i write this entry smiling broadly as i find myslelf in a place that is saturated of smog...but i have managed to find a patch of a place that is filled with the aroma of freshly cut knee-high grass.....it reminds me of soccer season. i also got to go for a run this morning...in the drizzle.... my legs had almost forgot how to put one in front of the other quicker than what one needs to hike up a mountain or walk along a sidewalk.
The winds have picked up for me, and my wings have spread out as the summer air currents offer me a chance to sail and ruffle my feathers. I have accepted this offer of change....and now write my last email from the country that has been my home for the past year-Colombia. I wrote a bit of this while i was in La Union still working with FOR, and another bit today as i prepare for my departure back to Canada....

I listen to the pigeons that have gathered on our roof, their little feet scratching on our tin roof and their soft gurggling as they play with each other. This is definately a noise I will associate with my experience here in La Union as i wake up to the morning sun and periodically throughout the day. The gentle breeze flows in through our open office window and I look over to see the cotton ball clouds watching us from the blue sky, and I drink in the crisp outline of delicious combination of green from every leaf on the mountain side. A small group of folks have gathered to sit in front of our neighbours home to chat and all enjoy the calm afternoon. Today is Sunday, the only day that the campesinos take off from going to tend to their crops and gives La Union a livelier feel. A few munchkins have wandered in our open door and come to see what is all that exciting in our little office space that would keep me there on a sunday. One hops onto my lap and others look around at the various objects they will only find in our house......files, portable CD player hooked up to mini-speakers, a little plastic lizard, tape, the deflated soccer balls in the corner. Their feet are naked of dress besides the glistening goo of mud and their clothes are joyfully marked with evidence of their exploration of life.

The one on my lap, Ander, has a little mop-top of black hair, big eyes and a always present smile. He smells of play, a distinct smell i have come to connect with the kids of LU when they have played hard for the entire day, combining the aromas of the elements mixed with a shake of their own essence. I often smell like this when their little feet and hands clamber all over me and encourage me to throw them in the air, spin them around or flip them upsidedown.....its a smell that makes me grin. After conversing a bit with them and lending out a colourful foam map of Colombia and all the departments which they take out to our front porch, i refocus on the flat screen computer that sits in front of me and keep typing.

I sip up the last drops of my experience living as a human rights accompanier in the Peace Community in the mountains of Colombia. I sip with much awareness and keeping the sweetness of it rolling around on my tongue wanting to savor it as much as I can. Always knowing that I will have to be leaving, it still doesn't make it easier to leave once the time arrives. I will be saying my farewells in these next days, to the place that has been my home for the past year, to the community of people that have been so gracious to share their lives with me and show me life as they experience it, they have been my family here. This year has been abundant in lessons and growth in all aspects of my being, and for this i am grateful. I will be physically saying goodbye to the Peace Community, but knowing that the seeds have just but been planted and that over the lifetime, I will continue to taste the lessons of the fruit of my time here. I am so thankful for having the privilege of being here, and am excited to see what other plants and seeds will in turn be produced.

"Gracias a Dios" (Thankyou to God/Goddess) my time here has been relatively quiet compared to the horror of massacres and dark days filled of fear that have taken place here through time, but then still much has happened on subtler levels than obvious slayings. The stage is being set for an unknown that the universe holds for the lives of the campesinos. While I've been here, thousands of paramilitaries have 'demobilized', the unearthing of the paramilitary and the political ties have exploded all over the medai, groups of demobilized paramilitaries have reformed, the endless threats towards the community persist by the paramilitaries and the military, the presence of the police and military nearby loom as a constant reminder that the campesinos do not live in the place of peace they dream of, the shadows of the guerrilla pass off in the mountains, the news of the various people having been killed all over the country continue to flood the news, the forced displacement of people persist, the bringing to light the connections the Uribe (the current president) has with paramilitary groups, our Bogota office being broken into, the killing of a community member in town (for more info on any of these, go to

www.forcolobmia.org) ....all this amidst the need to surrender to the cycles of ´pachamama´ (mother nature) . The swelling rivers rise and fall with the rain that is gifted to the land, the tending and gathering of crops, washing clothes, preparing food, collecting fire wood and catching up with friends and family in the community. Babies keep being born into the lives that the community has created, families growing.....a sign that they continue to burn their flame of hope strong and that peace will one day return to their land, and this fire will burn so strongly that no fear, spite or hatred will be able to enter.

i spent a good week preparing cards for folks of the community, taking pictures, going around handing them out and saying my 'until next time's`. I reasured them all that i would not forget about them (¿¿how could one forget an experience as this??) and that i would return as soon as i could, but that could take up to 5 years. Everyone was quick to laugh and say that was and endless amount of time away. It was an amount of time too far into the future....for their lives are lived day to day, with the uncertainty of the unexpected around every setting of the moon, never knowing when will be their last day. But after hearing 5 years for a while, they got used to the idea that i would come back and then i could continue with saying goodbyes.

