bioduels

My leaflet's ready at last

2009-05-26T15:37:00.006+01:00

Since getting back from Colombia, I've been working with people from Espacio-Bristol, Biofuelwatch and Platform to produce a leaflet about the effect that agrofuels and oil have on Colombia. The pages of the leaflet can been seen here, and the text is below. Email your address to verybod [at] hotmail . com and I can post you up to 50 copies.

WHAT AGROFUELS DO TO COLOMBIA

Introduction

Agrofuels or ‘biofuels’ are fuels made primarily from crops grown in large-scale monocultures. Since April 2008, all fuel at UK petrol stations is required by law to be mixed with 2.5% ‘biofuels’.

Agrofuels, far from being climate friendly, accelerate climate change because of deforestation and other ecosystem destruction and because they rely on agrichemicals linked to high greenhouse gas emissions. They also lead to hunger, and to farmers being forced off their land.

Colombia is one of the countries increasing its production of oil palm and sugar cane to meet agrofuel demand. As part of this expansion, trade unionists have been murdered and communities forced off their land at gunpoint by paramilitaries (illegal groups linked to the state).

This leaflet explains some of the social problems agrofuel expansion is causing in Colombia.

Individual

Victor makes £8 for an eight-hour day harvesting palm fruit from the tallest trees. Workers weeding around the palm trees may earn just 80p a day.

Harvesting is difficult and dangerous work. One 18 year-old boy died after working for fifteen days injecting palm trees with monocrotophos (an insecticide illegal in many countries) without any safety equipment.

Workers are forced to form fake cooperatives to work for the company, in which workers pay the costs of tools, social security, crop damage, etc. This means that workers, rather than the company, absorb all the economic risks. This system was first imposed by Colombia’s Indupalma company after a trade union was weakened by the murder of five of its members in 1995.

After meeting all these costs, Victor’s monthly take-home pay is under the minimum wage, but 40% more than he earned prior to a recent strike.

Community

The community of San Cayetano in the Bolivar region is an example of people going hungry because of oil palm.

Forty families had been farming land near their village for 20 years when an agent of a local palm company offered to buy them out. What he offered was under the market value for the land, but he included the threat, “If you do not leave the good way, you will be leaving the bad way”. Given the violent paramilitary presence in the area, people took this seriously and left their land. The last man to leave was seized by paramilitaries, but managed to escape.

That was three years ago. ‘Misery’ is the word they use to describe life since then. Unemployment is especially uncomfortable with eight children to feed and no state benefits. One meal a day has become normal in this community.

National

Currently 350,000 hectares of land in Colombia is used for oil palm production. With the huge rise in demand for agrofuels, the Colombian government is intending to increase the amount of land dedicated to both palm oil and sugar cane monocultures to seven million hectares. These plantations are linked to ecosystem destruction and to exploitative and inhumane working conditions.

As pressure on land intensifies, subsistence farmers are violently displaced. Once landless, the same people may return as poorly-paid workers for oil palm plantations on their former land. Meanwhile, local people are denied control of more and more land for growing food, and ecosystems are destroyed.

People from rural Colombia speak of their sadness and frustration at being surrounded by such fertile land, and yet seeing their food imported into the area. Much of Colombia’s rice, wheat and corn comes from the US and the EU where the agrofuels are exported to, leaving Colombia contributing to the energy needs of others while having less control over their food production.

Global

The EU is promoting the use of agrofuels, both through subsidising them in Europe and by directing foreign aid into the production of agrofuels in the Tropics. This is because the EU’s own agrofuel crops are insufficient to meet its energy needs.

Globally, food prices are going up, partially due to the rise in agrofuel monocultures. Changes in land use and increased demand for crops means that people’s food needs are now in competition with fuelling vehicles.

The violent expulsion of farmers and the destruction of forests to make way for palm plantations is not unique to Colombia. It is a global problem with similar situations occuring in Indonesia and other parts of the world. This has a major impact on climate change as more rainforests are cut down and peatland dried out. Even so-called ‘sustainable’ sources contribute to this effect by increasing the demand for land.

What you can do

A strong grassroots movement against agrofuels is needed. One with the power to stop the policies which are devastating communities and the environment in countries such as Colombia, and which are making climate change worse.

We also need a drastic reduction in our energy use, particularly car travel and aviation, as well as high mandatory fuel efficiency standards.

