had primarily unfolded in the Peruvian highlands - had finally arrived to Lima.

The state's response was quick, and the swift crackdown on terrorism meant universities historically known for left-wing politics and student protest, such as La Cantuta, became immediate targets. In May 1991, Fujimori led the military's first intervention into La Cantuta given media reports that the university was a hotbed of support for the Shining Path. The evening before, students noticed the university had been completely surrounded by military soldiers. Defiantly, the next morning, groups of students - many of whom were unaffiliated with any terrorist group - unsuccessfully blocked entrance into La Cantuta and threw rotten tomatoes at Fujimori and his military contingent, drawing fire.

The ensuing conflict changed La Cantuta forever, as students led mobilizations against a military that viewed all as potential terrorists. A month after the military took control of the university, the living quarters of those students who lived on campus were destroyed by dynamite blasts, forcing their relocation into two large dormitories where 120 students shared one bathroom. Students endured insults and death threats from military soldiers stationed at La Cantuta, and curfews were set in place from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m.

Three days before the massacre, on July 15, a group of students again mobilized at a meeting of the university assembly, rallying in opposition to a plan by university professors to go on strike. Many students viewed the suspension of academic activities as wholly unacceptable and feared La Cantuta would be closed.

Upon arriving to the meeting, the military lieutenant in charge of military operations at La Cantuta, Aquilino Portela, went to the front of the school auditorium, ordered all doors closed, declaring that all inside would die, that the "Third World War had begun." A professor confronted Portela, while students began to shout "Assassins!" The assembly abruptly ended, and Portela approached the group of students, declaring: "You have screwed yourselves. You will die as students."

The next day, the Tarata bombing took place in Lima, and students feared the military would descend upon La Cantuta. Those lucky to have family in Lima fled the university, while many others that hailed from distant provinces remained on campus.

Two days later, on July 18, members of the Peruvian Army Intelligence Service - those also connected with the infamous Colina death squad - raided the dormitories of nine students and one professor who they claimed were responsible for the Tarata bombing. They were beaten before all were transported to a remote location where their lives ended with gun shots to the head. The bodies were buried and later burned to hide what had happened.

Since their original exhumation, the remains have been under judicial custody to allow for scientific examinations designed to ascertain cause of death and the identify of the victims. In 2007, EPAF conducted the expert forensic and DNA analysis of the exhumed remains for the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, evidence later used by a Peruvian court in April 2008 to sentence four military officials to 15-35 years in jail for the massacre and legally establish the existence of Colina. Fujimori, Vladimiro Montesinos, and two other members of Colina are now being tried for their alleged responsibility in separate legal proceedings.

On my first tour of the EPAF office, I remember being led to a back room, next to two other rooms with long tables where forensic examinations take place. In the room, I saw a handful of boxes, marked "CANTUTA." I turned to my guide Silvia, and asked her, "Are those the bones of those killed in Cantuta?" She said yes. It has been a strange feeling at times to have read about Cantuta and find myself working now just two offices down from the remains set for burial Saturday.

Stay tuned for my video logs from the Cantuta memorial, in addition to a special interview with Gisela Ortiz, the sister of one of the assassinated students and the most vocal relative fighting for justice for those of Cantuta ...

For the last hour, I have been staring at the “Wireless Connection Status” window on my laptop. (And yes, this does get better.)

Since having serendipitously discovered wireless internet within a small corner of my room five days after arriving to Lima, I have squeezed most of my days between pockets of connective happiness. I do have internet at work during the week, and yes, internet cafes do exist in Lima. But over the years, I have grown so accustomed to internet at home that being online in the morning and at night has simply become second nature. And that, my friends, is most enjoyably done while half asleep and within inches of a half-made bed.

I vowed my days of internet cafes in Latin America were over when I noticed my often-taken-for-granted wireless network detector one day pop up, informing me with utmost modesty that it had for the 14,256th time successfully connected me to some available source of wireless internet. Given the non-existent connectivity of many residences in Latin America, including my present one, I praised my internet-savvy neighbors. Some stranger’s “linksys” connection was my ticket to instant placation of an insatiable habit in need of a quick fix.

