Conflict, Coincidence & Inspiration

Greetings all, and sorry for the delay in posting! As you will see, things have been hectic, and I am grateful to be back in Bogotá, where, with the visit of our Co-director Susana Pimiento, I am feeling a new sense of purpose and direction for the work here, and am excited to kick off new work with the amazing groups we accompany. I am sad that co-worker Gilbero departs today, but excited to welcome new volunteers Camila and Mayra!

Living in the midst of conflict
Well, here it is: the scary blog from Colombia detailing how I came close to conflict, survived, and accompanied those who were in danger. I ask disculpes, or pardons, if this seems sensationalist...but the truth is, this is all totally new to me.

So, it was a scary final week or so in the community for me. Things had been relatively quiet for the last five months or so, meaning very few armed actors (including military, guerrillas, and paramilitaries) had been seen in the “zone,” or the area near La Unión, one of the villages of the Peace Community of San José de Apartadó. That started to change during the military retén, or checkpoint, that I talked about a couple blogs ago.

A couple days after this retén, AJ & I were enjoying a lovely day in town (Apartadó), eating ice cream, interneting, and having a long night talking with PBI volunteers who also accompany the leaders of the displacement community of San Josesito, which displaced in 2005 after the government set up a police post in their “home town,” about twenty minutes up the road from where they are now. In our lazy, hazy enjoyment of some dairy and air conditioning, our phone rang and the Co-director of our program, John Lindsay-Poland was calling to tell us there had been combat in the zone. We have strict security protocols which dictate that we don’t communicate sensitive information over the phone, since we are pretty sure they're tapped, especially when it could give away to one armed actor or another where the other is (thus, perhaps, provoking more conflict), so John couldn’t tell us where the combat was, who it involved, or how serious it was. AJ & I, of course, worried that it could be in La Unión. That our friends had been hurt. That if we had been there, instead of interneting and indulging, things maybe would have been different...

This guilty line of thinking was, in retrospect, clearly irrational: we had to go to town to get supplies, we had to pay the electric bills (and, while we were down there, the electric bills of most people in the community, who would have lost a day of work on the 6-hour journey to pay a $2 bill), and we needed to make the two-hour journey down the mountain to meet with PBI. But there really was guilt – we are supposed to be accompanying the community, and here we were, getting a call from John in San Francisco (who had gotten a call from Colombia) telling us to get back home to be with those that we are there to accompany in the time of conflict.

Since John’s only instructions were to get back home, we did the Colombian version of
high-tailing it back to the community...which meant getting to the chiva, or jeep stand, right after an earlier one had already left, and waiting for over two hours for the next one to fill up with the remaining 8 people. After a top-of-the-chiva ride (we got to sit on really comfy rice bags) we arrived in San Josesito at dusk, and learned that the combat had been about an hour’s walk outside the peace community, in what is called a humanitarian zone. In the humanitarian zones, small groups of residents are trying to band together and designate a safe, home base that civilians can go to in case of conflict, that has a phone, and whose neutrality armed actors would respect. In this case, the designated safe space was a school. As it happens, the combat was right near the school – but thankfully there were no students there at the time, and no civilian was injured. Obviously, the idea that this should be a safe space still has a ways to go.

That evening, we decided against walking up the mountain to La Unión when there had been combat nearby, for obvious reasons. Walking up the next morning, people seemed tranquilo. They have heard combat before, it has been closer, and it was time to work. Several days later, AJ & I tried to get some work done on the Women’s Report, and were chugging along until AJ’s well-trained ears heard a helicopter. At first, I couldn’t hear or see anything. But it came closer...and closer, until it seemed like it was hovering right over our house. It was close enough that I ducked inside, in case it started dropping...things (not sure that being inside would help...but that’s what seemed right at the time). Though we had binoculars, it was close enough that we didn’t need them. The helicopter then circled the community, and then departed south, in the direction on San Josesito and towards where the combat had been the day before.

(This next paragraph is stolen from AJ’s blog, www.limpingtowardsjustice.blogspot.com because it’s really good)
“This was most likely a US Black Hawk Helicopter. Of course, my only reference points for this are the previews for the movie “Black Hawk Down” and the fact that I know that the US sells these helicopters as part of the Plan Colombia aid package. I’ve heard that in past years more time has been spent in Congress arguing over the number of Black Hawks to be purchased as opposed to real debate on the validity of fueling this war. US involvement on the ground here is actually heavily infused with private contractors to do things like pilot said Black Hawk helicopters. According to the Center for International Policy’s Colombia Program: hundreds of civilians working for private US corporations work with Colombia’s security forces as spray-plane and helicopter pilots, search-and-rescue personnel, mechanics, logistics personnel, radar-site operators and instructors among other duties. Due to concerns over their proximity to the armed conflict, a provision in the 2000 “Plan Colombia” package restricted the number of US Contract Personnel on the ground to 300 while at the same time setting a cap of 500 military personnel. So, there is a good chance that the helicopter hovering over my head was piloted by a fellow US citizen – I might have shouted up to ask his opinion on bubble teams for the NCAA basketball tourney. But I didn’t.”

This same day, it was reported that 40 army soldiers were seen on the path right outside the community. That night, our neighbor was very sick, and eight men from the community put her in a hammock, which they attached to two sticks for a makeshift stretcher , and they decided to carry her the two hours down the mountain to San Josesito, where an ambulance met them, and then hike back up. We called the Army to let them know that there were civilians coming up and down the path where their soldiers were camping, and they said that no harm should come to them as long as they had flashlights. Sigh, not so comforting, but the men made it there and back fine, and the army departed from their path-side position the next morning. All of this army activity made us more cognizant of not leaving the community alone, and so I ended up staying in the community 4 days longer than scheduled so that we could do the health promoter accompaniment (see below) and not leave the community without a volunteer.
I have mixed reactions to these experiences: a gratefulness that we were there, not being as scared as I imagined I might be, having a feeling that despite the proximity of “danger” we were never really threatened, and an increased respect for and understanding of the daily threats that community members live with.

High Profile Coincidences
All of a sudden, San José de Apartadó, the community we work most closely with in Colombia, is front-page news. First, we received the wonderful news of the AFSC-sponsored Nobel Peace Prize nomination. (For more info: http://afsc.org/news/2007/2007-Nobel-Peace-Nomination.htm)

A week later, Brígida Gonzalez, a respected community leader who had stopped by the house in La Unión last week when I was in community, was accused in the most widely read and respected news magazine in the country of being a guerrilla collaborator. This article inevitably puts Brígida and the community at risk, and was untrue in its most important details. Brígida was not interviewed for the story, and the only source cited was two computers confiscated from the guerrilla by the army.You may remember Brígida as the lovely older woman from Hasta la Ultima Piedra who worked with community children to represent the conflict and process their grief through art. This picture of Brígida with her daughter was published in the magazine, where it was said this daughter was killed since she was a member of the FARC. In fact, this daughter was killed in her sleep, and was not a member of the FARC.

Later that same day, it was announced that the fiscalía, the rough equivalent of the Attorney General’s office, had accused 69 soldiers and military officers of the 2005 machete massacre of 8 peace community members, including community leader Luis Eduardo Guerra and 3 children. As the next article in this same magazine said, this is one of the most serious human rights accusations against the military in its history.

So why the first article? Why the coincidental timing and the deligitimizing perspective of the first article? Hmmmm....so this is what freedom of the press can look like in Colombia...

