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.”