But as of last Thursday, I was cut off. It’s just internet, though, right? During my 10 months abroad in rural Ecuador, my host mother often shouted across the house, “¡Se fue la luz!” (“Electricity’s gone!”) or “¡Se fue el agua!” (“The water’s gone!”) – a far cry from a lost internet connection.

A part of me thought, it could be a lot worse.

But no internet at home means more than a quick fix for a privileged dependence. Since arriving to Lima almost two months ago, I’ve relied on the internet to easily connect with my sister in Colombia, my family in Texas, and my friends in Austin and Washington, D.C. After struggling to navigate a new city and enduring a nasty stomach bug in a stranger’s home within weeks of arriving, I sometimes wonder if I’m built to do this kind of work by myself. As much as I love my work, it never seems to fully satisfy when I realize how far I am from home. The experience of being sick in a foreign country by myself is all the unpleasant information I’ve ever needed to realize the importance of a convenient way to stay in touch with the people who know you the best.

As I watch the “Wireless Connection Status” window and my wireless detector scroll through, and attempt in vain to connect to, a list of stored wireless connections that I’ve connected to over the past few years – Robledo, Spiderhouse, and 1306East28, to name a few – I am reminded of how far I am from a feisty Texan with a penchant for Corpus Christi hip-hop, an Austin coffee shop that reminds me of my formative college days, and a red-haired loved one entirely too far away.

"Mr. Fujimori has no responsibility for the acts that make up this trial." -- Vladimiro Montesinos, in reference to former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori´s alleged culpability in the Barrios Altos and La Cantuta massacres

The declarative statement was reprinted within countless newspapers across Lima this morning. The headlines, in reference to Montesinos´ much-anticipated testimony Monday, highlight the skepticism of the local press and the collegial atmosphere on display between Fujimori and his closest advisor: "Eternal Love," "Mientesinos," (a play on the Spanish verb, "mentir," meaning to lie) and "Montesinos came to absolve Fujimori."

Photo credit: peru.com

After three hours of interrogation on the stand, Montesinos abruptly exercised his right to silence. Before doing so, he denied Fujimori´s responsibility as well as his own for the Barrios Altos and La Cantuta massacres. He unequivocally stated that crimes could be committed if in the interest of the state. He affirmed there never was a "low-intensity war" against the Shining Path under Fujimori. He even justified the Peruvian state´s measures to eliminate the Shining Path by drawing historical comparison with those actions taken during the administration of U.S. President Ronald Reagan in 1986, when proceeds from unauthorized weapon sales to Iran were used to fund anti-communist Contras against the Sandinista insurgent movement in Nicaragua.

On numerous occasions, Fujimori was pictured smiling and laughing. Ronald Gamarra, the attorney representing the families in the trial, said Montesinos was looking for a future amnesty by absolving Fujimori of any responsibility. Gisela Ortiz, sister of one of the assassinated students in the case of La Cantuta, said she was disturbed by Montesinos´ arrogance: "Montesinos came with a script to absolve Fujimori of his responsibility."

I admit it, I'm a news junkie.

Here's what's making news this weekend in Peru, courtesy of La Republica and the BBC ...

"Montesinos To Testify Monday"

The much-awaited testimony of former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori's key advisor Vladimiro Montesinos in the Fujimori trial is finally set for Monday. The testimony was formally delayed due to requests made by Fujimori's attorney to have the tribunal adjourn on numerous occasions at mid-day given Fujimori's supposed delicate health after undergoing surgery. Others claim that Fujimori's defense team needed time to clarify what they could offer Montesinos in exchange for his favorable testimony.

Photo credit: journalperu.com

The burning question - Will Montesinos talk? The jury is still out. Some say he will preserve silence not to incriminate himself. Others say he may try to absolve Fujimori in return for a future amnesty. Montesinos has already been sentenced to 20 years in jail for giving firearms to the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia). The suspense ends at 9 a.m., Monday morning.