Health Promoters
In the midst of all this activity, I don’t want to lose sight of an amazingly inspiring experience I had last week, and which I will write more about in the future. Curt “Alan” Wands is an incredibly dedicated, long-time US activist, who would object to me beginning this section talking about him. He is a deeply humble man who has been on the ground doing solidarity work in Latin America for at least the past 25 years. He was in Nicaragua in the 1980s, and his best friend was folk hero Ben Linder, an American engineer who was killed by US-funded contra forces while trying to help the Sandinistas build sustainable water systems.

After working in different movements and in different capacities, he realized one desperate need in conflict areas especially was basic health care. In many conflict zones, any doctors have left, are too costly, or are targets. Curt saw this, and decided to get himself trained in basic medical knowledge, and then teach community members the specialized set of skills needed in Latin American conflict zones: basic wound care, malaria and pneumonia diagnosis, the treatment of parasites and worms. He also scared up funding from wherever he could, enabling him to equip the newly trained health promoters with desperately needed basic medicines. The people he trains have an average of a sixth-grade education. He only accepts people who are living in under-served isolated communities who plan to stay there, and he won’t treat or work with anyone who is armed. In this way, he has enabled thousands of people access to life-saving medical treatment in otherwise inaccessible communities, and given community members access to education and training otherwise completely out of reach. This model, of training community members to address their communities’ needs, stands in stark contrast to the work of well-funded and visible organizations like Doctors with Borders, whose work I had always idealized. Curt pointed out that coming into a community for a couple months and doing mass vaccinations, surgeries and treatments is not only unsustainable (Doctors without Border doesn’t guarantee that they will return to a region), but it in fact leaves a hole: after seeing the modern medical equipment brought in by highly professional foreigners, it is hard for people to believe that their neighbor’s modest advice to, for example, boil their very dirty water in order to help them get over chronic intestinal issues, is worth listening to.
**Curt is always accepting donations, and I, honestly, can’t think of many more worthy causes. Please go to my website, www.pedalingforpeace.org and donate with the note “Health Promoters” if you are interested.**

AJ and I accompanied two women from San José de Apartadó to this training. It was both of their first time on a boat, or visiting the nearby city of Turbo. After a two-hour motorboat ride up Rio Sucio (or Dirty River) we were met at the docks by Curt. The river lived up to its name, as Curt pointed out that the tiny houses we had seen lining the river were, in fact, latrines. There were shorter houses, which were actually pigpens with holes in the floor so that the filth fell into the river. we saw people washing clothes, their hair, and getting drinking water from right next to these little houses.

The women are now eligible for a four-year course, in which they will make the long trip to Rio Sucio once every two months or so for a week of intensive classes. They will take home aspirin and anti-diarrheal medication from their first week of training, and will need to start treating patients immediately.

Embarque: The process of preparing bananas for export
Last but not least, I had the opportunity to accompany a group of women in the community as they cut, carried, washed, sorted, bagged, boxed and transported baby bananas for export to the US. Seeing this process changed the way I think about food, and gave me an appreciation for the monotony and difficulty of working land. I was with a woman who was my mother’s age (Yeah mom! My amazing mother just entered into the sixth decade of life!) and was able to lift 4-5 banana branches, each weighing at least 15-20 pounds, at a time. After she asked how many children my mother had (she has nine, I think), she asked, of course, how fat she was.

A Try at Justice? Colombian Military finally charged with massacre of Nobel Prize-nominated Peace Community Members

So much to say...it is hard to know where to start. The news that I have translated below, however, takes precedence over all interesting Janice life vignettes for now. To me, it is the most step forward that has been taken in regard to the Peace Community in years, and is a reason to have hope that things can get better in Colombia. Although it is completely uncertain where this investigation and judicial process will lead, that the investigation of the Peace Community massacre has gone forward at all, and on top of that that the Fiscalia (Prosecutor's office) has put itself on the line by accusing the Army of this massacre is hugely significant. I'll keep talking about this case in the future, but wanted to give you the facts first. The stones pictured have the names of some of the 180 peace community members that have been killed since its inception ten years ago.

This article draws heavily from, and at times directly translates, an article from the well-known Colombian weekly news magazine, Semana. http://www.semana.com/wf_InfoArticulo.aspx?idArt=101167

A Try at Justice? Colombian Military finally charged with massacre of Nobel Prize-nominated Peace Community Members

It was announced today that 69 members of the Colombian Army are being formally accused of the February 2005 massacre of eight Peace Community of San José de Apartadó residents, including the community leader Luis Eduardo Guerra, 4 other adults and 3 children ages 1, 6 and 11. Among those being accused by the Fiscalía (roughly the equivalent of the US Attorney General) are two military high-ranking officials, nine sub-officials and 58 professional soldiers. The eight community members were killed with machetes, some were dismembered, and placed in two communal, unmarked graves.

This is one of the most serious accusations against the Army in its history, according to the well-known weekly news magazine, Semana. The accusations are made even more serious by the fact that the Colombian government had been ordered to provide special protection to the Peace Community by the Inter-American Court on Human Rights.

The government, from the Army to President Uribe, has denied responsibility for the massacre for the past two years. Despite being in the first stage of prosecution, the action taken by the Fiscal today clearly indicates that the version of events the Army gave at the time of the massacre, in which they accused the leftist FARC guerrillas of being responsible, is false.

President Alvaro Uribe appeared on television shortly after the massacre and rather than condemning the massacre, he focused on his assertion that the Peace Community was infiltrated by the guerrillas saying “In this community there are good people, but some of its leaders, supporters, and defenders are seriously accused of assisting the FARC and of using the [Peace] Community to protect this terrorist organization.” Now, with the measure taken by the Fiscalía, it appears that the reality is, in fact, quite different.

The Fiscalía clarified today that there are not 56 soldiers, as was initially reported, but 69 soldiers that are accused of the crimes of “homicide against a protected person” and “terrorism” for the massacre in San José de Apartadó. This news comes just one day after the two-year anniversary of this massacre, and a month before the ten-year anniversary of the peace community.

Soldiers are charged with the crimes of homicide against a protected person and terrorism, along with the February 21st, 2005 murders of Luis Eduardo Guerra, a representative of the peace community; his partner, Deyanyra Areiza Guzmán; 10-year-old Deiner Andrés Guerra; Alfonso Tuberquia Graciano; Sandra Muñoz Pozo, y her children one-year-old Santiago, six-year-old Natalia.

The Peace Community was nominated for the Nobel Prize earlier this month by the American Friends Service Committee, and has been recognized internationally for its efforts to forge a peaceful path amidst a war-torn region.

Cacophonous accompaniment

(see end of post for definitions of some italicized terms)
I have never really had an excuse to use the phrase “Cacophony of sound” before. The suburbs where I grew up were sometimes eerily silent. In Littleton there were gentle, distinguishable bird sounds and the occasional fire station horn, but generally it was pretty quiet. When I lived in Philadelphia there were definitely explosions of sounds and fights, but not an ongoing “cacophony.” It is now 5:30am, and there is vallenato (think polka music in Spanish) music blaring from the military radio station in my window, it sounds like there is a rooster on my head, and the cows are fighting? mating? outside my window. A couple minutes ago, donkeys were sad apparently, and so they were braying, which is what AJ tells me it is called when they make this amazingly loud, desperate crying sound. And this all exists over merry chirping sounds of little birds. Curiously, the music is punctuated by station reminders with messages from the army, professing their respect for human rights and duty to protect Colombia.