It was also incredibly difficult to say farewell to my two team mates and dear friends AJ and Mayra who have shared life with me in La Union. But I also know it will be easier to see them in North America relatively soon....and look very much forward to that!

I ended up leaving La Union at the beginning of June and have been spending the past 3 weeks traveling around Colombia with a friend (Avairy) from the Kootenays as a bit of a transition period before diving back into the fast paced culture i left behind in Canada. It has been really wonderful to get to know Colombia in a different context outside of work and the Peace Community.

One thing i did notice onour travels, was that the journey that we chose to take allowed us to be tourist in a country that has been in civil for 50 years, yet we could have easily thougth that not a thing was going on at all. Even as we bumped along the winding roads on the mountains the only evidence we could see of any fighting was some military at check points or littered along the road. Everyone was unbelievably kind and generous throughout every place we had the chace to visit., very warming to the heart and spirit. So much pain and suffering as a country, yet such joyful souls. The biodiversity and cultural diversity in Colombia is so rich it bubbles up out of every pebble, it is a jewel of a country that provided amples of times to be in awe, wonder and singing in my heart.

i find myself at counting but 3 nights left in Bogota, and then i will be whisked away in a metal tube with unflappable wings across Turtle island, following the north star until i get to Victoria to be greeted by the loving arms of my beautiful parents. I then spend almost two weeks there and attend the excitement of the Under 20 World Cup soccer and catch up with family and friends. I am most excited to see folks again, to catch up, and share adventures. If you will be in West side of Canada....let me know and we can have tea!!!! (best way to contact me would be email).

Thank you to you all that have supported me thoughout my year here in colombia. its hard to believe that its already time to wrap up this chapter of my life, and commence another..... I have deeply appreciated all the love, prayers and support that have allowed me to have this experience. I look forward to sharing it in more depth and in person when i return home.

sweet bee nectar glisening in the suns kiss and the delicious smell of freshly cut wet grass

a flow

with Silence, she carried clarity,
Her unspoken presence fills the room with light as she enters and chases away the darkness
A cascade of a noiseless waterfall calling out in a loving embrace
Kissing you with a soft whisper that breaks the chains of your prison

The days when time's great forests filled the valleys are dwindling,
now is the time we chose to forgot to see her relationship with the wind, the rain and the fire.

We were are thrown into an eddy in the swift flowing river of life and have become stagnant in our own collective destructive thoughts…

What dimension are we inviting to come upon us??
when the dwindling waters are poisoned and the last flower takes her breath we will be left with the raw knowledge of our ancestors….
Do we have the ability to access that with all the hate that is darkening our vision and hardening our hearts?

The cycles are saying that it is the hour that we change the lens of yesterday and replace it with a new lens that allows us to see through the world of illusion we have created.
To release the cold dead ash of restricted thought of that which we hold on to so tightly in fear of the limitless potential we contain.

Fill our veins with kindness to heal the wounds of our brothers and sisters
pain and suffering knows no borders,
it leaks out and stains the flesh of that which it surrounds
let us put an end to the cycle of the same wounds from opening with the same dagger,
simply held by a different hand…..but in the hearts all hold fear, anger and hatred.

Our pain is the sickness of humankind.
This will only end when we learn to heal ourselves.
We are sick, for we have no knowing of ourselves or the part we play in life.
We stand alone……alone and very afraid.


The freedom of fluidity is to look at oneself and see that we contain all that we could ever desire.
Fluidity is not what you do but how you do it, a state of mind.
To break rigidity may cause pain, but to retain it "is" pain.
Fluidity resists not, nor does it pain.

What would this would be if we all exploded out of our tightly bound buds??
Can we release our desire to suffer?
Only fear needs to hold onto things and name it "home"…a place of habit, safety and comfort.
When will we chose to breathe beauty rather than set a raging fire to all that is unknown and feared.

Humankind is not tree…..this is not our path…
We need to break free from our shell and swim in the Universe of that which 'IS'
Unscrambling what we have created and taste the truth.
See the perfection in every moment….
In every blade of grass, of every snail, of every hibernating seed, of the lowly moss to the greatest tree,

THIS MOMENT IS PERFECT……
Know it
Become it
Live it

Embrace your truth
Dance to the music in your being
Follow the star in your heart that is so perfectly positioned
Listen to the collective human song, but don't be afraid to sing your own song.
Dissolve the concept of separation
Learn to accept the fruit which is always an offer to you
Receive it with love and humility.
Look at the reflection of your light and allow that to spill out onto the earth

Your presence here is welcomed
Find your place in the family of things
We are not separate in consciousness, just individual
Explore your inner dimension.