"Mass Graves Discovered In Peru"

Sound familiar? World Service, the BBC's international radio station, revisited EPAF's work in Putis for a special feature piece on its Friday broadcast. The EPAF story is the second of three fascinating stories from different parts of the world.

In addition, Jose Pablo Baraybar, executive director of EPAF, will be the featured guest Tuesday on Open Studio, an online interview program through the BBC's Spanish division BBC Mundo. Feeling brave, Spanish speakers? Click on the link and send the BBC a question to ask Jose Pablo - just fill out the form on the right side of the page.

"Innocent"

Fujimori's attorney Cesar Nakazaki (foreground): The president cannot be blamed because there is no written document showing he gave the order to kill.

Fujimori: Thank you, Doctor Nakazaki. According to you, I am innocent.

Source: www.carlincaturas.com

History has never been my forte. I have often found myself challenged by the complexities of history classes. Someone I know once curiously suggested that my struggle with history could relate to the fact that I was in large part removed from my own.

The son of two Polish parents, I spent a few short weeks in Poland when I was three years old. The only thing I can remember is a strong distaste for beet soup. Unlike my enterprising twin sister, I have yet to return. While I understand Polish, I can´t speak it. When relatives call from Warsaw, I usually burrow myself in the furthest corner of my parents´ house.

The vestiges of Latin America´s turbulent history remain vivid throughout the streets of Lima. When the Spanish discovered the Americas in search of gold and precious metals more than 500 years ago, they killed in the name of "civilization" to subdue and conquer the indigenous masses they considered barbarians. The ensuing plunder left hundreds of thousands dead from disease, and the Spanish set in motion a transformation of society designed to Christianize indigenous populations and extract New World wealth to enrich the Spanish Crown.

Ten years after Columbus discovered the Americas, a Spaniard by the name of Francisco Pizarro set sail from Spain to the New World among a fleet of 30 ships. Pizarro is known as the conqueror of the great Inca empire, which ruled considerable parts of western South America from the early 13th century to the early 16th century. Pizarro conquered Peru in 1533 and founded the city of Lima two years later.

When Raul Greenwich, an EPAF employee, asked me last week to join him in a special photo shoot of the remains of Francisco Pizarro at the National Cathedral in Lima, I was ready for my history lesson.

For years, archeologists and forensic specialists have debated whether sufficient evidence exists to confirm the authenticity of the found remains as those belonging to Pizarro. Greenwich, who studies archeology at the University of San Marcos in Lima, is part of a special investigative project conducting a comprehensive analysis of the bones, a process involving numerous historians, archeologists, and EPAF experts. His findings supporting the authenticity of the remains were presented at the 4th Congress of the Latin American Forensic Anthropology Association this past April in Lima.

Watch my trip to Pizarro´s chapel ...

Pick a street light. Look at the taped signs.

"Fujimori innocent! He saved Peru from chaos and destruction. Freedom for Fujimori!"

"Fujimori, the grand Peacemaker! His government captured Abimael Guzman Reynoso and Victor Polay Campos, the leaders of the Shining Path and the Revolutionary Movement of Tupac Amaru. Both unhurt without a scratch. Putting an end to the terror. Bringing peace back to the country."

Pockets of "fujimoristas," or those loyal to former Peruvian President Alberto K. Fujimori, still exist.

Just two years into Fujimori´s 10-year stint as president (1990-2000), the leader of the Shining Path - Abimael Guzman Reynoso - was captured. Guzman´s capture essentially crippled the violent insurgent movement. According to the Journal of Politics, opinion polls ranked "the defeat of terrorism" as the second most important reason for Fujimori´s re-election in 1995. When he won again in 2000, the justification ranked first.