Amañada? (Settled in, comfortable and happy yet?)
Maybe after some time out here I would get over my joy of hearing and seeing animals everywhere all the time. Maybe I would stop loving that community members stop by unannounced and uninvited starting at about 7 am, to talk a bit about: crops, how we are feeling, whether we are settled in (amañadas), and how much better the climate is in La Unión than in San Josesito (which exists two hours down the hill and is hotter) or in Bogotá (which is way too cold). Maybe I would tire of our diet of quinua in peanut butter sauce with fresh vegetables and lots of maracuyá. And maybe I would even start to tire of having to walk two hours and then wait for the chiva for an hour to get groceries. But I’m not sure.

It is a toss-up of whether I would tire even more of or come to love the local custom of greeting you with an assessment of your weight. Here is the approximate transcript of my introduction to an elderly man, who we’ll call Mr. Gallo, in the community:
AJ: Do you recognize Janice? She was here in August, and is here while Mireille is on vacation.
Elderly Mr. Gallo: Ah, very fat.
Janice: So nice to meet you. And what is your name?
Elderly Mr. Gallo: Very beautiful...and very fat.
Janice: Hmmmm.
(Silence)
AJ: OK, Don Gallo. May you stay healthy. See you soon!

When AJ & Mireille were hanging out with Mrs. Gallo the other week and explaining they didn’t eat meet, she alternately, somewhat lovingly rubbed each of their tummies, ruminating out loud on how amazing it was that two people could be so fat without eating any meat. When I met her, I assured her I did eat some meat, and she nodded knowingly.

Accompaniment
About a week ago I had my first proper accompaniment in San José. The consejo, or governing counsel, asked us to accompany the community and its leaders. Where would we go to on this important first official trip? To the beach, of course, for a day of rest and relaxation. We left the community at 5:30 in the morning, and piled into the bus the consejo had rented with about 40 community members. The bus was a converted American school bus, with the important difference that the distance between the seats, now made of wood, had been halved, the logic being that Colombians are shorter than Americans, or that if they have knees, they don’t really need them. We rolled into a not-so-promising sandy parking lot, and walked the 5 minutes or so up the path, where a surprisingly beautiful beach emerged. As AJ and I scurried off to the shade to hide our pale skin, the community members hung out on the beach and played in the waves. AJ & I lounged in hammocks, and I enjoyed some amazing fried shrimp.

It was easy to forget we were accompanying a threatened community, and on the way home AJ & I reminisced about the Red Sox 2004 World Series victory (she, of course, is a fan too) and relished this beach day with the mostly younger members of the community. And then, we were stopped by a group of soldiers who seemed to come from nowhere, and who seemed to be waiting for the bus. All of the community members were told to get off the bus, and all had to show what was in their bags, the men were patted down, and everyone had their identifications checked, and some rechecked. The soldiers recognized AJ and greeted her by name, since she had ridden up on the chiva with them the week before, and they had asked for Mireille’s number. It was a surreal experience: one soldier was fairly aggressivley and suspiciously questioning community members about their identity and whether they knew a certain woman, who had repeated her identification number incorrectly when asked, while at the same time other soldiers, not any older than my former students, were smiling and chatting us up. For me, it was an intense experience: I was reeling a bit, since everything was happening so quickly, and all I could think about was how glad I was that we were there with community, since I think it diffused the situation and at the same time how humiliating it is, to some extent, that in order to feel safe with their own government officials, the community members have to have internationals with them. We were the only ones whose identification and bags weren’t checked.

On that same road a few days later, a San Josesito resident and community member was detained. Her name is Amanda, and she is a single mother of four, and she works in the fields and often cooks for us and other community members. She was charged with four criminal counts: homicide, rebellion, kidnapping, and being affiliated with the guerrilla. Her name and the charges against her were broadcast all over the municipality. After a visit from the Defensor del Pueblo at the police station, roughly the equivalent of a human rights ombudsman, she was released the next morning, and apparently, all charges were dropped.

Premio Nobel de La Paz: “Vale la pena luchar”
We received word this week that the community has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by the American Friends Service Committee. This is an important recognition for the community, as anything that raises their profile makes them (and me) safer, and another reminder of how blessed I am to be living and working here. I was talking with a community member this week about life here, why he stays, and what he hopes for the future. He was born and raised in LU, and talked about the blissful times before the violence began, and then talked about all the work that needs to be done. He talked about how they want to have a high school which draws upon the knowledge that people here have about campo, or country, life, and which would teach young people skills they need to stay here – rather than teaching them things that will only be relevant if they leave. He talked about wanting to explore fair trade and organic certification for their crops and gaining access to new markets. And he talked about how when he was in Europe talking about the peace community, he had thought how boring it would be, because, well, everything is already done. The schools are built, the processes already developed to bring crops to market, and the society isn’t changing anymore. He said “vale la pena luchar” – it’s worth it to struggle, because of the possibility of what could exist here.

Random Definitions, as written by Janice, to be updated as she sees fit:
SJA=Peace Community of San José de Apartadó: A community of campesinos (see below) in northwestern Colombia near the Panamanian border that consists of several smaller veredas and whose residents have committed themselves to non-involvement with Colombia’s armed conflict. It has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for 2007.

AJ: My FOR teammate & amazing woman, whose blog is www.limpingtowardsjustice.blogspot.com

Vereda: A small village or settlement

Vallenato: The polka-inspired Colombian folk music which is on permanent rotation here in La Unión. The popular vallenato dance is performed by hugging your partner very tight and walking together by taking small, rapid steps forward and back.

LU=La Unión: The vereda of San José de Apartadó where FOR has its house. There are about 125 people living in this vereda, which is a two hour hike uphill from San Josesito.

La Holandita, San Josesita: The largest vereda in SJA, it was formed in 2002 after the police set up a post in the town center of San José. At that time, the entire community “displaced,” or moved, about 20 minutes down the road and built a new community from scratch. It is at least twice the size of La Unión.

Campesino: Derived from the word campo, which means countryside or rural, a campesino is a rural farmer.

Bestia: Literally “beast,” it refers to the horses and mules that bring people and goods up and down the mountain paths in and around SJA, and which Janice is now (in)famous for in SJA because she fell off one during the August delegation when she decided to take the high road and mule decided to take the low road.

La Posa: The swimming hole formed by the river that passes close by LU

chiva: The jeep that meets us in San Josesito and takes us the 45 minutes or so to the “city” of Apartadó.

paradise. take 2.

It feels funny to be finishing the blog entry below about my vacation, which although only over 2 days ago, is literally a world away. I write to you from La Union, the community which is the focus of FOR’s work in Colombia, the community featured in the documentary “Hasta la Ultima Piedra.” AJ, my teammate picked me up yesterday from Apartadó, the small city located a two-hour mule ride and 45-minute chiva, or jeep, ride down the picturesque mountains in which I now sit. She left at 5 am, in the dark, in order to meet me at the plane on time, which was of course then delayed for two hours. After getting a bite to eat (lots of cheese! since without a refrigerator in the community, I won’t have access to this staple food) and uploading the photos below in the small city of Apartadó (which would take hours if I were in the community), we headed to the bus terminal to get the chiva. The chiva is literally an open-top, American-made Jeep Wrangler into which a minimum of 10 and maximum of 21 people can be squeezed for the ride 45-minute from Apartadó to San José. Chivas don’t leave at any regular time, but rather leave when full. We bought vegetables at another open-air market, got some amazing juice, which is served in a 4-cup measuring cup, and waited for the next chiva to fill up with about 17 people for about an hour. We got to La Holandita, the community farther down the mountain from La Unión, at around 4:30, and readied ourselves for the two-hour hike up to La Unión, most of which I would do on a mule.