Stretch your imagination
Disturb the slumbering Self within
Let go and fall into the river of life…let it sweep you beyond all aid from old and worn concepts
Chose to cease walking alone and alienated from the abundance of energy that surrounds you
Trust
Blindly take the hand of higher consciousness that lies beyond our physical world

Open your arms to the Spirit of Change.
Listen to your dreams.
Go places you never thought possible to visit
Soar with the Eagle on higher thermals
Carry your dream, your vision
Absorb the new perspective
Any pattern of thought which knows not the freedom of space will become a burden
Be aware of your own flight path
Let the winds of change be ever fresh on your face.

See your inner colours change as the patterns of your inner Self dance to the new rhythm of life.
Blend your notes to the song of the Universe
Rejoice
Be aware of the life beyond that which you are
Every leaf bursts with the hidden energy of spring.

Our five senses are both the freedom of our expression and the walls of our prison.
Create through the power of visualization
Dare to imagine there is more beyond the known boundaries.
Sip from the sweet nectar of wisdom that silence embodies
Discover the secret that is hidden behind the veils of ego and the concept of separation

Unleash the flower of words that moves from beyond your barriers

Mortality, but a single moment in infinity.
Truth is infinite
Human minds can span infinitely to know the pulse of the Universal Oneness
We are echoes of each other
Instead of resisting the bombarding echoes,
Reclaim your voice and create a symphony
Melt your ironclad belief system of how the world works

Enter this time of change as a container of spiritual energy.
We are vibrations of the energies of the design of life
Only the container is physical and limited to what our minds impose upon it
We are but reflections of what we hold within our soft beings
Help the universe unfold, share it, feel it, connect with it

We are all united in Spirit
Go in Peace into the clutching fingers of the unknown
Drink from the forgotten pool of our ancient past
Recognize the symbols that you encounter on your path
Dream not with your head, but with your heart
Allow the ancient lineage to be undusted and intertwine it with the present and future
Time is the weaver of the illusion humankind believes is life.

Buttons woven onto the fabric of life

Visit the flowers with curiosity
Taste the delicate juice it offers to honor your visit
Collect them with gratitude
Weave these colourful buttons onto the fabric of life you wear
Redistribute it to others you encounter on your journey
Link the present and your dreams with your past.
Allow the dust of your footprints to settle behind you and change that which was

The cavern of the inner journey will extend beyond the physical confines of your mind
Allow them to continue.
Rest during times of stillness and know that stillness continues to carry the seed of change
Honor the times of hibernation
Do not force that which is not ready to emerge
All things have their time
Welcome Patience to flourish

Test the strength of your newly found wings
Throw your physical body from the inviting cliffs
Learn to soar on your inner thermals
Let your mind be carried on the safe wings of wisdom onto the higher rarer thermals.

Accept the neglected gift offered to us
All will benefit as each individual finds and reaches beyond their inner freedom
Reach in,
Reach out,
And fly my friend….fly

Leave behind all your mental burdens
Acknowledge and greet the emotion and conscious intelligence of the plant and animal world as you release your struggle of survival and enter a different level
Drop your resistance and allow the breeze to move through you
Allow the inner energy of the stream pour through your inner being and purify your being

Divine timing
The time has arrived
Welcome it
Take my hand
We will jump together
Physical separation only invites the opportunity to connect on a different level
We will meet there whenever we want without the constraints physical bodies hold

Do not be drawn into old thought patterns
Relax into this new movement
Do not doubt your experience
Plant your seeds carefully and with intention
For what you plant will quickly provide its fruit
Observe the differences, but most importantly the similarities
Link the subtleties and unconscious memories
Allow long forgotten connections to resurface on the wind
Prepare for a giant leap

Don't forget to breathe…
This is a majikal journey and it is awaiting your arrival
Grace it with your presence.

dry spells

I have just returned from accompanying the health promoter (now down to one) who will be partaking in the 2nd training. News from the area near where she is training (Cacarica) is that there is a dry spell currently with which brings much diarrhea and lack of water. Already many children have died of dehydration as the rehydration liquids are not accessible to them. It´s such a reminder how lucky we are to have water in La Union.