To organise a public meeting to educate people about agrofuels, contact info@biofuelwatch.org.uk for speakers and videos. Visit www.biofuelwatch.org.uk to sign up to action alerts and campaign news, and to take part in letter-writing campaigns. Discuss what you have learnt with your friends and family.

Espacio also invites volunteers to help with our work supporting communities and social organisations facing violence in the context of agrofuels and other damaging projects in Colombia. See www.espacio.org.uk to find out what you can do to support Colombians.

WHAT OIL DOES TO COLOMBIA

Introduction

Pretty much everything we consume involves the use of oil. As the more accessible oil fields dry up, others are explored with higher environmental and social costs.

Colombia, with its violent civil conflict, is one of the many countries where the social costs of the oil industry are high.

BP has been present in Casanare, Colombia since the 1980s. In 1996, BP was exposed in the British media for funding a Colombian army brigade notorious for human rights abuses and links with paramilitary death squads.

Although in the wake of the scandal BP signed up to non-binding Corporate Social Responsibility guidelines, people living on land strategic for oil exploration and activists protesting against the company’s activities continue to be murdered.

Individual

Oswaldo Vargas was one of the social leaders whose opposition to BP cost him his life. Oswaldo was involved in a demonstration against BP’s failure to comply with agreements made with the community regarding social investment.

Shortly afterwards, several members of ACDAINSO, the community organisation Oswaldo was part of, were threatened, including threats telling them to “stop messing with BP”. Then, on September 2nd 2004, when Oswaldo arrived home from a meeting with BP, two men shot him dead in front of his young son.

After further threats, two murders and one attempted murder of other community activists, members of ACDAINSO decided to close down the organisation.

The previous year Jorge Guzmán, who was responsible for BP’s community relations had stated that he was “tired of ACDAINSO”. This problem had now disappeared.

Community

Other oil companies in Casanare also benefit from the violent suppression of the local population.

The Colombian army’s 16th Brigade arrived in Recetor in December 2002. The following month paramilitaries (illegal groups linked to the state) entered the area and were seen meeting with soldiers.

In February the disappearances started. The paramilitaries collected people ‘for interviews’, but around sixty people never returned home. The climate of fear meant that many of these disappearances have not been reported, but two mass graves have been found.

With the town’s teacher, doctor, various students and community leaders disappeared, the social cohesion of the area was destroyed and it was unlikely that local residents would complain about poor employment and environmental standards.

Shortly afterwards, the Brazilian oil company Petrobras arrived in the area and began to explore for oil. Local paramilitary leader ‘Salomón’ has stated that these acts had the objective of clearing the way for oil exploration.

National

National paramilitary leader Salvatore Mancuso has stated to the Colombian prosecutor’s office that all the oil companies in Casanare made contributions to his group, the AUC (United Self-Defence Forces of Colombia). Some have been accused of complicity in human rights abuses, such as Occidental Petroleum and the Santo Domingo massacre.

Meanwhile, 47% of Colombia’s population live below the poverty line. Although the country is rich in many natural resources, the involvement of multinational corporations means that local people do not benefit. Instead they watch the wealth of their region being taken out of the country.

The move towards companies signing up to voluntary codes of conduct has been a move away from binding legislation. The oil industry has actively sought and obtained changes in Colombian legislation in order to make more profit with fewer social and environmental ------obligations.

Global

Colombia's case is by no means isolated. Similar abuses happen in other oil-rich countries, maximising company profits while fulfilling our demand for energy.

For example, through its Tangguh gas project, BP is underwriting Indonesia’s military occupation of West Papua - where a sixth of the population has been killed.

BP and other companies have been lobbying hard in Iraq and working with the US and UK forces to break into fields previously held in public ownership. Despite massive opposition and the likelihood of intensifying conflict, BP is in the process of signing a contract for development of the super-giant Rumaila field.

BP’s global operations have an enormous impact on driving climate change. The emissions resulting from the oil and gas the company extracts are equivalent to 5% of global greenhouse gases from fossil fuel consumption – twice that of the UK.

What you can do

Twin with a threatened activist or community member in Casanare through the Pen-Pal Protection Plan that Espacio is coordinating with the Colombian organisation COS-PACC. For more information see www.espacio.org.uk.

Help create safe spaces for sustainable alternatives by volunteering in Colombia. This provides protective accompaniment to those resisting the take over of their lands and resources by multinational corporations. See www.espacio.org.uk.