But in the months leading up to his election in 2000, Fujimori faced a growing chorus of dissenting voices decrying corruption within the highest ranks of his government. The controversy climaxed in September 2000, when videotapes surfaced showing one of his most closest advisors - Vladimiro Montesinos - bribing politicians from the opposition to support Fujimori. Montesinos fled to Venezuela. Fujimori fled to Japan.

Almost eight years later, Fujimori stands trial. He faces charges of corruption and human rights violations, including alleged command responsibility for the actions of the Colina death squad. Colina, formed during Fujimori´s era to eliminate the Shining Path, is responsible for two massacres - Barrios Altos in 1991 and La Cantuta in 1992. Fujimori claims to have known nothing about Colina, an independent group with connections to the Peruvian military. Former members of the military and Colina say otherwise. On Wednesday, Montesinos will give his much-awaited testimony before the Fujimori tribunal. Previous witnesses have claimed Montesinos informed Fujimori about Colina´s actions.

What does the Fujimori trial mean for human rights in Peru? If Fujimori is convicted, will this lead to further investigations into the actions of the military under former presidents Fernando Belaunde Terry (1980-1985) and Alan Garcia (1985-1990, 2006-present)? Is there political will in Peru to seek justice on behalf of those innocently killed? Have Peru´s political parties, like APRA under Garcia, taken responsibility for the excesses of the military? Starting today, I will examine these issues through interviews of professionals working within the human rights field in Peru. The following interview is the first of what I hope to be periodic interviews on the topic, placing EPAF´s work in a richer context.

Meet Jaime Urrutia Ceruti. Urrutia´s life was changed forever by the civil war, an experience that informed his later work with the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission. His life in danger, Urrutia fled to France before returning to Peru. Part I examines the impact of the civil war on Urrutia´s life. Part II examines his opinions regarding the potential impact of the Fujimori trial.

Question: For my next interview, what should I ask? What would you like to know?

Part II

I lived for Sunday mornings.

Photo credit: Getty Images, The New York Observer

It wasn't for the satisfaction of sleeping in after staying out late on Saturday nights. It wasn't to revel in the last free morning of all-too-short weekends.

On any given Sunday for the last 12 years, my alarm clock was set for 10 minutes before 10. I raced to brush my teeth, grab some breakfast, and turn on the TV. Upon hearing a chorus of brass and string instruments, and the words, "Our issues this Sunday," I knew I had made it. I didn't want to miss a second. It was time for Meet The Press.

The news of Tim Russert's death this afternoon left me vulnerably nostalgic. Tim Russert was the reason I got into journalism. When I applied to the University of Texas at Austin in 1998, I framed my passion for journalism in my personal statement by alluding to my regard for what I naively termed his weekly "modern-day Spanish Inquisitions." His fairness, his preparation, his tenacity - these were the virtues I wanted to embody as a journalist, I wrote. He was my standard bearer.

What I respect most about Russert was his unwavering committment to his craft. He fought his way through smokescreens and half-truths by openly challenging the honesty of public officials purportedly committed to faithfully serving the American people. He shunned lip-service, and he demanded clarity. He even took time on certain Sundays to set Washington aside and examine in-depth some of the most pressing issues of our time - religion, race, and the family.

Those of Russert's caliber are few and far between. During my experience in Peru, I've realized how easily the truth can be hidden behind a cluster of stars or a handful of medals. After having enjoyed hours upon hours of Russert's Sunday intrigue, I can say that I've learned three important lessons that will hopefully serve me well while I am in Peru.

Work hard, be fair, and dig deep.

Within 10 minutes of leaving Putis, one car in our six-car brigade broke down, delaying us an hour and a half. Before arriving to Huanta three hours later, the wheel of one of our trailers burst, leaving another group briefly stranded along a treacherous, rocky road. The normal five-hour trip to Ayacucho soon became nine hours. One person on our team ventured that the essence of what EPAF had uncovered over the previous two weeks was doing everything it could to keep us there.