Well, the little microscopic friends that are so common here have once again made their presence known. My two teammates have both had some pretty rough encounters with the little fellas, I have luckily been spared but it seems to be a bit of a trend currently. Other folks are getting the same icky sickness, not much to be done besides rehydration fluids (which are more easily accessible for us) and resting up.

A slew of folks from Portugal have just arrived to the Peace Community, amidst them, a nurse, a doctor and engineers. They will be setting up a water purifying station, put up solar panels to provide their own electricity for La Holandita and build a small health clinic. All this along with the preparations for the 10th anniversary this 23rd of March…its all really quite exciting.

health promoter voyage

Like the six fingered man from Princes Bride so wisely said, “if you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything”. ………..health…… here in the community it seems that sickness is a much more accepted part of life than in Canada; fever, malaria, diarrhea, headaches, machete cuts, body aches, strange little bites from microscopic insects… they seem to come into people’s lives and people accept it without blaming the world. Since the nuns (who were accompanying La Union) left a more than a year ago, we have become the place to be visited when folks are hurting for some sort of pain killer or a band aid.

Because of where we live, it’s a 1.5 hour walk down the mountain and then a 30 min jeep ride to get to town to seek medical attention and costs 3.50$ round trip . Even before the ‘ruptura’ (the breach of speaking or having anything to do with the state since the Feb 05 massacre leading to the imposing of the police post in San Jose. Also for the complete impunity of all the crimes committed against the community, they’ve decided not to have any ties with the state until the state begins persecuting those responsible for abusing and killing the community…this they call ruptura), folks from La Union had to walk the 1.5 hours down to San Jose where there is a small clinic limited in services it could provide. For those folks that are too ill to walk down, ride down on a horse and if they have no strength to be able to stay on a horse, they are carried down by a group of men in a hammock. Most folks go down to Apartado if they are way too sick to work and need to see someone.

However, there is a doctor known as Dr. Alan Wands, an American who has been working in the Choco (department next to Antioquilla where we live) teaching the people from their own communities how to be health promoters. This is a much more sustainable method than the ‘Doctors Without Borders’ (DWB) method; entering into an area with all the doctors and free medicine for 3 years. When they do this, all the local doctors are no longer visited, so end up leaving or stop practicing and the small local pharmacies go out of business as everyone is receiving the free drugs from the DWB. When the doctors end up pulling out after their 3 years, the community is left high and dry with less structure than they had before to be able to now deal with those that get sick. However, the DWB presence is amazing for disaster zones and relief work but for any sustainable model they are detrimental.

So Dr. Wands has been encouraging the community for some time to send some of their members to a training lasting 3 years, of about a week every month or two where they learn the skills and are given minimal drugs to sell at cost to their community. This is an amazing program that is built on the model of lasting….its really very exciting and we (those of us with FOR) were incredibly thrilled that this year the Peace Community would be sending two womyn to participate in the training, one from La Union and one from La Holandita….and we would have the opportunity to accompany them to their training.

Janice (my teammate) and I departed from La Union to La Holandita where we met up with the two health-to-be-promoters. It was a bit of a tardy departure just as the sun was setting. We sat on the top of the chiva (jeep) trying to dodge the bugs that smacked into our face as we sped along the dirt road to Apartadó. We then headed in a small minibus to Turbo, the port town right on the gulf of Uraba where the following morning we would take the boat up the windy Atrato River to Rio Sucio where they would be having their training.
We stayed in a hotel, for one of them it was the first time staying in a hotel.

We awoke at 0630 to have enough time to get to the wafle (where all the boats leave from) and join the crowd that had gathered around the little window where we needed to make our reservations and pay for our ride. Despite the time, the sun had already made a noticeable presence and I was happy to find some shade. As I waited, I peered out onto the ports watery surface, littered with floating garbage mostly plastic types atop of the black coloured water. The stench was potent of all sorts of sewage water that had made its way to the port. I looked out at the little stands selling fish and was relieved that I am a vegan.

Only 1.5 hours after we thought the boat was to leave, we got our bags searched by a burly policeman before stuffing them into big plastic bags to protect them from the spray. We squished into the narrow panga (little boat) and strapped on our orange and blue lifejackets. We were off, leaving a cloud of blue exhaust behind us as we exited the port. About 5 minutes out we arrived at the police check point where our driver handed over a paper listing all our names and ID numbers. We were quickly waved through and crossed the surprisingly calm gulf to the mouth of the Atrato. We passed the little colourful houses of the Afro Colombian population that made their living off of fishing from the waters. Much to our surprise, 20 minutes into our ride the panga slowed again and docked at a little riverside restaurant. Everyone jumped out. We were told it was a fish breakfast stop…we couldn´t help but chuckle and patiently wait.

