James Cardona

Was it this incredulity that led him to learn how to walk with a prosthesis faster than any of his peers in rehabilitation?  That seems paradoxical.  James himself can’t really describe what made him get out of bed and start practicing walking day and night.  ”It was a very long process learning how to walk with a prosthesis.  I don’t know what made me get up and do it.  Yo tenía ganas,” he said.  ”I just felt like it.”

Leaving the military rehabilitation facility in Bogotá, he was very self-conscious of his new limb.  He would hear people in the street say, “pobrecito” or “poor guy” and he couldn’t stand it.  He’s learned to overcome that as well.  On Sundays in Bogotá, the busiest street-Avenida Séptima- is shut down for pedestrians and cyclists only.  These days, James dons a pair of shorts and he and his wife ride up and down Séptima assuredly.  ”I just don’t care anymore” James explains, referring to other’s thoughts on his prosthesis.

At 21 years old, James has shown great resilience in the two years since that life-changing encounter with the landmine.  His motivation to study and move on, along with the support he receives from Fundación ArcÁngeles’ job development department, will help James go far.  Hopefully James’ resilience rubbed off in the rehabilitation center or on Avenida Séptima because it’s inspiring how James has faced facts and chosen life so fast and so young.

Arcesio Lamprea

It could have been many things that made Arcesio so nervous to be interviewed. He is connected with Fundación ArcÁngeles through a job development program to help people with disabilities find jobs or make jobs more accessible. Maybe he thought I was screening him for a job (although I made very clear my connection to Fundación ArcÁngeles and the purpose of the interview). Maybe being at Fundación ArcÁngeles made him feel awkward. He could have just been camera shy or, most likely, he was probably uncomfortable talking about his life experiences with a complete stranger (who that day was delirious with a second round of a head cold that made her Spanish quite interesting). I didn’t immediately assume it would be the latter that made him seem so uncomfortable just because it happened so long ago. “It” being the day Arcesio’s life changed.

Eighteen years ago, Arcesio was a nineteen year old fulfilling the two year obligatory military service required of young Colombian men. “It was a normal day,” he told me. “We had just eaten breakfast, our stomachs were full. We were out on patrol in the mountains of northeastern Colombia for about 2 hours. It was 11 am.” At 11 am that day Arcesio stepped on a landmine that he reckons was probably there for around two years. Arcesio says he looked down after the blast to see his right leg completely blown off. All he could think about was killing himself. “I’m not worth anything now. What good am I?” he had thought. Arcesio’s left leg had to later be amputated when gangrene infested. He says the amputation saved his life.

Arcesio has since come a long way from his nineteen year old mentality after the landmine explosion. He no longer uses a wheel chair. He has a wife and an 11 year old daughter. He’s now looking for a stable job. He does not want to kill himself. The biggest challenge he faces now is not his own mentality, but the mentality of Colombian society. Arcesio describes the mentality of Colombian society regarding people with disabilities as condescending and discriminating. He says it is very difficult to find a job if you have a disability and people do not usually treat him like other co-workers. “I just want to be treated like a ‘normal’ person.”

Arcesio looks forward to finding a stable job, “hopefully watching security cameras or the like.” Arcesio has come to the right place towards reaching his two goals. Fundación ArcÁngeles is working around the clock to change Colombians’ prejudices against people with disabilities and aiming to create more jobs for this population. As for Arcesio’s tension during the interview, I can’t say. I was an hour blip in Arcesio’s life which is not long enough to make assumptions (although, is there really any time frame in which assumptions are acceptable?). I wish Arcesio the best! He is in good hands!

Jairo is Survivor Corps’ Strategic Director for Colombia. He’s the only staff member for Survivor Corps in Colombia, but his knowledge, experience, and contacts have made this post second nature for him and Survivor Corps’ program flourish.

WATCH: 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAHOtfi_Tug

A week full of interviews and packing in the last of the Bogotá sites has left quite a bit of work for me upon return.   I’ve learned so much.  I really want to thank Jairo Arboleda for his patience in explaining and sometimes reexplaining what the context of Colombia means for INGO intervention and partnership, the end of the war, and so much more.  Jairo was a personal professor for me which goes along with a lot of mentorship.  I look up to Jairo for many reasons, but mostly because of his frankness and sober approach to polemic issues.

I have to get up for my flight in 3 1/2 hrs, so I’d better hit the sack, but this blog has not yet been concluded!  What a wonderful and rico summer it has been.

Cuando vuelvo? No sé, pero espero que sea prontico.

Saludos,
Lindsey

Marina and Sebastian David

The nuns sent her to the little town of San Francisco where a priest was to take on missionary work around Colombia. Marina joined him and upon return settled into life in San Francisco. At just 25 years old, she has worked her way up to Vice President of Renacer con Fe, the organization with which Survivor Corps collaborates on reconciliation projects. She is in charge of programs regarding the forcefully displaced in her area, of which group Marina herself is a member.

Marina has a lot on her hands; raising a 17 month old son by herself, maintaining a relationship with her family who is too afraid of violence recurring around San Francisco to visit her, dealing with the trauma of forced displacement, of almost having been forcefully recruited into the FARC, and worrying about the father of her son who is gone serving the obligatory military requirement.

Marina is a candid person, and that’s what I like about her.  She’s not afraid to breastfeed in public, wake me up from naps, ask me personal questions, or be on her own (or at least she hides it well).

Meeting Marina and seeing her rise above the stresses and dangers in her life is amazing to me.  One tries to imagine oneself in these situations and think, “What would I do in her shoes.”  I hope that I would be as determined as Marina to make life work and give back.

