CPTnet
20 December 2007
COLOMBIA REFLECTION: Ricuarte--shades of the conflict

by Sarah MacDonald

For two weeks, I have been living in Ricaurte, in the southwestern province
of Nariño. My teammate and I came to accompany an indigenous
organization, CAMAWARI (Council of Elders of the Awa of Ricaurte)--Ricaurte
being an expansive municipality that includes eleven Awa reservations.
Ricaurte is also the name of the town that serves as "head" of the
municipality, and this town is home for six weeks to our two-person CPT
mobile team.

Before arriving, I had heard that Nariño, long a stronghold of guerrilla
forces and currently a focused target of national military operations, is
one of the deadliest zones in the Colombian conflict. I had read CAMAWARI
releases describing how Awa civilians have been assassinated by armed
actors, killed by landmines, or forced to displace and then not allowed to
return to their lands. Teammates carefully briefed me on security protocols
for living in here. So, I came expecting to find the situation risky and
tense.

What I'm experiencing, though, is more nuanced. Ricaurte is a sleepy little
town sloping upward from the highway. The few paved streets and central
plaza soon give way to dirt roads and half-hidden neighborhoods, then to
rainforested hillside and occasional shacks. High ridges encircle the town,
as if Ricaurte were nestled in a green bowl.

Perhaps because daily rains water the earth so well, the surrounding hills
glow a brilliant emerald. When I look at them, I think of Eden. There is a
certain edenic flavor to life here. Or maybe it's the small-town atmosphere
that lulls me into feeling that living in Ricaurte is gentle and safe.
Children play on our street; some now greet me by name. Chickens strut into
our yard; once, they came through our open front door. Neighbors bring us
gifts of food, then sit and chat for a while. The few times I've visited
nearby Awa reservations, I've found generous spirits and watched shy
demeanors break open in joking and laughter.

Most days, I can almost forget we're living in a war zone. Except that
conversations turn readily to the threats and incidents of violence all too
common here: tales of soldiers attacking travelers on the highway or
guerrillas burning vehicles, the report of a landmine victim brought into
the local hospital with both his feet blown off, warnings to stay out of
rural areas and to avoid traveling at night.

I feel a tension in trying to write about Ricaurte. How do I balance the
warmth and welcome with the dangers and griefs? I want to tell you about
the violence and human rights abuses--these tragedies are real and need to
be known in the wider world. But I also want you to see the view from my
window: children running to school, passers-by calling out greetings, Awa
people visiting in front of the CAMAWARI office. And in the distance, green
hills holding this whole scene, calling us to work and pray for a more just
and peaceful world.