Many of you reading this have seen part of the documentary mentioned above, which I showed at least 13 times before and during my bike ride to Washington, DC, and which I subsequently know much of by heart. It recounts the story of the peace community of San José de Apartadó, and features the land and people who I am now staying with. This documentary has supplemented my memory of my trip here in August, so the first things that struck me were of the slight changes in the community from the documentary: one of the leaders of the community that is featured in the documentary had cut his hair, one of the children was about 6 inches taller, and the stream where the stones were being taken from to commemorate the community members killed in the conflict was a little lower. We did about half of the two-hour hike/mule-ride up to La Unión in the dark, and at dusk, I started hearing the sound of the sapos, or frogs, and crickets that comprised the soundtrack of the documentary.

The hike was beautiful, and we arrived in La Unión with an almost-full moon to the sounds of faint radios and frequent barks, chirps and clucks. After unpacking the goodies I had brought to La Union (movies, nutella, tahini, a mosquito-netted hammock!) AJ took good care of me, as the day had tired me out, and we lay out in our hammocks and enjoyed watching “bend it like beckham” on our computer. Overall, I am feeling soooo excited to be here! I have learned already today: that there are distinct calls to turn away the aggressively hungry (but not malnourished) pigs, dogs and chickens that roam the streets here; that a folk-cure for clotting wounds is to pour gasoline on them (though they then still need our non-expert skills and supplies to bandage them); and that amongst our other duties in the community, we are a homework help center for the community children after 6 pm. I am happy to have awoken to the sounds of chickens and an unhappy cow outside, and looking forward to the next couple of weeks.
Jelacy, a dear child who lives in LU and smiles a lot
Update: we haven’t had internet access since I got here (and now that it is up, it is veeeerrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy slow, so I apologize in advance for not returning emails over the next two weeks), so that is why the date I wrote this doesn’t match up to when it was posted! Since yesterday, we went to the posa, or swimming hole, with the children of the community, and then sat with the kids and ate guama, a cocoa like fruit – you suck the sweet casings off the seeds, and then, of course, throw the seeds at each other. I am inexplicably sleeping a huge amount, but am feeling well, and ready to continue meeting community members. As you might be able to tell, things are quiet here as of now...and we pray they continue to be.

beach bliss, a change in...everything

Isla Grande, of the Oslas del Rosario

After an amazing amazing week on the coast with wonderful friends, I am off to the community for a couple weeks (see my website, www.pedalingforpeace.org - and follow the links to "Info about San Jose de Apartado" to learn more...OR, even better. follow the link on the right side of this page to my teammate AJ's blog, who has been in the community since she arrived and gives a great overview of it). I am a little under the weather after lots of sun, flying and changes in altitude, but am eager - as I think I've said in my last three entries, to get out to the community and do many of the things that I came here to do. My current teammates think I'm a little loca, I think: they seem quite sick of the mosquitos, isolation, heat and daily routine. For better or for worse, those things are what I prepared myself for, and I am ready to start this next stage of my time here. I don't know how much internet access I will have, but will try to update this more fully later today and at least once during my time there. Please, keep me in your thoughts.


Here are pictures and a little bit of description from our trip...
Cartagena:
Cartagena is the most beautiful city I've ever seen. It is rightly famous for its balconies dripping with bouganvillea, the amazing purple flower pictured in this photo. It is also a city divided...there is literally a wall dividing the wealthy, picturesque "old city" from the new, bustling, skyscraper and slum-strewn part. Alas...we were on vacation, and did spend most of our time in the old city, but also got a chance to see how balconies and flowers gave way to poverty, filth and displaced communities once you stepped outside the walled city.













Santa Marta:
Mis amigas in Santa Marta, where the sea meets the mountains. Santa Marta is supposedly four, but actually 6 or 7, hours east of Cartagena along the coast. It has the highest sea to mountain rise in the world - which means there are breathtaking views of mountains crashing into the sea everywhere you look. It has about half a million people, but quickly breaks up into isolated beaches and fishing villages on its outskirts. We spent three days there, with a lovely guide shepharding us on and off lanchas, or small boats, showing us the area, with a hotel right on the beachfront (where we swam in the mornings). We also visited the beaches of Parque Tayrona, a breathtaking National Park which consists mainly of fairly desolate jungle, we've heard, but we were content to hang out on its beached sea outskirts, where we did some amazing snorkeling.






Bogota:
Us with Francisco, who is a native Bogotano, and who went to grad school with Gabi. He was our gracious tourguide, and showed us the paradasical national library pictured here, with Cartagena-like bouganvillea spilling over its sides. The library is surrounded by water, has gorgeous window views everywhere, and even has free internet. I plan on making this the FOR satellite office when I return to Bogotá.




The mayor's plea for peace: The current mayor, Garzón is from the Liberal party, and the current president, Alvaro Uribe, is from the Conservative party. Their offices sit across from the equivalent of a small National Mall from each other, and so the mayor likes to make huge political banners and hang them outside his office so that the president, and legislature and courts, for that mattter, know how he stands. This banner says:"Peace feeds us - do not kill it," a reference, perhaps, to stalled peace negotiations or the recent para-political scandal which has implicated many high-level government officials of being directly involved in promoting the violent paramilitary agenda.

A real blog from Janice.

My mom wrote to me after my last post and let me know, gently but clearly, that re-posting others' accounts of an experience didn’t count as a real blog. doh. She has a point...but I have been feeling like my life here is rather unremarkable since the New Year. Which, I realize now, is actually quite remarkable. I am feeling settled in here: I know how to direct taxis to my house, and realize if they’re taking the long way. I know the best place in the city to buy wooden chairs, fresh peppers, and nutella. I have a favorite dance place, a favorite bike ride, and a favorite pizza place. And I have enough local phone numbers in my cell phone to have to tab through them.

So, of course, it is now time for me to go. The next couple months will be hugely different from the past two. Three of my bestest friends in the world arrive on Friday, and we are going to the coast (Cartagena and Santa Marta) for a week of vacation, and will spend a little time here in Bogotá as well. After that, I head to the Peace Community for two weeks. After that, Gilberto departs, and I will be joined by a new team member, Camila. We then will receive visits from the San Francisco staff, and then another new team member, Mayra, comes, and we will prepare to return to the community again.

There is much to say about each of these events, and I look forward to reflecting on them in my blog as they happen. I am particularly anxious about Gilberto leaving, as we have spent every working morning, noon and night together, essentially, since I arrived. This reminds me a bit if my first year teaching at Parker, when Lisa Palaia and I would joke we were married, but since Gilberto and I also live together, it escalates this metaphor! I am excited about Camila’s arrival, but am also feeling the weight of being the soon-to-be senior member of the Bogotá office. Thankfully, it looks like Gilberto will be around the corner working with Peace Brigades International, and that our old teammate Trish will also be in town, so in case of emergency, they have promised to help me out.

January is a strange month to be “working” in Colombia, since no Colombians are working. From the second week in December until...next week, basically everything is shut down. The banks, the government offices, the local restaurant, the laundry place with most of my clothes locked inside it, the yoga place...Colombians are serious about their vacations. I was periodically annoyed about this, until I stopped and remembered that this is one thing I appreciate deeply about this country and this culture: people make time for family, rest and breathing (even if it is contaminated air).

