People, when given the option, are good to each other. Over the past few days, we have been blessed, amazed and inspired by people’s dramatic generosity. As Fedelma said, we have taken a big risk by taking this trip, and have over and over again found ourselves being “caught” by, for the most part, virtual strangers. We have averted disaster, discomfort and isolation by the consistent generosity of those we have met along the way.
On Tuesday, anticipating a long day, our gracious host, Swarthmore parent Jim Brunkard took us out to a lusciously greasy breakfast (he had scrapple, a Pennsylvania specialty which consists of the meat not fit for sausage, in honor of the occasion), and then drove us up the big hill that would have begun our day. For lunch, we were greeted by the amazing Lepoco peace group, who told us that we didn’t need to tell them about accompaniment and the situation in Colombia – because they already knew about it, were supportive of it, and some had even visited! Instead, we were left to enjoy the food, soak up their inspirational energy, receive their donations, and talk to the press they had invited.
We began Wednesday optimistic, after hearing that though it would rain all day, it would be a warm, almost spring-like rain. Wanting to take a more direct route into Philadelphia because of some knee pain Fedelma was experiencing, we opted for the very direct and equally un-scenic route. After about 20 miles of strip malls, shrinking shoulders and 3-inch puddles which disguised curbs (and caused our first official “crash” of the trip, though no one was hurt!) we stopped at a bike shop, looking for a respite from the rain and like-minded folks to commiserate with. We got much more. The bike mechanic spent close to an hour with us, carefully detailing an alternate, fairly direct route into Philadelphia that would save us from the traffic and bad roads. We didn’t know that on the post-it note inside a zip-lock bag was written the map to paradise! Our makeshift map led us through deserted, quaint roads, down a gravel path along a raging creek lined by trees in the midst of shedding their leaves, and finally left us off at a cozy diner at the start of the Schuylkill river trail, a lovely paved bike path which brought us to the regal Philadelphia Art Museum.
On the way to Fedelma’s lodging for the night, Janice got her first of two flats (didn’t quite get that glass out the first time!) just two blocks before our destination. After walking the bikes briefly, we were “caught” once again by the Jim and Janet, and ordered to put on warm, dry clothes while Jim changed Janice’s tire and Janet made us tea and cookies, and then drove Janice and her bike to her friend Ben’s house.
After a quick ride to Swarthmore, and a wonderful event there, we have landed at the Quaker Adult Study Center at Pendle Hill, where we were invited to stay another night, do another screening of the documentary about the peace community, and rest our bodies and minds. Tomorrow we are off to do 72 miles to Chestertown – wish us luck!
MORE ABOUT OUR SWARTHMORE VISIT:
Biking into Swarthmore, I was reminded of the cramped suburban sprawl which suddenly opens up to Swarthmore’s stately, picturesque campus. We rolled into the borough of Swarthmore, and I was unexpectedly, but not surprisingly, totally disoriented by the litany of college-named streets (Which way do I turn on Yale Ave, or was it Dartmouth, to get to Swarthmore?). When we finally got to campus, I was greeted by some new buildings, a transformed Parrish, with dark carpeting (funny what we notice), a career office which had flown to the other side of the building, and a Cornell which had expanded from what I vaguely remember, as a social sciences person, as a quaint, dark corner of campus to an airplane-terminal like modern center of science-learning and fun.
After wandering around the campus with Fedelma, and searching largely unsuccessfully for staff I remembered (sorry I missed you Yvette!) I went to Tarble, where Chris, a long-time Swat employee, and I remembered each other and caught up, and also found my former brilliant student Garth Griffin doing what with his time at Swat? Playing pool in Tarble’s new and improved recreation area, of course. After a quick and unexpectedly steep and rough ride to Pendle Hill to drop our stuff off, we returned to campus to meet Alisa Giardinelli, our Swarthmore host and fellow Colombian human rights advocate. Ken Sharpe had put me in touch with Alisa, and she had been amazingly helpful in setting up the event at Swarthmore, and graciouslessly treated Fedelma and I to hot chocolate and Swarthmore news after a busy day.
Prepared as always for a turnout of 5 people, we were happily surprised by the quickly-filling room. Turns out, both Ken Sharpe and visiting Prof. Lakey(sp?) had pushed our talk in their classes, and Prof. Lakey’s class had read “Unarmed Bodyguards,” the best book about human rights accompaniment work out there. After a gracious introduction by Alisa, David Bronkema, former head of AFSC’s work in the Andean Region, agreed to be put on the spot and gave a history of Colombia...in 5 minutes. We showed 30 minutes of the documentary, talked about our reasons for doing human rights work in Colombia, and fielded questions from the always-on-point Swatties. I talked about political space, a favorite Ken Sharpe concept, and saw smiles of recognition spread across the faces of the students...and felt home in a way I hadn’t with other audiences.
In many ways, this felt like coming full circle for me. Almost ten years before, I had petitioned to get in Ken Sharpe’s Latin American Politic seminar. I was a sophomore, and the seminar was full, and Ken explained that there was simply no room and no way for me to take the class. After repeated petitions, I agreed to go to Haverford to take a Latin American politics class instead, since I was determined to take the class before going abroad in fall of my junior year. After bringing the papers for Ken to sign, he finally relented and let me in the class.
The class affected me in more ways than I, or he, I would guess, could imagine. I dove into the reading list, trying to make up for what I lacked in analytical experience with expertise on every reading on the legendarily dense syllabus. I typed up pages of notes in preparation for every class, and sat riveted and appalled as I read and discussed the US’ misguided and almost genocidal foreign policy in Latin America. After some initial missteps (I double-spaced my first seminar paper! horrors!), I felt I came into my own in the class with my paper on Nicaraguan land reform under the Sandinistas. In Ken’s 1-page written responses to the paper (he really does this!) he saw some strengths in the paper, but also pointed out some arguments which needed further development and analysis. Naturally, I decided that to answer his questions, I would go to Nicaragua and work with the farmers’ union that had conducted the land reform the following semester. And so I did.
While there were of course other things that led me to Nicaragua, I was fundamentally motivated by the seriousness of purpose that I took from that seminar. It felt to me like in those late, late nights in Trotter we were grappling with nothing less than people’s right to struggle for justice and equality, and looking at how our own country’s moral failings had led to the obliteration of these rights, movements and dreams for change. I made a lifelong commitment during that class to never again stand by while the US funded the killing of people in Latin America struggling for social change. Fundamentally, this is what has led me to become a human rights observer in Colombia.
The view from my bed of the sun rising over the mountains that border Bogota.
Graffiti in downtown Bogota which reads "Yankees out! No to the Free trade agreement! No to oppresiion!"
