The Bogotá Post visits rural communities in Colombia’s most forgotten corner and hears first-hand how armed groups continue to terrorise rural communities.
Sarah Lapidus
W
hen the Colombian government signed the 2016 peace agreement with
the FARC, many thought the conflict was over. But the FARC’s conversion from an
armed group to a political party has left a power vacuum in rural areas where
their guerrillas were once present.
Filling this gap are drug gangs, re-emerging guerrilla groups, and
shadowy armed groups. And, as in the past, these fighters are now targeting
civilians and small-scale farmers, often from both afro-Colombian and
indigenous communities.
Those who speak out are most at risk. According to the Defensora
del Pueblo, since the start of 2016, over 460 social leaders have been
assassinated.
So even as communities struggle to adapt to the post-conflict era,
and preserve the memories of the victims from decades of state conflict with
the FARC, new threats are on the rise.
Nowhere is this more apparent than Alto Guayabal, a village and
Emberá Katío indigenous reserve set in the rainforest of Chocó, Colombia’s
wildest and most westerly department.
“The conflict has
worsened. The ELN guerillas continue to commit crimes, assassinate and carry
out kidnappings. Also, the paramilitaries, like the AGC, are stronger than
ever. There has been little political effort, especially by our president, Iván
Duque,” 22-year-old local activist Larry Mosquera tells The Bogotá Post during
the second Festival de Memoria held in Alto Guayabal.
The annual festival is organised by the Inter-Church Justice and
Peace Commission (CIJP), a human rights nonprofit watchdog. The commission has
also assisted the Embera community to create a humanitarian zone where – in
theory – armed groups are banned. However, that ban is proving hard to enforce:
in the weeks before our visit the indigenous community had reported gangs with
guns terrorising villagers.
But even with these recent threats, the Festival de Memoria goes
ahead in Alto Guayabal, bringing together dozens of people from all sides of
the conflict – ex-military, ex-FARC, and civilian victims – to share their
stories.
A chance to speak out
Also present are delegates from Colombia’s Truth
Commission, whose role is to listen and gather victim’s stories. It is part of
the transitional justice agreement born from the FARC’s peace process with the
state.
Danilo Rueda, the national coordinator of the CIJP,
addresses attendees in the communal gathering hut: “The goal is for everyone to
recount what they have experienced and what they feel, without accusing
anyone,” he says. “This is about having a conversation, because we are
convinced that through dialogue we can construct a different country. Words
heal the soul.”
A Truth Commission delegate stands up to ask the
group, “not to judge others, but simply to understand what is happening in
society and how we were able to stop the war.”
The conflict victims we talk to are grateful for the
chance to tell their stories in front of the Truth Commission delegates, but
they also worry that as they look back at the old conflict, a new one is
emerging. For some it feels that the war never ended.
“For us, there is no peace,” says Jorge Eliezer,
sitting next to his partner in one of the communal huts. Armed men have
threatened to kill him.
“They killed my cow, took our food, and fumigated
our land,” he says. “And still, the government hasn’t kicked them out yet. They
haven’t fulfilled their promise of land redistribution. The businesses are
still there, and they look for intermediaries to enter [our territories] to rob
us.”
His story follows a narrative common in Colombia, according to
human rights groups, whereby people with business and commercial interests use
armed groups to threaten small-scale farming and indigenous communities, all
part of a plan to force them to give up their land or sell it at a low price.
In their effort to dislodge farmers from their properties, these
gangs will escalate their threats to murder and massacres. Fear of these
attacks can displace thousands of people and even whole communities.
The CIJP has documented dozens of these types of threats and
attacks. In fact the week following the Festival de Memoria, seven militia
entered the community in a failed attempt to murder indigenous Embera community
leader Bernado Zapilla. He was kidnapped and injured after being mistaken for
another community member. They were thought to be members of the Autodefensas
Gaitanistas de Colombia (AGC), one of the powerful armed groups that has grown
since the peace deal was signed.
Keep pushing for peace
Meanwhile, victims displaced by previous waves of
violence are still waiting for financial reparation and restitution of land
previously stolen.
Many barriers still exist to getting back to their
land, explains 16-year-old Diomedes Daveiba: “We want to return to where we
were living before, but we can’t return. There are too many mines. We want them
to clean up the mines on the roads, but there is no effort by the government.”
Meanwhile in the midst of continued conflict,
communities like Alto Guayabla keep pushing for peace, explains El
Espectador columnist Laura Mendoza, also taking part.
“In Colombia we talk about constructing peace. This
event is constructing peace. None of us work alone in supporting the process,
in raising awareness. There is a lot of work being done despite the continuous
violence,” she explains.
It’s a theme taken up by Larry Mosquera. Despite the
continued violence, assassinations and fear in the community, he underlines the
need to keep going.
“The situation is very sad, but in the rural
communities we continue to resist and fight for true and sustainable peace.”
The post Post-conflict: No peace in the Chocó appeared first on The Bogotá Post.
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