My stay in Putis was a fascinating experience of vivid contrasts. The bitter cold of clear, star-filled nights and the heat of sunny afternoons. The serenity of my surroundings yet the brutality of the area´s history. Over two weeks, EPAF was physically protected from harm by the Peruvian military - the very actor responsible for the actual 1984 Putis massacre.

Have things changed? The Putis case was a breakthrough for EPAF in Peru - and the world took notice. Fox News, CNN, Reuters, MSNBC, BBC, La Republica, take your pick. But any notion of swift justice remains doubtful. Look no further than Sunday´s edition of La Republica, one of Peru´s leading newspapers. The General Commander of the Peruvian military, Edwin Donayre, in response to questions about the Putis exhumation: "Any excesses and human rights violations should be addressed in the moment and situation during which they took place. How easy it is to talk now after 20 years!"

Things have sadly not changed. Gerardo Fernandez Mendoza, the president of an association of 250 Putis relatives, claims that 360 victims remain buried in 13 separate mass graves in the Putis area. In two weeks, EPAF returns to Putis to exhume four more graves. Though the aliases of those responsible for the Putis massacre are known, the Peruvian military has consistently refused to identify the individuals stationed at the Putis military base in 1984. Without names, a legal case cannot be filed. Some within the military claim the salient files were burned and no longer exist. Though the military now articulates its refusal to release names with precision and exactitude, the entire Putis area in 1984 was indiscriminately marked by the military as "red," asserted to be irrevocably broken by the ideological poison of the Shining Path. Everyone - men, women, and children - paid the price. That may be the starkest contrast yet.

"Ha llorado." ("You cried.")

Finally, I thought. I woke up my last day in Putis covered with every conceivable piece of clothing/blanket/sleeping bag I could find. As I lifted it all to look out on the new day, I was suddenly, unexpectedly greeted by the face of Ester, an EPAF employee that had slept next to me in our makeshift tent. Still not entirely awake, I was surprised to see her face staring back at me so closely. She looked at me and said, "Ha llorado."

I reached up to feel my eyes. I hadn´t taken out my contacts in three days, and I figured my eyes were doing everything they could to tell me that the Putis way of life was far from ideal. I was shaken by the comment. For some time I had been waiting to know, when is all of this going to hit me? For the past two days I had seen bones, skulls of children with gunshot wounds, pieces of torn clothing, family members grieving over the grave - and I felt nothing. Yes, I felt sad, but I didn´t feel it in any visceral, cathartic way. I talked about my struggle with Ellen, a Canadian student working with EPAF completing a PhD in forensic anthropology from the University of Indiana. We both knew that what we were seeing was so removed from our own experiences, it seemed surreal. But I still wanted to feel something.

And so Ellen told me something then that I only now fully understand. She mentioned how some time ago she had talked to Melissa, an EPAF employee in charge of analyzing the recovered bones of the disappeared, asking her what it was like for her to confront death on a daily basis. Melissa responded that it was difficult, and that she tried to not think about the families she had met over the years while working. It was only when she returned home when she allowed herself to think back upon what it was like to hold the bones of children.

While putting together the photo montage at the end of this final clip in my house back in Lima two nights ago, I finally faced the swirl of images and experiences I had managed to internalize over my three days in Putis. Looking at the pictures, I cried over such loss of life, and the lives that were shattered on the 13th day of December, 1984. But my experience in Putis was not just about grief and sadness. It was also about a new beginning for the handful of families that were visibly heartened by EPAF´s work to recover their loved ones. Some said they had thought everyone had forgotten about their plight. The photos show otherwise.

So what happened in Putis?

In a civil war that saw both sides of the conflict engage in horrific acts, Putis is one of the most tragic events to befall Quechua-speaking indigenous peoples during the war. To enlist the support of the poor, the Shining Path often engaged in forced displacement of people in rural areas across Ayacucho. Called "comites populares" ("popular committees"), groups of predominantly indigenous peoples were forced to leave their homes and obligated by the Shining Path to serve them - cooking, cleaning, etc. The objective was to evade the Peruvian military and collect a "mass" of people that the Shining Path would make lead their contingent when traveling to protect the Shining Path leaders that followed behind.