OTHER CAMPAIGNS:
Free West Papua: UK-based campaign led by exiled West Papuans, campaigning to stop Indonesia’s occupation of their country and BP's part in it. www.freewestpapua.org

Baku Ceyhan Campaign: Campaign highlighting the impacts of BP’s $4 billion pipeline through Azerbaijan, Georgia & Turkey, including escalated local conflict, corrosion and loss of livelihoods. www.baku.org.uk
Hands Off Iraqi Oil is a UK coalition opposing foreign exploitation of Iraq’s oil reserves. It uncovers UK government pressure backing BP’s demands for lucrative contracts.
www.handsoffiraqioil.org

Campaigns on BP involvement in Canadian tar sands - highly polluting fuels that emit 3-5 times the CO2 of crude oil.
www.greenpeace.org.uk/tags/tar-sands
www.oilsandstruth.org

PLATFORM campaigns on BP’s role in Iraq, tar sands, the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline and elsewhere.
www.carbonweb.org

Drummond coal kitchen workers' strike

2009-01-28T22:43:00.002Z

My friend is out in Colombia at the moment, blogging away. She's just been helping out at a strike of kitchen workers at a coal mine. Before the strike started (which they won two-year direct contracts from, but no improvements in wages or conditions as yet), she wrote this report about their lives, which I thought was very worth a read.

A rant about nationalism

2009-01-11T12:18:00.007Z

I'm just back, all fired up, from the counter-demo to the 'Support Israel' rally.

Part of me knew it would be a horrible confrontation, of people shouting and not listening, that mirrored the Israel-Palestine conflict in a depressing way. But I wanted to go because I wanted there to be a 'Jews for Justice for Palestinians' presence.

I wanted to show that not all Jews support Israel, especially not when it chooses to bomb densely populated areas and kill hundreds of human beings. I wanted people on the pro-Palestinian side to see this wasn't a Muslim-Jewish thing. And I also hoped to be able to challenge those that were supporting Israel, to spend a moment thinking about what they were actually supporting.

So I covered some cardboard with old flipchart paper, and made placards that said
"So you support shooting at ambulances?"
"You support using cluster bombs? Depleted uranium? White phosphorus?"
and "An eye for an eyelash?"

I hoped this might provoke some thought, though I was aware many people's responses would be
"Well, yes, when they are carrying terrorists"
"The IDF denied use of white phosphorus today"
and "Terrorism must be stopped"

If I ran the world, the counter demo would have been full of moral and challenging placards, and maybe we could have done a lot of dignified staring. It's not my world, and so I had to listen to all my least favourite chants until I couldn't stand any more nationalism and had to leave.

When I first arrived, I was pleased that 'our side' had a loudspeaker. I liked the sense of strength. And I liked not having to listen to any pro-Israel nationalism which I'm sure I would have found even more upsetting.

I understand that these chants serve a purpose. To make people feel unified and strong. To help release anger. And I could deconstruct the words of each one in a way I'm comfortable with.

"Stop the killing. Stop the hate. Israel is a terrorist state."

Well, if you define terrorist as 'deliberately targeting civilians to achieve objectives through fear', having been to Palestine, I would say that people's experiences definitely, definitely show that that is happening. Though the counter argument is that civilian casualties are merely collateral, and not deliberate like a suicide bomber's target. I'd say this shows an ignorance of the IDF's actual behaviour on the ground.

"Israel is a racist state."

Well, technically, it does have a fairly different set of laws for one ethnic group, so yep.

"From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free."

Palestinian citizens of 1948-Israel are second class citizens, and have a different set of laws that apply to them. Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza are stateless and occupied. I'd love them all to be free and live with equal rights to everyone else from the river to the sea. And if some of them want to refer to the land they are in as 'Palestine'. Fine. But god I HATE this chant. When I was more active in this issue, I heard a lot from Israelis "But they want to drive us into the sea. We are protecting ourselves. We have a right to be here." And I would say, "Honestly, go meet them. They don't think that. They just want justice and equal rights and then this can be a small blip on the thousands of years of history where Jews and Arabs have mostly peacefully coexisted (when you weren't nicking their land and trying to dominate them.)"

How much does that chant undermine my argument? I hate that chant enough when it's not directed at a 'Support Israel' audience. Why can't people think through the helpfulness of their actions?

But at the top of my 'Least Favourite Chants' countdown, is

"Down, down Israel."

