An inspirational character

When he was ten years old, Edgar was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. He gave three answers: a lawyer, a priest and a piano player. “Why a lawyer?” someone asked. “Because it’s the only way in which I can help others, by helping people to know their rights.”

Edgar Mendoza Betancourt grew up in the Aguablanca district, the poorest area of the city of Cali, without electricity or running water. He started working at 12 years old, holding odd jobs selling newspapers, working in construction and as a street vendor.

Growing up at a time when Colombia’s urban guerillas, including the M19, were taking over urban areas, he experienced a great deal of violence. In his own home, his father often attacked and harassed him and his mother. Particularly impacting his childhood were four so-called “crimenes pasionales” (passionate crimes) in his neighborhood where women were killed by their husbands for reasons of jealousy and infidelity. “These are things that impact the life of any human being,” Edgar now confides. “I knew that one day I would change this, turn this experience into something good.”

After completing his military service, he began to work for Empresas Municipales de Cali, or Emcali for short, a municipal-owned company which provides water, telecommunications, and electricity services. The hardships of living in poverty motivated him to find other opportunities and he decided to go to a university. He started studying on his own, reading as much as he could, and through the Instituto Colombiano para el Fomento de la Educacion Superior (ICFES, the Colombian Institute to Promote Higher Education) he had the opportunity to get a Colombian high school diploma (bachillerato) in one single exam. With this certification as “bachiller”, he was able to enter a university. Emcali offered grants for their employees to study, so he applied and received a scholarship.

Studying at the university was very difficult. “Lacking any secondary education, I made lots of spelling mistakes, I was ignorant of many things,” he admits. “Every day I had to make more efforts.” Luckily, many professors and fellow students understood his situation and helped him out. After studying for eight years in the university, he graduated on April 12^th, 2002, at 40 years old, to become a lawyer with a specialization in family law and “contribute to society”. “I love family law because of its social aspect. For me the most fundamental part of social well being starts in the family. I do it because I’m convinced that one has to give back to society.”

Today Edgar fights against domestic violence with Asopropaz, the Asociacion Colombiana de Profesionales por la Paz (Colombian association of professionals for peace). “Why does family violence interest me? First, because in my childhood I was a victim of family violence and then later, by my own behavior I submitted my family to domestic violence. After one has been victim and victimizer, one has the moral obligation to help others get out of the cycle of violence, so that others can find what I found, and others can avoid the mistakes I made. So that other children don’t suffer the same things I suffered and other women don’t suffer what my mother suffered.”

Edgar is now 47 years old and has been practicing family law and helping people for seven years. He considers himself a priest in the sense that he’s an example for his children and tries to maintain strong values in his home. His only frustration is that he hasn’t learned how to play the piano yet.

Edgar Mendoza

Even the mere idea of a gun can have devastating consequences. Last week, Ana Maria* told her story to Martha Lucia, a lawyer at Asopropaz (an organization that assists victims of domestic violence), while I listened in. Her experience illustrates the ties between domestic violence, economic vulnerability, easy access to guns and cultural beliefs which define women as property.

“I’ve been living with him for 8 years,” she began. “I never went to the police because he always promised he wouldn’t do it again.” The two children they had together are 14 months and 6 years old, but her 14-year-old daughter from another relationship had to leave because he abused her sexually and beat her.

As she told her story, her baby girl was running around the office, smiling. Ana Maria’s head kept turning to check on her. “Last week, my baby got sick and I spent the night at the hospital with her. When we got back, he was angry because there was no meal ready for him. He beat me, only stopping because the kids were crying, but usually nothing stops him. Later, I told him, ‘either I’m going to leave, or you have to leave.’ When I said that, he raped me, beat me and told me I had to stay with him because I am his woman and I belong to him.”

When I asked about guns, Ana Maria shook her head and said that he had never owned or used a gun against her. I asked if he has access to a gun. “For sure,” she responded without hesitation.  ”He’s threatened me many times, telling me he can find one very easily, because his friends all have guns – he’s a taxi driver. He says he can get one and kill me, that it wouldn’t cost him a cent.” I asked her if her children are also aware of his ability to find a gun easily. “Of course,” she said. “They live in fear of him too.”

When she finally reported the crime, she was asked to bring proof. She didn’t have any, so the prosecutor made an appointment with both of them. To her distress, her husband denied everything and even accused her of being violent. Later, he took it out on her.

There are no shelters here. Victims of domestic violence are advised to live with family until they can find a place to stay. “I don’t have anywhere to go. My mother doesn’t have any room. We would all be sleeping on the floor, and he might find us there. He knows the place. He could come and hurt us, or kill us.”

Ana Maria almost didn’t come to her appointment with Martha Lucia because she didn’t have enough money for transportation. She does not work, and her husband keeps her locked up most of the time. She’s held jobs in the past, but had to quit or was fired, because she would arrive late feeling weak and covered with bruises or wounds. Sometimes she wasn’t able to come at all. She’s never had a chance to study, but when she tried to take courses at the university, he didn’t let her, because “he’s very jealous”.

Ana Maria’s husband feels that he can rightfully treat her as private property. Because she’s economically dependent on him and believes that he can easily access a gun, she can’t think of where to go and is too afraid to seek help — it’s a vicious circle of subjugation, violence, poverty and fear. It was Ana Maria’s sister who finally called Martha Lucia to make an appointment for her. Thousands of others like her never get even that way out.

*Name changed for her safety