I have had wonderful experiences during the past couple weeks, but they have stopped feeling totally new and foreign. As a result, I don’t have pictures! I have stopped feeling like I want to document and apprehend every moment of this new life- and have started to feel a comfortable rhythm here.

Some interesting things have been/will be:
* After taking the transmilenio (the subway-like bus that has its own lane on the major roadways in Bogotá) all the way to its ends, my Bogotano friend Julio and I took another bus into the hills that hug Bogotá. After our self-guided tour of the city, we went downtown to buy a guitar pick for me (I am taking lessons!) and a cell phone gadget for him. As we exited a technology flea market and rounded onto a fairly nice plaza, he told me that previously, the plaza, and in fact the whole area, had been the most dangerous, drug-ridden, seedy part of the city. To deal with this, the mayor of Bogotá literally bulldozed this 5-square block area, and made a park – called “Park of the New Millenium.” I asked where all the residents and their related activity had gone after they had been bulldozed, and he told me that some had been shipped out to a suburban part of Bogotá, some had been arrested, and some had been relocated to “the L.” we walked half a block, and he showed me a street which was blocked off to traffic. Visible from outside were police guards at the ends of this stretch, and a permeating, muddy brown – the people and their clothes, their goods & worldly possessions lying haphazardly on the street, the street itself – which smelled like it looked. After standing outside the street and watching a few people dressed like us come and go without incident, we decided to walk down this two-block stretch, which at the end turns rights and goes for another block (hence, it’s called the “L”). What I saw on this street was the embodiment of human misery – people passed out everywhere, drug use happening in the open, kids laying beside their stoned parents, and unspeakable filth. Julio and I walked quickly through with our heads down, and though we were called after, didn’t feel threatened. At 11am on a sunny day with a local guide, this felt like an OK thing to do – and though it was awful, I am glad I saw another side of Bogotá, nestled only blocks away from shiny skyscrapers and peaceful church squares.

* I am learning a lot about how the US vets the Colombian military for human rights violations. The Leahy Law, sponsored in 2001 by Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont, prohibits U.S. military assistance to foreign military units that violate human rights with impunity. In theory, this law should give an incentive for the Colombian military to improve their human rights practices in order to continue receiving aid from the US. In practice, little is known about how this vetting happens, and it has been argued that units avoid being “de-certified” for human rights compliance through loopholes in the law: the US overrides a decertification recommendation if it deems it important enough; once a unit is cleared, new soldiers are transferred in that haven’t been screened; they use private contractors, or mercenaries, who don’t have to be screened; or the few identified human rights violators are transferred out of a unit, which then clears the whole unit without examining their human rights practices as a whole. Gilberto and I are meeting with the US Embassy to learn more about this this week, and I am fascinated to learn how this well-intentioned policy work here on the ground.

* This might seem less remarkable to some people, but I found a wonderful local farmers’ market only about twenty minutes from my house. I love open-air markets all over the world, but this one in particular is enchanting. I love interacting with the people who, oftentimes, produce the food. I love how vegetables stretch out before you, and that it is always noisy, and that I hear “a la orden” (at your service) hundreds of times, and that you have hundreds of options of where you want to buy tomatoes, so you can look for the hard ones that are red but not over-ripe, and that you can get anything in the market – and that everyone knows, in an acres-wide market, where you would find ceramic plates and a basil plant. I love that when you buy meat, you have to really confront what it means to be a carnivore, because the meat stand has a pig’s head for sale. And I love that I got a backpack and two big bags worth of vegetables for under twenty dollars. I feel like this is one of the only times I feel fairly good about being a consumer – I talk with the people selling the vegetables, I am outside, I am supporting small farmers, and I am buying healthy fresh food. I don’t have a picture of it, since I have stopped taking pictures! But will get one soon and update this.

OK – When I next update this I will be on the beach!

An Unlikely Prisoner

A mural from inside the office of the Red Juvenil


This is an article that Gilberto wrote following our visit to Claudia Montoya, a young lawyer who is under house arrest supposedly for "subversive acts" in Medellín. She has been working with one of the groups we accompany, the Red Juvenil, or Youth Network, for many years. The Red Juvenil works on promoting resistance to the war and promoting non-violent alternatives to youth. As you will read, this was a surreal experience...

Letter from the Field
An Unlikely Prisoner
By Gilberto Villaseñor III

"What were your days like in prison?" Janice asked. It was a little odd talking about prison life in Claudia Montoya's living room with her mother and teenage cousins looking on, all of them busily making Christmas ornaments with beads and string. Claudia, a lawyer for the Red Juvenil (Youth Network) of Medellín who is currently under house arrest, had learned this skill in a prison workshop.

Claudia responded, "Each morning we were awakened at 6:30 am by the guards, at 7:30 am we ate a sensible breakfast. During the day they kept us busy with workshops, anything so we wouldn't think. And we were in bed by 8 pm."

Had you been walking through her quiet middle class neighborhood that day, that topic of conversation might have been the furthest thing from your mind. Claudia discussed the process of her arrest. "There were security forces everywhere up and down my block and people with guns on rooftops. I was afraid that I would be seen being arrested and taken out of my house but I was grateful that no one saw me. There was so much police, you couldn't see me anyway." There is an aspect of public shaming related to being a political prisoner, a way of making you look guilty even if you aren't.

As a lawyer for the Red Juvenil, she has been working with conscientious objectors and political prisoners since 2002. The Red works with youth in teaching about nonviolence and conscientious objection to participation in Colombia's civil war. We were all very excited to finally meet her because she had recently been released from prison where she had been held on charges of rebellion since October 18 – one month and twenty days in all. The Red Juvenil, an organization that FOR accompanies, considers her a political prisoner and someone who has been detained because of her political work on behalf of her organization in search of nonviolent solutions to Colombia's civil war.


"Indifference - Not in My Name"


Her house arrest continues pending the outcome of the judicial process against her - which may last as long as another six months. According to the testimonies of five former guerrillas, she had been seen dressed as a guerrilla and carrying a rifle. She was moved into house arrest when three of the testimonies were considered to be contradictory.

FOR's Colombia team been following her case and issued a letter of support for the Red's work in response to Claudia's detention and threats made against other Red members. We were prepared to visit her in prison on a recent trip to Medellin, when we were told about the good news of her release. On December 12, team members visited Claudia at her house in Medellín.

Claudia isn't the typical image of a prisoner. She is a little more than five feet tall and quite thin. Her face seemed to be chiseled in the way that happens to people when they've been eating less than usual. She is a soft-spoken and articulate person, traits not normally considered to be assets in prison, but in her case made her into an undesirable prisoner. Luckily, Claudia understood very well the legal process against her and knew when her rights were being violated. She protested when she was pressured to submit to being part of a line-up without her lawyer present. Other prisoners with less education or legal experience haven't been so lucky.