Again, I can kinda get behind the concept, given I'd also like to tell Israel off for its naughty slaughtering behaviour. But I had a clear concept of how a big group of British Muslims with keffyahs worn as headbands chanting that, would appear to people who believed that Israel is under threat and needs supporting.

What use is nationalism? What use is identifying with one group of people, and deciding they are worth more or more deserving of life and security than any other group? I know it's a little clichéd, but really, can't the discourse focus on being pro-human rights and pro-justice rather than pro some nonsense nationalist identity, when we're all humans together?

One term I don't like though is 'pro peace'. The 'Support Israel' rally did get some points for its 'Peace for the people of Israel and Gaza' placards, but I question what peace is meant by the people actively supporting Gaza being bombed. My experience is that 'peace' for Israelis generally means 'You stop killing us, and we'll all be fine.'

New research shows that when Palestinians stop killing Israelis, that doesn't stop Palestinians from getting killed. And 'peace' for Palestinians is not about an absence of fighting. For Gazans it has been about ending the blockade, and it's also about getting justice for the Nabka, for land thefts, for false imprisonments, for deaths, for injuries and for so much more.

Peace cannot come about through more bombings. It'll come one day. But it'll need a whole lot of listening and reparations.

One chant from today I liked: "What do we want? Justice? When do we want it? Now?"

Indonesian villagers need your support

2008-12-24T17:40:00.002Z

The village of Suluk Bongkal has just been attacked by the Indonesian state and by a subsidiary of a palm oil plantation company. You can go here to sign a letter and see how to do more. Here's a quote from that website:

The village of Suluk Bongkal was attacked by the police and by over 500 paramilitaries, armed with fire-arms and tear gas. A helicopter dropped incendiary devices which eye witnesses reported contained napalm. Although the nature of the bombs has not yet been confirmed, hundreds of houses immediately went up in flames. Two toddlers were killed, 400 villagers fled into the forest. Others were detained and 58 people remain in the village, under enormous psychological pressure and cut off from the outside. On 20th December, a helicopter dropped stones on tents set up by refugees from the village.

The violence is linked to Sinar Mas, one of the largest pulp and paper and palm oil plantation companies in Indonesia. This particular plantation belongs to Sinar Mas subsidiary Asia Pulp and Paper (APP), which reportedly owns the helicopter used in the attacks.

2008-11-11T22:04:00.003Z

Deary me. It has been a long time. I got some abusive posts today about how smug I'd been in this post. I actually meant to come across embarrassed and ashamed, but obviously I hadn't managed.

Anyway, it meant that I then went and had a look at my stats to see where they'd come from. Turns out they'd googled 'the sun gotcha t shirt', so not surprising they didn't like my politics.

And that meant I noticed a surprising amount of people are still accessing my blog. So I'm prodded to write some more.

I'm still intending to write some more about what I learnt in Colombia (I say that now, so Paul can take the piss some more if I haven't by the next time I see him.)

In the meantime, I'd like to suggest you all watch this, which I've found to be an educational and an inspiration.

This also made a lot of sense to me.

Ingrid etc

2008-07-04T16:50:00.003+01:00

If you've wandered in looking for an analysis of the Ingrid Betancourt etc rescue, you're better off going here or here.

The Voyage Home

2008-06-27T17:22:00.007+01:00

[I may be back in the UK, but I have four more half-written pieces which I'll be posting up over the next month or so, so do come back.]

This ship is way, way bigger and way way friendlier than the first. It now occurs to me that the captain of the last vessel was maybe a bit depressed, which led to the less-than-joyful atmosphere on board. This captain's loads more cheerful. He gave us a barbecue & party which I understand is more common ship behaviour than not to have one like last time. After the meal, the captain and the three oldish German passengers left. I chatted with the Russians and Ukrainians on my table until I got bored of the sexual innuendo (not long), and then went to hang out with the Filipinos. I know I wouldn't want to spend an evening being the only woman drinking and dancing with a bunch of Colombian men, so it was like a breath of fresh air being in such a surprisingly unsexually-charged atmosphere. Everyone so polite and respectful. Marvellous.

The ship has the capacity to carry 2100 containers, including 350 refrigerated. Both the captain and chief mate said they took no interest in what was inside them, they just knew there were some avocados.

This ship can burns to 90 metric tonnes of fuel per day. A lot, huh? For those about to suggest that it doesn't sound any more environmentally friendly than aeroplanes, my response is that if there were no passengers, the cargo ships would still go. The increase in demand for air travel has a direct effect on the amount of planes in our skies. What affects freight transport is how much stuff we buy.