When everyone had their fill of fish, we continued our journey up the river. The vegetation hugged the banks, the wind tugged at our hair and the sun beating overhead made me regret forgetting a hat. We were now in el Choco, the municipalities with the largest Afro Colombian population, has the biggest enter and exit of arms and drugs from Colombia and is exceptionally challenging to travel in (most travel is done by river). The man sitting behind me told me about the film he was to make about the Indigenous community that cuts down wood and then floats down the tributary rivers on the logs with their families to the place they would be sold. He also pointed out the tree that is harvested in order to print money.

I drifted in and out of sleep wishing I had a hat feeling the sun crisping my face…my nose turn a deeper shade of red despite applying a thick coat of SPF 50. We followed the river curling along the Choco floor where the river had chosen its current yet ever-changing path. After 2.5 hours, we arrived to Rio Sucio.

Rio Sucio, the community of 19,000 Afro Colombians that have all been displaced from elsewhere and now found themselves in Rio Sucio. We pilled out of the panga onto the collection of boards acting as the dock and were welcomed by a smiling Dr. Wands. I noticed the latrines that were floating on the shore…emptying right into the water. Next to these womyn were busy washing their dishes and next to them little people jumping into the water….. hmmmm.

He led us along the sand road lined with houses perched up on stilts. He told us that usually every year the river would swell and usually always enter the houses of Rio Sucio even if they were raised off the ground. At which point folks would build provisional shelves in their houses up above the water, planks leading from room to room and live their lives above their new uninvited guest. The roads transformed into single planks leading to another plank from house to house, the entire city temporarily (sometimes up to 3 months) transformed into a mini variation of Venice. Wands said that meeting someone along the plank was always a bit tricky and not uncommon that folks would fall in. There were deaths every year due to drowning, yet folks seemed to adapt rather nonchalantly to the watery invader.

We arrived to where the health promoter classes would be held, it was a fairly new building still with the smell of paint clinging to the walls. There were shelves filled with colourful anatomy books, charts and plastic models of various body parts. We were the first to arrive of the 18 others coming from a variety of different communities. We left the two womyn there, wished them well for their week of training and headed off with Wands through the town dodging motocycles that would zip by. Dr. Wands informed us that there were no vehicles in the town but folks sure did like their motorcycles. We then thanked Dr. Wands, hopped into a chiva (jeep) and began our 6 hour bumpy dusty ride back to Turbo…..content that the community health promoters were on their way to be trained and soon would be providing healthcare to their friends and family.

existing

Well, here I am again.....looking at my blog entries and I feel a bit sheepish…hehehe. I keep wanting to write, then feeling so overwhelmed that so much has happened since the last and lonely time I have entered something….unsure of what to write, so much I want to share yet not wanting to write everything all at the same time….i end up not writing anything at all….hmmm not very productive in sharing my experience. So today it is time to at least let folks know I am still alive and slowly begin to catch up on some of the much that has been going on. It has been quite busy that it has been challenging to find time to write up what´s been happening but in the next few days I will find time to do so.

I will just like to say real quick that there has been 69 soldiers that are under investigation for the February 2005 massacre of 8 members of the Peace Community including 3 children. It is amazing that some actions have been taken as the impunity in Colombia dominates all cases of human rights violations. Perhaps on the way towards some sort of accountability.

this is me on my birthday in Bogota....it is meant to be my profile photo but at the moment i am having some technical difficulties...so it will be here right now....

Snotty-Nosed Treasure Seekers

We were on our back porch busy shelling toasted cacao beans to prepare them to be passed through the hand grinder and come out a rich, creamy goo of pure cacao (will write about this process another time when we were visited by two dirty barefooted munchkins that had just returned from a two week visit at their Grandparents house in Medellin. One was straddling a stick that was really his cow, the other pulling a plastic truck on a yellow leash of 'cabouilla' (cabouilla is the campo equal to duct tape...it seems to be able to fix everything, it's plastic string)

They played with us for a bit, climbing all over us, but were mostly interested in tasting the raisins in my oatmeal. Once those were all gone, their attention veered to Aj and her bag of granola with dried fruit which she dropped in pinches into their eagerly awaiting little hands. When the bag was empty, and they were tired of helping us shell cacao, they developed an overwhelming interest to getting down on all fours and peering through the cracks of our planked floor. Our house sits above a gravel space big enough for little beings to crawl underneath. Because the boards don’t fit together perfectly, the cracks become a patient black hole to any fallen articles that are slim enough to fit through the cracks….and let me tell you we have lost many a things to our hungry underhouse. These floor spaces are also very convenient when we sweep because most of the dust we accumulate gets swept into the cracks before we can sweep it out the door.