Her mother brought us cookies and coffee as we talked. The sun beamed through the skylight in the middle of the house and illuminated the comfortable living room where we were all gathered. Two loud, brusque politicos wandered in, speaking a mile a minute. What was discernable was that they, too, recognized the injustice of what Claudia had been through and wanted to show their support. Family pictures formed the backdrop of our meeting and Claudia smiled back at all of us, along with the rest of her family.

sandbags, rumbas, winter-making, and cat calls

Sandbags:
One of the difficulties in improving the human rights situation in Colombia is that most people in the cities are immune to the war going on, to the terrible human rights abuses perpetrated by the military, paramilitary and guerrillas, and to the dire poverty that exists in so much of the countryside. Because of this indifference, generating the political pressure necessary to change these conditions is difficult. After being here a month, I get why this urban-rural disconnect exists. Bogotá is a city that reminds me more of a European capital than anything I have experienced in Central America, Africa or even Colombia’s neighbors Peru and Ecuador. I walk around in the evening alone and feel safe (yikes! It’s OK mom – all the internationals and Colombians do it too), I go to the posh swimming complex, then go out for crepes and waffles at a nice local restaurant. I had breakfast with one Bogotano who told me that “I don’t know anything about human rights abuses, but the city under Uribe (the current president) is much safer.” Indeed, in the whole country, the number of reported crimes has fallen dramatically since Uribe took power in 2002 – homicides are down 40%, acts of terror by 66%, and extortive kidnappings by 79%. This coexists, however, with ever-more internally-displaced persons, the continuance of “extra-judicial executions carried out directly by the security forces, as well as the still high number of ‘disappearances’” according to Amnesty International. Most of the violence, however, is now concentrated in the rural areas. This city is huge (8 million people – bigger than NYC) and it can feel like this newly-safe city is the whole world, which makes it difficult to imagine that a starkly different reality exists in other parts of the country.

I was on a 10-hour bus trip to Medellin when I was reminded that the Bogotá experience differs greatly from that of most of the country. The road from Bogotá to Medellín used to be dangerous because it was contested between the guerillas and the military. Uribe put a huge amount of money and attention into securing this road, and it is now considered fairly safe. In practice, this means that every mile or so along this journey you see military men, and that there are sandbag bunkers every 5 miles. I have never seen sandbag bunkers before, and something about the sight of them made the fact that there is a war going on hit home for me. The sandbag bunkers are like kid forts – they are about the size of a mid-sized bathroom, about 5 feet tall, and consist of small bags of sand put together like bricks, with space made for the windows. The young sometimes-scared, sometimes-swaggering soldiers that occasionally boarded the bus have to use those "forts" to protect themselves in case of an attack.

I do feel like I need this reminder that there is a war going on to work effectively in the Bogotá office. I know I am doing work that is centrally connected to protecting the lives of campesino peace activists by being here in Bogotá; ready to respond by meeting with officials and sending out international calls to action if anything should happen, and in the meantime supporting our teammates that are living out in the community and forming relationships with other peace groups and international activists. But sometimes it feels a little...dare I say...cushy. I am looking forward to going to the community for a couple weeks in February to be jarred in my perspective of Colombia.
It is illegal to take pictures of anything military-related in this country, including sandbags....so I have put up a picture of flowers instead.


Despedida: Goodbyes
People like to party, or rumbear, in Colombia. And not the have-people-over-for-2-hours-and-more-if-it’s-really-fun type of party. We are talking parties that start at 6 pm, and end at 7 in the morning. We had a New Year’s party that went like this, and it was wonderful and fun, and fantastically exhausting. But I digress. One of the many things I am coming to love about this country is the way people say good bye. And there are lots of goodbyes to say...especially hanging out with the international community. People are generally here for a term of about a year, so in a community of 30 people or so, there are constantly people leaving. And each departure calls for a grand “despedida,” or good bye party. At the despedida, everyone brings food and drink to share, people pass around guitars, and as it gets later people tend to salsa more and more, as dancing is the chosen Colombian strategy of staying awake. There is no rush to...do anything, since the party may last for 12 hours, and sometimes people nap on a couch at the party for a couple hours to refuel for later in the evening/morning. Coming to Colombia, or leaving, is a big deal in most people’s lives – and it feels right that time should stop, that people should spend longer than a working day recognizing and celebrating one’s time here.

“Está haciendo invierno:” It is making winter
Colombia doesn’t have seasons like we think of them. In fact, a season can happen in one morning. A typical day here starts our warm with brilliant sun streaming in through our windows. Around 2 or 3, it often rains. And this is the time when, if you ask a Bogotano how the weather is, they will say it is “making winter.” Making winter means, simply, that it is overcast and raining, and something about conceptualizing seasons as this transient tickles me.
According to my Lonely Planet, we are now in the dry season, which last until March, and it is also fairly dry from July to August. But global warming is throwing a wrench into any semblance of seasons that Colombia thought it had, and in the peace community it has been downpouring for the past couple of weeks, throwing off the planting season and reaking havoc on the crops.

“Mira mira. Pst. pst.” – Look. look. Psst. psst.
I have taken the phenomena of cat calls, where all women, but especially foreigners, are called to – literally as you would call a cat – while walking down the street as part of reality for me in Latin America. In most places I have traveled on this continent, many (maybe even most) men from between the ages of 15 and 90 will stop and stare as foreign women walk by, and often hiss at them, whistle, call to them or in some other way acknowledge their passing – if I’m feeling like rationalizing behavior, I can think of it as their way of saying hi and welcoming us to their country. It can be disconcerting, a little scary, alienating, dare I say occasionally flattering? In any case, it is weird, but I had come to expect that as part of my experience in Latin America. It doesn’t happen in Bogotá. I can hypothesize the reasons why – that it is a more sophisticated, European city; that the population is racially more diverse, and until I open my mouth, I can pass for a Bogotano – but the absence of this low-level harassment on a daily level is a welcome change in my daily life here from what I expected.

Amigos: Friends
I am making good friends here, which is of course is less interesting and novel to write about, but is the heart and soul of my experience here. Here is a picture of me with Gilberto, my house-mate, working partner, and the person I have spent most waking hours with. I am grateful for all that I am learning from him, not to mention his *incredible* cooking.


Here is a picture I took of Amazing Amanda in Suesca, a breath-taking little town on the outskirts of Bogotá, where I plan to go to have a pollution-free, healthy retreat from the city on a regular basis. Amanda and a group of friends, and maybe me in the future, rent this cute little cabin there, which has the best bathroom “door” I have ever seen.

feliz año nuevo!!

So, I spent the first christmas of my life outside the comfort, plenty and deliciousness of my great granparents' house in Lowell, MA. Thanks to the wonders of technology, I talked to my whole family on skype, a free internet program which allows you to talk to people via computer. I spent christmas eve with a group of mainly international human righs folks, and spent the night at the house of two friends, who made me Swedish pancakes the next morning to eat in their backyard garden, and told me that santa had indeed found me! I got a lovely frog mug, and the knife that Carolina, one of my friends, had "robbed" from me during the Yankee swap of the night before.

We then set out on ciclovia on my new bike: Of all the things I imagined myself doing in Colombia, whizzing along major streets on beautifully-paved and clearly demarcated bike paths through the middle of the city wasn’t one of them. Colombia produces some of the best bicyclists in the world, and though thy train mostly in the Andes, there are also bike paths for them and the general population throughout the city, and on holidays and Sundays, the city shuts down most of the main roads so that bicyclists and pedestrians can enjoy the city without fearing the usually-intense traffic and clogged roadways. Over a million people generally come out. On Christmas Day, we ended up in the Central Park of Bogota, Parque Bolivar, where hundreds of families were enjoying the holiday, renting boats to row around the pond, eating corn on the cob, and pitching tents to have picnics in and protect them from the sun. I biked around the city for hours that day, getting to know people and nooks that I never would be able to without a bike.


The holidays are a strange time for us in Bogota, because things are pretty quiet in some ways. Most offices are closed through mid-January, people are not thinking about work, and no meetings can happen. However, it is historically one of the more dangerous times for the peace community we accompany. There is more drinking, more armed groups sad to be away from home and looking for a way to blow off steam, and therefore more danger. It also means that we can't be on vacation with our families now, and that those team members in the community, especially, are on high alert amidst the celebrations. I am actually really looking forward to going to the community - which will happen, if all goes as planned, towards the beginning of the new year. Being in Bogota is amazing in many ways, but it is difficult to the work to support the community without having been there for an extended period of time.