After one of the forums, carried out with support from Survivor Corps and partner ConCiudadania, a person who self-identified as “victim” came up to a demobilized paramilitary, Diego, and demanded truths.  Diego replied that he knew some things, but not everything.  However, his former commanderLuis Eduardo Zuluaga Arcila, alias MacGiver, had answers and was interested in speaking to the victims.  Many of the victims, though, were without resources to even think about leaving San Francisco.  Diego spoke with MacGiver, who agreed to fund the group’s trip to Bogotá, a nine hour bus ride through the mountains.

40 people made the journey east to Bogotá.  Accompanying the victims and paramilitaries, a representatives from local organizations as well as ConCiudadania came along.  Human rights defenders joined the group as well.

Everyone had different questions for MacGiver.  Although the majority of the disappeared or killed in San Francisco were victims of the guerrilla, some fell victim to paramilitaries, or autodefensas, too.  As was the case with one woman.  Breaking her way to the front of the group, she demanded to know the whereabouts of her missing son.  MacGiver (right), a soft spoken of small frame, stated her son’s fate.  “Your son is dead, señora,” he replied. After years without answers, she was no longer compelled to search.  Although grief took the place of desparate anticipation, she had an answer.

Human rights defenders who accompanied the group had initially been skeptical of the reconciliation process.  This group of human rights defenders had believed that justice and protection of rights was the only way towards rebuilding the community.  “I thought he [MacGiver] would be a monster,” one had stated.  Noting the human side of this commander and the reaction of the mother whose son was concluded dead, this group left the prison with a greater sense of the impact of reconciliation; best articulated by the distinguished John Paul Lederach in a play inspired by conflict transformation workshops carried out in Nicaragua.  Each participant would personify Truth, Mercy, Peace, and Justice. ”In [Justice's] haste to change and make things right, he forgets that his roots lie in real people and relationships.” (read the whole play here)

The point of reconciliation forums such as San Francisco’s, creating soccer teams with demobilized paramilitaries or guerrillas mixed in with victims, holding workshops where each group can intermingle is not solely an end in itself.  While these projects are amazingly important for the community, the greater impact is the rippling effect which occurred as a result the meeting with MacGiver.  It is attaining understanding of why something, often tragic, occurred and with that information being able to move on with one’s life.  Even though the commander of the paramilitary group was behind bars, a person responsible for extortion, disappearances, a few dozen murders he personally committed, illegal recruitment, and even “social cleansings,” this community lacked an essential element to move on.

Lederach best sums up the greater impact of the meeting “[Justice is] the pursuit of restoration, of rectifying wrongs, of creating right relationships based on equity and fairness. Pursuing justice involves advocacy for those harmed, for open acknowledgment of the wrongs committed, and for making things right. Mercy, on the other hand, involves compassion, forgiveness, and a new start. Mercy is oriented toward supporting persons who have committed injustices, encouraging them to change and move on.”  While reconciliation forums provided the woman with a disappeared son a space to express her pain, making contact with a real person behind the act provided her with the invaluable: a new start.

*name has been changed

Don Diego joined the paramilitaries in 2000. He says he joined to end the injustices carried out by guerrillas which were very active in that time in his village. He wanted to protect people. Because of his close relationship with MacGiver, Diego was appointed as head of social programs for the autodefensas around San Francisco, where both men are from. Through this post, Diego would liaise between the village and MacGiver, coordinating the construction of new roads, infrastructure such as street lamps, and other projects.

Diego’s take on his country’s conflict struck me as suprisingly lucid. The high exposure to propaganda through cable news and the armed groups themselves let alone his obvious bias to the group of which he was a member seemed to not effect his explanation. He was demobilized in 2005 through the Justice and Peace Law, which aims to “negotiat[e] the transition to peace with the right-wing paramilitary groups, by offering them incentives to give up fighting and at the same time redress the victims, ensuring justice and finding the truth.” He is confident that almost everyone from San Francisco involved in the autodefensas has been successfully demobilized, but fears the lack of job opportunities in his village may end up back with the autodefensas in another part of Colombia.

What Diego wanted to make very clear with me is when explaining how the autodefensas worked in San Francisco, is that he is NOT generalizing about paramilitary groups. He can only speak for the San Francisco autodefensas. They took up arms in 2000 because the guerrillas were invading and the Colombian military was not present and did not seem to be planning a presence. He does not know what the other autodefensas do or why they join.

I asked Don Diego, as his friends call him, why he decided to get involved in the reconciliation process. He told me he didn’t have a lot going on (a common situation for San Francisco citizens) and he, without sharing details, he explained that when he first joined the paramilitaries he was involved in combat. Enough said. He seemed to have some skeletons in the closet he did not feel comfortable sharing with me in the presence of his wife. He instead emphasized the experience he had as head of social programs. He was also proud to have been the liaison between the encarcerated MacGiver and victims in San Francisco. Victims ended up being about to visit MacGiver in the high-security Bogotá prison where he is serving a 20 year sentence, all on MacGiver’s bill.

Don Diego is proud of MacGiver’s social bent while commander of the paramilitaries around San Francisco. He, like MacGiver, want to see their village succeed. Diego is disappointed with the lack of government subsidies or even interest in his village. He envisions San Franciscan’s harvesting sugar cane or tending to any kind of farming, but does not think the government will provide such opportunities. Until then, Diego is doing his part by participating in reconciliation forums and conflict resolution workshops. Don Diego is surviving life after autodefensas.

This Reconciliation Project Fair commemorates three reconciliation projects in action across the department of Antioquia in Colombia. After more than 40 years of civil war between right wing paramilitaries, left wing guerrillas, and the military, these survivors have overcome unimaginable pain and loss. Watch this video to learn more about the event and each project! Survivor Corps and ConCiudadania contributed to the organizations’ projects.