In the case of Putis, the Shining Path went to a handful of surrounding communities near Putis and displaced hundreds of Quechua-speaking peoples by pushing them up higher into the mountains. When the Peruvian military set up a base near Putis in September 1984, they started searching for "senderistas," or followers of the Shining Path. When the Shining Path learned of the army's activities, they abandoned the people they had displaced. The army arrived, promising to provide safe refuge to the people if they returned to Putis. Dividing the group into two groups, the military brought one group of 123 people back to Putis. When everyone arrived, the military asked some to dig what they were told would be a community pond. Once the pit was dug, the military had approximately 60-70 people enter the pit, and all were killed by gunfire for being suspected senderistas - men, women, and a staggering number of children, some as young as one year old. The rest were killed in nearby locations - some infront of a church altar, others within two classrooms in a community school.

Watch EPAF´s discovery of shell casings near the grave and the arrival of families to the grave site ...

After arriving in Ayacucho, I stood incredulously in the heart of the region that had served as the central front of the war between the Shining Path and the Peruvian state.

When you're in an overnight bus and then a car for 14 hours in total, you have ALOT of time to reflect and talk. I shared a small truck to Putis with Jose Pablo Baraybar, EPAF director; Iain Guest, director of The Advocacy Project; and Dan Collyns, a reporter with the BBC. Making stops in Huanta and Santillana along the way, the Peruvian landscape was something to behold. I was surrounded by tranquility, but I couldn't help but look out the window and try to visualize the terror that had ensued within these seemingly pristine mountainous communities.

The Peruvian Truth Commission reported that there was considerable fragmentation within Peruvian society during the conflict, as the rural poor that suffered within the far removed regions of Peru described their communities as "pueblos ajenos dentro del Peru" ("foreign countries inside Peru"). Although the six most affected rural regions of Peru accounted for only 9 percent of the country's population, 85 percent of those killed and disappeared came from these areas. Imagine - the Putis massacre occurred what is only now 14 hours from the centers of power in Lima given the recently constructed road connecting Huanta and Putis. The violent war in the mountains tragically unfolded with little resonance in distant urban centers.

Watch our trip to Putis and our first moments at the grave site ...

Part two

I spent the few hours preceding our 10:15 p.m. overnight bus to Ayacucho on May 26th busily helping the EPAF staff collect supplies for our three-day excursion to Putis. The EPAF team had begun working at the Putis site on May 17th. Ringing phones, last minute errands, making sure I hadn't lost my bus ticket - we all were checking our things twice over. We were promised much during the trip: 14 hours in transit, brutally cold nights, little sleep, no showering, very long work days, and possible security issues. By the end of only my fourth full day in Peru, the prospect of seeing a mass grave for the first time in my life the next day coupled with the sudden reported revelation of drug traffickers at the Putis site the night before made me think that more than just the high altitude of the Peruvian highlands would have me catching my breath. Fuerza! ("Strength"!)

Happy Monday! I took my first official bus ride by myself in Lima this morning from my neighborhood of Barranco to the EPAF office in a neighborhood about an hour away called Jesus Maria. The ride cost me 36 cents. Looking at a map of Lima, you wouldn´t think it would take that long, but it did. Riding buses in Latin America is another unique pleasure. The buses -- some tiny, some larger -- are usually manned by two people: the driver, and a second male that shouts from the entryway the multiple destinations of the bus and collects money. When the bus stops, you sometimes have to run to get on, responding quickly to the money handler shouting ´´Suba! Suba! Suba!´´(¨Get on! Get on! Get on!¨) I jumped on the bus hoping to find a seat and make a mental record of where the bus was going, but I had to stand and the bus was so small that I couldn´t see out the windows. For the record, I am 6 feet 4 inches - not exactly a mirror of the smaller stature of most Peruvians.