Feliz Navidad!

I hope this finds everyone well. I am preparing to spend the first christmas ever not in my aunt's house in Lowell, MA - and it is hard, but will be OK I think. I am off to go hiking for the weekend with some friends after a long week of moving, getting over a tough cold, and doing some interesting interviews and work here. I am safe, blessed, and continuing to learn amazing amounts about Colombia, accompaniment work and myself. Lots more topics to come - but I need to run. Abrazos a todos!

knee-deep

And this was after the easy, dry hike.

I have entered the Colombian experience I was more expecting, complete with knee-high mud, a bit of sickness, barely-functioning toilets, intense work, and looong bus rides. More to come, but suffice to say I am well, looking forward to being back in ¨home¨in Bogota after some time away, and finally feel like I merit some of the prayers and well-wishes that I know are being sent my way.


My past week in pictures:
Teammates Aj & Mireille eat a leisurely lunch during our team retreat in the mountains outside Medellin. The retreat provided time for the entire FOR Colombia team to be together, break bread..errr...arepas with nutella and peanut butter, and to blaze a new trail into this beautiful farmhouse. Without a road out or any contact with the outside world, we had three intense days of bonding, singing and even working.

Tipping point?
Medellin, Colombia's second-largest city, has really nice public transportatin. Really nice. After experiencing success with a metro system that makes Washington, DC's look dirty, they put in a "metrocable," or Swiss-like gondola system. The high-tech, quiet and immaculately clean cars climb into the hills on the outskirts of Medellin, where for about a dollar they enable the poorer residents who live in the nieghborhoods along its path to descend the hill in about ten minutes, rather than making the treacherous descent on a bus. There are signs placed along the metro and the metrocable urging residents to take the clean, considerate, efficient culture of this public transportation success back to the streets of Medellin. The picture below was taken right below where the metrocable passes over.

Madres Peace Prize
During FOR's August human rights delegation, I was perhaps most moved by the work of the "Madres de la Candelaria." Since 1999, a group of family members of those disappeared in the dirty war in Colombia have gathered outside the largest church in Medellin each Wednesday at noon to ask for their safe return, or as they chant "Los queremos vives, libres, y en paz" - We want them alive, free and in peace. We had the opportunity to visit them, hear their stories, and show our support for their work, and to congratulate them on winning the Colombian Peace Prize.

settling in.

A rainy view of Bogotá from the top of Montserrat. It rains most days in the afternoon, but hasn't gone above 65 or below about 50.


It's only been 12 days, though it feels like longer. My feet are finding the ground, and I am happy, overall. some highlights...

High-altitude truce
On Sunday, I climbed up Montserrat...the one in Colombia. The mountain is only safe to climb on Sundays - there is a kind of informal agreement between the pick-pocketers and the city residents that if you walk up the almost 2,000 feet to the top of this pilgrimage site on Sundays, you will be left alone. The rest of the week, you most probably will come down the mountain shoeless, peso-less, and a little shaken up! The city of Bogotá resides at a comfortable 8,530 feet, and Montserrat rises up on the eastern side, visible, from almost anywhere at 10,367 feet. I was grateful for my bike “training,” as I could barely keep up with my more-seasoned Bogotá friends. Overall, I don’t notice the altitude too much, except that I am hungrier than I have ever been. The steady rain also helped keep me cool!

The path up to Montserrat, with a Christmas start that lights up at night.





The restaurant at the top of Montserrat. Pilgrims come not for the food...but to visit the "fallen Jesus," whose likeness resides in the nearby church, and who is said to respond to favors from those who make the journey up the mountain. Though you can get up the mountain by cable car or train, we decided that you're way more likely to get your prayers answered if you make the steep, hardcore climb.

Bureaucracy...
wow. This entire country seems to have been trained by the DMV architects in how to make what could be single-step processes not only multi-step, but multi-locational and many-hours-consuming.
1: Last week I said I was off to confront the bureaucracy...and I did so for 7 hours. Before coming to Bogotá, I had already mailed my passport away, done some paperwork, and gotten my visa. Now that I’m here, I need a cédula, or identification card. So, naturally, that took 7 HOURS at the equivalent of the FBI offices...where I had to wait on one line to tell them why I was there, another one to tell me what I needed to do, then I had to go outside the office and get my picture taken, go 15 minutes down the street to a specific bank to pay the fee, go to the hospital, where they took my blood, and I waited 45 minutes so they could record my blood type (B+), and then wait for another hour so I could submit this important documentation. And, I have to back in two weeks to pick up the cédula. The laminating machine was out of order.

2: There is a pool down the street where I have started swimming. It is Olympic-sized, in a modern, fieldhouse-like structure. And it is way nicer than any pool I have ever seen in the US. So...Gilberto and I went to go swimming there. Our miscalculation was that we got there at 2:20, and of course we are allowed in only on the hour. Granted, the pool was empty, but we would need to wait, since that was the system. Upon entering, I was told that I would be allowed to wear only my bathing suit (none of this sarong business), my bathing cap and goggles. Towels have been deemed not appropriate for the pool area. When you have your correct bathing uniform on, you go through a tunnel with automatically-activated showers, then must step through a shallow pool to wash your feet off. You may swim for only an hour, then you must shower before leaving. No exceptions. That said, I had a really nice one-hour swim.

La mujer de la luz
On Tuesday night, I went to help out fellow FOR volunteer Trish, whose place I will be taking on the team. She , along with her compañero, have rented a big performance space in Bogotá to use for just-beginning musicians for night performances, and eventually as a space for NGOs and community-based classes or programs to happen during the day. I helped paint the space, typically getting as much paint on my shoes, nose and elbows(?) as on the wall, and all was well until the lights went out. Luckily, always prepared-ish, I had my headlamp with me, and so enabled the painting to go on, as I followed the painters with my light. They renamed me La mujer de la luz: the woman of light.

Small world
I have met amazing people since I got here. Part of the key, of course, is that other internationals in Bogotá inherently have a huge amount in common. Perhaps unsurprising, then: I was hanging out with a Witness for Peace volunteer, who a friend from the States had put me in touch with, and she took me to meet her friend...who it turns out I met last year at a PBI (Peace Brigades International) information weekend. The whole experience feels a little like college, in that we’re all away from home, a little giddy about the work we are doing and all we have to learn, and we are all looking for community here. Yesterday I attended Fulbrighters’ presentations of their work...and ran into a Harvard grad student who knows my good friend Andrew Kinney, who I have known since middle school. Of course.

I am happily getting into the office work here in Bogotá, enjoying the challenges of starting a new job, and am looking forward to going to Medellín, the second-biggest city on the country, soon. I will attempt to publish this on Sundays or Mondays in the future. Besotes y Abrazotes!

Jan y sus amigas nuevas

¡Llegué a Colombia! Ice cream, cold showers, good people...and thanks.

The view from my bed of the sun rising over the mountains that border Bogota.

Wow. After a crazy week of transporting my bike from Washington to Littleton (stripped pedals = bike-boxing Amtrak misery), packing up my house with the heroic efforts of my family, a couple wonderful send-off parties (Thank you FCU & Harveys! Thank you Gabi & Sandip!) and an amazing Thanksgiving dinner cooked by my sister...