Bums in the air and eyes pressed to the floor cracks, these two treasure seekers got more and more excited as they kept spotting things nesstled in the dust below the house. Faster than you can say ‘roasting plantanes’, they were down in our garden and beside our house to the place where they could squeeze through some rocks and crawl under our house. I’ve never been below the house, but with all the horse, cow, chicken poop and dried mud that people bring in stuck to their gumboots and sandals that fall between the cracks, it is not really the first place I would want to be crawling around in.

As they inched their little bodies between the earth and wood, they would scream our names as they discovered a treasure and push it up through the cracks. They found such treasures as colourful tacks, a water tap, a map of the Medellin metro, pens and pen lids.
Their little smiling faces peeked out from below the house, noses running with snot and a smile stretched ear to ear.

majikal tummy pat

Mid day, Aj and i were busy working on some documents, each on our lap tops when we heard a small knock on the door to see a face peer in the cracks of our wooden beams. It was the oldest habitant of the community, a sweet little lady of 83ish years that lives just up the way from us. She has a smile that she is eager to share and a sparkle in her eyes that squint when she shares it (her smile that is). It was a pleasant surprise to see her at our front door as usually we are not blessed to be visited by her, but rather go and see her at her home.

She was wearing a green skirt that hung down to her ankles. Her feet rested in dilapidated blue sandals that had long molded to the shape of her feet. The straps broken and her toes spilling over the side. Those were feet that had seen much pain and suffering, had support her throughout the years that she lived in el campo. She was the loving mother of 12 children, giving birth to all of them yet only a single of them is still alive. Unfortunately he lives in another town, which she always is excited to go and visit him.

She had come to see if we had any lemon grass we could give her as both her and her partner were coming down with colds and wanted to make some herbal tea. We have three incredibly massive bushels of lemon grass so gladly gifted her some for tea and to plant in her yard. She also excitedly eyed our wilding cherry tomato plants and the bright red juicy tomatoes that hung on the dried vines. We offered her a dried totume (like a calabash) to put the fresh deliciousness into and helped her collect them all so she could make a sancocho (boiled collection of ingredients).

Before she left, she looked Aj and I up and down with that sparkle of love in her eye and habitual smile resting on her lips, and commented on how incredible it was that for the two of us not consumers of meat, now we manage to still be so fat (folks here are very open with their thoughts and observations, and shared with much love).

With one had occupied with holding lemongrass and a totume full of tomatoes, with her free hand she proceeded to tap each of our bellies. Not just once or twice, but about a good 5 or 6 times each of a feeling our fleshy stomachs. Aj and I could absolutely not contain our laughter (which made our tummies giggle even more) as she switched back and forth of gleefully tapping our bellies. We were sure that if she had both hands free, each one would be on either tummy feeling loving the giggilyness of us.

After she had had enough of the tummy pat, she gave us another smile, we kissd her on the cheek and she was on her way to prepare her tomatoes and lemongrass tea.

It was the best thing that happened to us that day.
I hope there will be more magical belly tapping.

Ant Invasion

I had decided to clean the house today. It was our house made out of brick, the one that used to be the old medical center for La Union but has since been transformed into the first FOR house. It used to be our only house but when the team grew to 3 people in 2004, there wasn’t enough room for them all. For this reason a wooden house was built across the ‘way’ where the shrunken team of 2 now spend most of our time. The brick house does tempt us to spend time in it because of the kitchen within its walls. It also acts as our guest house, not only for our human guests but we have a few bats that use the house as a hangout. Among them, we have a resident rat that has a superfluous amount of food munching on our fruit or tearing into bags and transporting them to places we get to discover much later. Our rat shares its/our food supply with the countless cockroaches and ants that also find shelter in the old medical center. Bats have also found cracks to squeeze into between the roof and the wall (we can always tell they have been there by the poop that is left behind after their evening dinning). And last but not least are our smelliest of them all……massive toads that we don’t often see but that leave most intoxicating tang of feces and urine puddles.

This was the day that I felt the urge to sweep the cement floor as the bat poop and dried mud quickly dirtied the floor. As I was sweeping with the broom I had made out of a dried Iraka leaves (similar to that of a palm leaves), I apparently agitated the ants that had made a home in our wall. It wasn’t until later in the evening when AJ was about to make some dinner, when she entered the kitchen and felt the unfamiliar tickly of dozens of speedy little six legged black ant friends that were madly crawling over her sandled feet and making their way up her bare legs. She moved quickly got out of their range and directed her attention to the massive invasion of black ants that had completely taken over that part of our kitchen. They streamed in through our 4 windows, tracing paths along the wall to our dishes, onto our counters, weaving their way around or over our vegetables, sink and water tank. They covered the counters and floors making all surfaces seem fluid as mini-high ways were created to get them most effectively carry their eggs to their destination.