Today, I am meeting with the executive director of The Advocacy Project and the executive director of EPAF in preparation for our trip to Ayacucho this evening. Our goal is to bring to life a vivid recounting of who those killed in Putis really were - their stories, their work, their struggles, and the history that was violently taken from them. The bus ride is about 8 hours to Ayacucho, and then another 2-3 hours to Putis. More updates to come ...

Having yet to meet anyone here in Lima other than my colleagues at EPAF, I was a bit wary to wake up this Saturday morning with two full days to myself. After taking a short run along the ´´malecon´´´(´´boardwalk´´) that overlooks the Pacific Ocean, I came across a newsstand and picked up one of Lima´s many newspapers - La Republica. Here´s what´s making news today in Lima . . . (click on the headline links!)

´´Hallan Primeros 25 Cuerpos En Fosas de Putis´´ (´´First 25 Bodies Found in Mass Graves in Putis´´)

Big story citing EPAF´s work in Putis, which got me excited about my impending trip to the area on Monday. EPAF has been working in the area since May 17th. Here´s the lead: ´´After waiting for an agonizing 24 years, the relatives of those peasants assassinated by public order in the community of Putis seem to have recovered the hope that was taken from them in December 1984.´´ Some additional details: EPAF also discovered 15 cases of ammunition that confirm the Peruvian military´s responsibility for the killings. Among the 25 bodies found, they include women, men, adolescents, and children. A closer look at what actually happened in Putis next week.

´´Fujimori Trial Suspended´´

Former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori was extradited from Chile in September 2007 to stand trial for human rights violations and corruption charges while he was president from 1990-2000. The trial will be suspended because doctors have found a possible cancer in Fujimori´s mouth, and he will undergo surgery. Fujimori is standing trial for his alleged involvement in the creation of the La Colina death squad, which is responsible for the death of 27 individuals accused of being members of the Shining Path.

´´The Best of Carlin´´ (reprint)

The Family: ´´The Politicians arrived! Did you bring water, electricity, education, and the healthcare that we need?´´

The Politicians: ´´No. We came to let you know that you are better off now than you were before.´´

Source: www.carlincaturas.com

My first day in Lima was everything I expected and more. I spent the first half of the day frustrated and lost. Learning the ins and outs of my new neighborhood, where to exchange money, where to buy food - it all felt like I was back in Guayaquil. Upon returning to my house with a handful of groceries, I even managed to fail numerous times at unlocking the front door to my house. I had resolved myself to watch all the perishable items I had bought actually perish, but thanks to Jose, a perceptive security guard nearby, my nightmare ended!

But the evening reminded me of why I love the pace of Latin America and all of its idiosyncrasies. On Monday I am traveling to an area of Peru called Putis, which is located in the province of Ayacucho southeast of Lima. EPAF was appointed last week by a special prosecutor in Ayacucho to investigate several mass graves there. When I arrived to Lima, most of EPAF was at the site, preparing the area for exhumation from a grave thought to contain 80 bodies.

When you exhume bodies, and bones, you have to put them somewhere. Around 5 pm, I traveled with two EPAF representatives - Silvia and Ruth - on a journey across town to find 50 cardboard boxes. The plan was to send the boxes to Ayacucho for use to collect the bones of the disappeared. Along the way I traveled across Lima, taking in the sights and sounds of one of Latin America´s largest cities. Bright red graffiti covered some walls, declaring ´´FUJIMORI INOCENTE´´ or ´´FUJIMORI INNOCENT,´´ referencing the former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori who is currently on trial for human rights violations during the civil war. Other signs of graffiti declared him ´´CRIMINOSO´´ or ´´criminal.´´ We finally arrived to a small street where two men showed us models of boxes. Then the negotiating began. $3.00 for a box, said one of the two men. $2.00, we responded. We agreed to $2.20, and the two men ran to bring us the boxes from a location nearby. Vendors in the commercial district of Lima - Breña - often try to attract attention by showing models in the street and by offering lower prices for those who approach them. Those customers who actually go directly to the store are often charged more. Without doubt, Latin American commerce at its finest.