...I am here. I am in Colombia. I arrived late Friday, and have spent a rather glorious weekend walking around the city, adjusting to the difference in altitude, and pinching myself. After the excitement and inspiration on the bike trip and the crazy hecticness of last week, I had somehow pushed out of my mind that I was actually going to be here.

What are fun tidbits that I have I learned so far about Colombia?
*That Colombians love ice cream. Even in the rain. It's amazing: there are families, couples, all types of people lining up for ice cream everywhere we go. And it's not too warm - maybe in the 50s! What happens when it's hot?
*That wicked high-speed internet can co-exist in the same apartment with an ice-cold shower.
*That arepas are small, thick corn tortillas which taste really good with butter.
*That you can get Dunkin Donuts in Bogota.

As you might sense, right now, the hard work to come seems a bit distant. I am reveling in the excitement of discovering a new city, the process of getting to know my new teammates, and laying the groundwork to stay healthy and well-balanced amidst what I expect to be overwhelmingly intense work. I woke up my first morning here and went to yoga with Gilberto and Trish, my two teammates. In yoga, I stretched and sang (yes, in Colombia, apparently, you sing in yoga class!). Yesterday, Gilberto took me on an urban tour, and we dallied in flea markets, experimented with Colombian food, and saw a movie. Life here, so far, is blessedly fun. The heaviness I feel now is about knowing how much I am going to miss people from home and sadness at leaving a life which has been so fulfilling and nurturing in Littleton.

On the plane and since I got here, I do keep thinking about the last service I went to at the Unitarian Church in Littleton. Fred Small, the minister, talked about being thankful. He said:
"To be thankful is the hardest thing and the easiest thing in the world...It’s the easiest thing in the world for anyone to be thankful when we really pay attention...By being mindful of the present moment, we remember the gifts of life we enjoy just by being alive."

I am humbled and overwhelmed and deeply thankful for all of your support. I have really been paying attention to this support...and it helps me enjoy my arrival here and feel that I am floating on all of your well-wishes in this new stage of my life.

That's all for now - off to meet with the bureaucracy and get my papers in order.

Graffiti in downtown Bogota which reads "Yankees out! No to the Free trade agreement! No to oppresiion!"

On the way home

a cell phone self-portrait in dc

The rumble of the train is somehow less comforting than I thought it would be. While my legs appreciate the rest, I feel pretty lazy and couch-potatoish after a few days off the bike. This may be due, in part, to my failure to return to my pre-bike trip diet of healthy foods like fruits and vegetables and Trader Joe’s fare, and the continuance of the presence of lots of eggs, cheese, breads and sausage in my system, despite the lack of exercise. While sausage and eggs made sense on mornings that I would bike 50 miles, interestingly that does not hold true for days that I will sit in meetings or on trains.

We took a break from our lobbying to visit Mr. Cerutti’s class at the Maya Angelous Charter School, an amazing place in NW Washington. With small classes (10-15 students), long days (they serve 3 meals a day to the students, and they stay until 7:30!) and attention to the development of important life skills (they start bank accounts for the students and match their savings), it seems like there are really positive things happening. The students were engaged and attentive to our information-intensive presentation, and even stayed with us as we experienced technical difficulties. I always hesitate to talk “at” students, but it’s hard to do otherwise when you have a short period of time and so much you want to convey! That said, they were great...and many of them had even read our blog! I hope to keep in touch with them over the next year.

We finished up our time on Capitol Hill with two more Congressional meetings, where we joined Peace Community leader Renato Areiza and Eric Lopp from Peace Brigades International. Hearing Renato speak about the serious threats to the community brought a weightiness to the work we have been doing. Underneath the adventure, success and fun of this bike trip, the reality of the Colombian situation and the work that I will be doing in the next year is really...hard. At the event on Tuesday night in DC, Renato talked about the importance of PBI and FOR’s presence in the community. I continue to be inspired by the work that the community is doing, and am proud to be part of supporting their work, and of raising some of the funds to permit this work to coninue.

The next week will be a whirlwind of packing, quick goodbyes, final preparations for departure, and some sadness at leaving the amazing life I have in Littleton, and that I had while teaching at Parker. When I update this next, I will most likely be in Colombia. Thank you to all who have read this,
Janice & Fedelma.

Ya! We made it! We're in DC! Yippee!

Janice and Fedelma smile after many long days.

After two delicious days of low miles while at Pendle Hill, a 77-mile, 3-state odyssey of a day, and a final lap through cold, wind and rain, we have landed safely in DC!!

After much fretting about the route on Friday, I (Janice) decided to take us the “direct” route on Saturday from Swarthmore, PA to Chestertown, MD– which turned out to be 5 miles longer than the “indirect” route which had been suggested to us. We glided through Swarthmore, Chester and Wilmington, and had done almost 20 miles by breakfast, and 45 miles by lunch. Feeling quite cocky and proud of ourselves, we decided to dine in Chesapeake City, and even – gasp – backtracked a bit to go to the perfect lunch place which let us sit right on the water in the 78-degree weather. While the unseasonably hot weather did remind us of impending climate disaster, we still managed to enjoy ourselves immensely, and even celebrated with a mid-day glass of champagne and toasted our 45-mile accomplishment. Predictably, we would come to regret this choice and our early optimism in the next couple of hours, as we struggled through a strong headwind throughout Maryland. We were on route 213 for the remainder of the day, where the mile signs which consistently poked holes in our fantasies of almost-doneness. We stopped twice in the final 10 miles to refuel, gulp the remaining gorp, and to visualize this evasive doneness. When the end finally came, we were met by comfy couches, our staple athletes’ diet of fried cheese and potatoes, and free popcorn at Andy's bar and restaurant in Chestertown. I went to see my former clients at the Kent Center, and Fedelma became one with the couch and her book for a couple hours. After a lovely dinner with old friends, we yet again landed at a warm, welcoming house – though since we got there late, we got to spend much less time with Ford and Marilee than we would have liked. We were there just long enough to infer from the Grateful Dead and “potters for peace” stickers, the amazing views of the Chesapeake bay, and the cozily eclectic house that we would have liked to stay much longer.

My friend Andy picked us up early the next morning and transported us over the Bay Bridge, where we remembered promptly that this biking thing could be hard work. After deciding to willfully ignore the weather forecast - our mutual internal narrative must have gone something like: “low of 44? that can’t be right. looks warmer. yesterday sure was warm...” Doh. It was cold, and our misplaced cynicism forced us to repack our bags in the pouring rain as we began our final day of pedaling. After 15 miles, we decided to take an early lunch at Subway...and then after finding ourselves unready to leave the warmth and comfort of food and heat, we walked next door to another restaurant, sat for another hour and ate some more. Finally on the road again, the hills mercifully returned and allowed us to warm our cold, wet selves on the final leg of the trip. We rolled into DC around dusk, and were treated to a hero’s welcome at my friend Alyssa’s house, where Fedelma got to use the upstairs steam shower while Janice soaked in the downstairs jacuzzi.

Today we met with aides to Janice’s Representatives: John Kerry, Edward Kennedy and Martin Meehan. The meetings were infinitely less stressful and more productive than we both supposed, and I am looking forward to more tomorrow, and also to joining Renato Areiza, a leader from the peace community, who is in DC. We are having an event at Provisions Library - here are the details for any DC folks that would like to come:
Date: Tuesday, November 14th
Time: 6:00pm - 8:00pm
Location: Provisions Library
1611 Connecticut Ave. NW
Washington DC, 20009
202-299-0460

Hope to see some of you there!