This being the first time that we were visited by so many ants, we were a bit of a loss of what to do about them and unsure if this was a usual thing that occurred. We went outside and called over two young chaps and asked them if what they could make of this situation. They confidently marched into the kitchen with their gumboots on, and enthusiastically began using our tutume (like a dried calabash that we use to scoop out water from our water tank) to then make an aquatic kitchen by splashing water all over the walls, counters and floor. The slippery concrete was not quite the surface our guests wanted to be trying to find a place to hid their eggs. So over a while they began to disappear and find shelter in the cracks and crevices of our house and of the outdoors.

We thanked the two chaps that were so kind to help us out. They said that this is not something that is unusual, but that they sometimes go into houses and eat your clothes. We were happy to not have them in our rooms, munching away at our clothes and decided it would be better to wait until morning before trying to cook something.

Police Civilan Mixing

We were coming back from a usually exhausting day in Apartado. No matter how much we have to do in town, we always end up spending the entire day in the dusty, uncomfortable and overheated city. The only thing we like about going there, is that we can check our mail box, have access to faster internet, get malaria tests done, buy some groceries and find some cold freshly made juices. There is nothing that we really enjoy about going down on the average of 6 hour journey to go there and back to get groceries but it gives us a bit of a break from being isolated up in the community.

We were sweaty and had just walked the 1.5 km along the road from the displaced community of San Josecito. This displacement occurred in the aftermath of the Feburary 2005 massacre of 8 community members including 3 children and one of the founding members of the PC. The community is convinced that it was the military that execute the massacre so when the government decided they needed to protect the PC and they would do this by putting a Police post in town of San Jose where most of the habitants were Peace Community members. To stay devout to not supporting any armed group, having police with arms posted in their community was against everything they stood for, so they displaced. Every family but a handful collected their life, locked up their houses and walked the 1.5km to the plot of land that Holland had gifted them. There they erected makeshift shacks and dug some trenches for their plumbing. Many families were crammed into these shacks, there was malaria epidemics and the conditions were that of a displacement camp. Despite this, the community was solid in their solidarity and worked laboriously together to create their new community. That was 21 months ago, now everyone has a wooden home that many have decorated with flowers growing out of old cooking oil containers that hang from their front wall, or a small collection of flowers in front of their houses that have managed to evade being eaten by passing horses, pigs and chickens.

San Josecito, also called La Holandita (in thanks to the country that gifted the land to them), is accompanied semi-permanently by Peace Brigades International (PBI), whereas we as FOR stay up in La Union.

We jumped off the chiva (jeep-like vehicle that transport folks to and from San Jose to Apartado) and changed from our sandals into our boots for our hike through San Jose and up to La Union.

The town of San Jose has repopulated itself, but non living there are part of the Peace Community. All the PC members houses still stand empty, boarded up hoping that one day the police post would leave and they can return. It’s a bit ridiculous that there are more police present there than civilians.

We passed by the basketball court in San Jose where at half court, the Police have built a shelter and a few of them come down from their post up on the top of the hill to occupy during the day. As we passed by, we were horrified to see a police officer dressed in his uniform (that looks equal to that of military except the police’s are solid green and that of the military is camouflage). However the police still have a big guns slung over their shoulders. This young police was on the basket ball court playing volleyball with some of the children from San Jose, his weapon hanging loosely over his shoulder as he tossed the ball to the eager children.
Disgusted, we walked on. This was exactly why the PC would not support having armed actors in their community because once one side is present with weapons living amongst civilians. The other armed groups then accuse the civilians of supporting the group that they are living by the other groups that they are helping one side, making them targets

As we were passing the creek at the beginning of the windy path up to La Union, we passed some soldiers that were busy brushing their teeth and bathing in the creek. Once the police post was put into San Jose, the military took full advantage of having some more ground and use just outside of San Jose as a base before going up into the mountains.

The rest of our hike was vacant of armed actors, however we were accompanied by the voices of the cicadas and the grasshoppers.

Christs Celebrated day of brith in La Union

Amanda and I were asked to stay in La Union for 2 weeks during the holidays because the community was feeling particularly scared as the usual string to threats that they receive, had in the past weeks dwindled down to being nonexistent. Interesting how in a conflict zone when things are calm, it is a time of great preoccupation as a quiet yet awake angry dog is always more worrisome than a barking dog. So the level of tension within PC members was being pulled tighter, even the police were concerned about the National level of quiet from all the armed groups. We crossed our fingers that it would continue quiet with no unfortunate events.