After buying the boxes, we shot across town to send them. Along the way, the inescapable dim orange glow of the city street lights revealed the inner workings of the city´s busiest streets. Driving in Lima is tantamount to a vehicular survival of the fittest. Imagine 20 to 30 cars within visual sight trying to claim whatever space they can find, and the horn is a must-use. Along the way, we passed through the edges of Lima´s historical center, passing the Museum of Art and other historical buildings. On the radio sounded the voice of Chabuca Granda, whose captivating voice known for romantic Peruvian ballads welcomingly accompanied a number of stops in a sea of traffic.

We finally arrived at the depot, and the boxes were shipped. As we returned to my house - from the backseat of the car - as I listened to the conversations of my work colleagues, the sound of the radio, the frenetic sounds of the chaotic traffic and the lively street vendors, and the hum of the flow of people, I let the moment sink in, and the afternoon of frustration was completely forgotten.

I am writing this first blog from the Miami airport, 2 hours until stepping on a plane to Lima, Peru. I just today finishing training with The Advocacy Project (AP), my US-based sponsor organization, to serve as an AP Peace Fellow in Peru for the next three months. While I've traveled to a few spots in Latin America since graduating from the University of Texas at Austin in 2002, this will be my second extended experience in the region. In 2004-2005, I spent 10 months in Ecuador raising funds for a health center project. By the time I left, I had worked hand-in-hand with community leaders, witnessed the overthrow of the Ecuadorian government, and spent five days in a Guayaquil hospital recovering from typhoid. The experience, to say the least, was intense.

I always wanted the opportunity to come back to Latin America. When AP posted the job description for my current position with the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF), I was hooked. EPAF is dedicated to the search, recovery, and identification of missing individuals in Peru -- many of whom are called "desaparecidos," or "the disappeared". From 1982-2000, Peru was ravaged by an internal civil war that left almost 70,000 Peruvians dead, 75 percent of whom were Quechua-speaking Indians. The major players in the conflict were the Communist insurgent group "Sendero Luminoso" ("Shining Path") and the Peruvian state/military. In the name of creating a social revolution that would free the rural peasantry from their historic marginalization at the hands of an urban elite, the Shining Path embarked on a violent campaign to destroy and overthrow the Peruvian government. The Peruvian state, in return, vowed to eliminate the Shining Path.

The result was indiscriminate violence of horrific proportions perpetrated by both sides. An official Truth Commission in 2003 reported that 8,500 Peruvians were "disappeared" by the Peruvian military, a tactic used to round up anyone suspected of ties to the Shining Path, regardless of whether these ties were true. Many were tortured, killed, and discarded. Since the report's release, EPAF has documented approximately 15,000 disappearances, and the figure keeps growing. This blog will chronicle my work with EPAF to give voice to the thousands of Peruvians who one day were taken from their homes and never came back, as well as share the stories of their families who still grieve their loss.

Before I get on board, I want to share a poem written by Ranulfo Fuentes, a Peruvian songwriter and high school teacher who lives in the Peruvian province of Ayacucho, where many of the disappearances took place. Originally written in the indigenous language of Quechua, the poem embodies the feelings and purpose behind EPAF's work. Ask yourself: How would you feel if a member of your family, just one day, disappeared?

Huamanguino (Fuentes) *** Taken from "The Peru Reader: History, Culture, Politics" ***

I

Someone from Huamanga has disappeared!
At what time?
About midnight
from his house,
at the hour of deepest sleep
they have taken and kidnapped him.

II

When he screamed after being hit
his mother protested, crying
Hands bound tightly
they took him
covering his eyes
they dragged him away.

III

Months and years have passed
Where could he be?
Perhaps under the stony ground
becoming earth
or among the thorns
buddling like wild flowers.

IV

Soon he will return, he will come back
like rain for the crops
to make the seeds sprout
like the sun at dawn
that makes flowers bloom.