Being away from home without the traditional gathering of family and friends, the usual snow-playing events (that apparently was not present for many parts of North America), the strength of the heat as we lay in our hammocks with sweat forming on our faces…it was just different and during the time of the holidays, feelings-positive or negative- always seem to be magnified in a crazy way. So here we were, feeling particularly…well the only word that seems to capture our sentiments is ‘BLICK’. This was soon interrupted by the blasting of the Vallenato music (the local type of music that is a mixture of ranchero and mariachi accompanied by an accordian) that was emanating from the usually empty brick building that stood across the ‘way’ (‘way’ because it’s not a street but more than a path) from our house. The local DJ was busy hooking up the music system and ensuring that the sound quality was just perfect. To do this, apparently it was necessary for him to begin blasting a rotation of the same 20 songs a 10:00. Even if one chose not to be showered with this music, it was inevitable because it reverberated throughout the small community.

Friends and family of many of the PC had arrived in the past few days to spend some time away from their lives in the cities to be in el campo with their family. It was wonderful to see new faces and meet the children and grandchildren of those we hear the community so often talk about. There was much sharing of food and visiting.

During festivities, depending on the grandeur of the celebration, an animal is killed and a sancocho (a stew of sorts composed of boiled meat and yucca and plantanes) is created. Today the community had killed a pig and in a house in the school yard a group of womyn were busy all day preparing the meat. A cloud of potent smoke rose from the roasting meat over the open fire, the stench of slaughtered pig was heavy in the air, sickening, torturing our noses with its death…the smoke laughing at the shades of colour our faces were turning.
This thick smoke settled over us and we bathed in the smell of cooking flesh, vallenato music and ‘blickness’.

As the evening approached, the community kids flocked to the Nun’s (who accompanied the La Union for years, but left 2 years ago) house where they had been gathering for a week every evening. Two of the youth back for the holidays had built a ‘Peservre’ and the little people of the La Union would sing songs and listen to prayers. Tonight was the last night, and we watched just a smidgen of it before being invited to enjoy some beans, yucca and rice at one of the Leaders house. They seemed to be feeding half the community, folks coming in, sitting down at the table in front of the little plastic Christmas tree and TV (showing the evening News), would eat and leave in less than 10 minutes before the next wave of people awaiting at the door flowed in to fill their bellies.

Folks prepared themselves for the dance by either put on their washed dancing boots (gumboots) or those that preferred to enjoy watching others dance found a convenient place to observe the dancers through the bared windows or on chairs. AJ and I put on our brow shirts and Santa hats and headed across the ‘way’ to the bubbling dance. The small room was filled with couples dancing and others sitting on plastic lawn chairs. The smell of copious amounts of cologne, perfume and sweat also swirled around the dancers.

Aj was immediately pulled onto the dance floor by a young non-traditionalist dancer. They bounced and jumped all around the other dancers as those sitting in chairs watching smiled and laughed at the enthusiastic pair. I was asked to dance the traditional way, pressed to my partner, his sweat mixing with mine as our shirts soaked up each others sweat. My hands on his shoulders, his on my lower back as I looked down at my little dance partner, my knees in very precarious position as I try my best to not lift it too high and put him in more pain than a dance should be. We hardly moved as he naturally giggled his hips in a way that I did not think humanly possible and turned me in a shuffle to the left and to the right. I awkwardly and ineffectively trying to copy the hip giggle and not step on his boots, it was great. We shuffled in little circles, never making eye contact as we shared this sexual hip-dance. Despite the intimacy bodies shared on the dance floor, as soon as the song finished, couples promptly separate without looking at each other nor muttering a word and tried to squish through the one door. It is quite amusing to watch them dance and I couldn’t help but smile. Even though their bodies are engaged in a very intimate activity, the looks upon their faces appear that they could be washing the floor with a toothbrush and still show the same amount of emotion. AJ and I were apparently the only ones that thought it was hilarious that they would play the same song three times in a row.

After a while, sweat was pouring off of everyone and I had had enough of trying to manouver my hips in a way that is foreign to them so AJ and I retreated to our house. We lay in our hammocks and popped in the end of The Davici Code and the beginning of Monty Python’s ‘The Holy Grail’ as we hid under sheets from the mosquitos and tried to hear the movies over the blaring music. The music continued to 08:00 the next morning, with a few endurance dancers going strong.

!Merry Merry Day!