A thousand pounds for the ticket seems like a crazy amount to me, and was far, far crazier to all the Colombian taxi drivers who asked me about it (the last one did a satisfying amount of incredulous thigh-slapping during the conversation). But if you consider the fuel costs around 600 dollars a tonne, and that merely going through the Panama Canal costs 120 000 dollars for a vessel this size, given the paperwork and hassle involved, it's not surprising that most vessels do not bother to take passengers.

My favourite fact about the boat is that the seven Ukrainian and three Russian staff only have three names between them (3 Sergeys, 3 Igors and 4 Oleksandrs). The ten Filipinos get a name each.

[Photos of the BBQ courtesy of one of the Oleksandrs. The only Ukrainian on board who spoke Ukrainian.]

The story of the land won

2008-06-16T20:39:00.002+01:00

The new Colombian constitution in 1991 gave black and indigenous communities a cool new load of rights. They can now claim collective land rights for land their communities had historically inhabited. Plus they have the right to be consulted before any state or private projects which affect them.

Even if they are not on their land, merely nearby, palm monocultures affect the local population due to the environmental degradation they cause. Deforestation means a loss of fauna, and water sources are polluted or dry out from overuse. In this case, the two oil palm companies were indeed setting up on land which afro-colombians were forcibly displaced from.

Therefore they had a strong enough case. Not that that made it particularly easy to win. It took a good few years, and a lot of help from a particularly wonderful civil servant, but eventually they got a resolution giving them the legal rights to all 2900 ha of it.

That was the story I had heard so far. And where were they now? Well, disappointingly, not much further. The legal resolution giving them the land neither spells out the land's boundaries, nor a timeframe for the palm companies to vacate it. They are still there. The oil palm (the proportion not yet killed by bud rot – perhaps half) is at it's most productive stage. They are in no hurry to go.

When the afro-colombian community had lived there, they had no legal title to the land. The state considered it theirs, and were happy enough to let the palm companies in. Now the state has legally handed it back to the afro-colombians, it is taking no responsibility for getting the palm companies to leave. Given that it generally takes power and money to get things moving here, it's not currently clear what the community can do. Granted, evicting squatters is generally a civil matter. It's just that normally the state haven't helped them break in.

Squatting is one of the biggest problems these communities on collective land titles are facing. It may be difficult to evict palm companies with government officials in their pockets and links to paramilitaries. It is equally difficult to ask the coca growing drug-traffickers to leave nicely.

Where palm helped the poor... for a while

2008-06-14T02:01:00.009+01:00

[In a few hours I'm off to get on my cargo boat. It's been quite a rush this week, as the boat is leaving three days earlier than the original schedule. (When you sign up for a trip, it is made clear that this might happen.) I'll be writing more on this story when at sea, and I may get to post it if the Dominican Republic stop is in the day and I have enough time to go swimming too. Back in UK around 27th June.]

I have been chasing a story for the comic book my organisation is creating about Colombia. We hope it'll be like the brilliant Joe Sacco's Palestine and will explain the history and issues of this country in a readable and digestible way. Chapters will be about stuff like the murder of Coca Cola worker Isidro Gil, and the social effects of the cocaine trade.

Obviously there is a bit of a bias towards stories about people getting killed by the state and paramilitaries, as that does tend to happen a lot here. So I was hoping to find a feel-good story for a section on agrofuels.

I heard about a case where an afro-colombian community had won 2900 hectares of their land back from two palm companies. The person who first told me about it didn't know what the current situation was: whether the community was going to keep the valuable palm on their land and sell the companies the fruit, or whether they would uproot it. The next person I went to for details didn't know either, and said I would have to ask them.

So I travelled south on a two-day bus journey, to Tumaco in Nariño. It took a little while to warm to the bloke from the community which had won the land. I found it quite difficult to extract information from him, especially the details needed to bring a story to life. He was not a man for detail. When he took us from Tumaco town to a village on his community's land, and I asked him “Who are we seeing next?” he replied, “A colleague.” Really not an ideal interview candidate.

Luckily, all the people who gathered round us in the cafe in that village were easier to engage.

There has been oil palm in that area for the last 25 years so the five farmers we met were second generation palm growers. They are still in debt though, as they had to replace the original palm trees. Palm had been good to them until recently. They were probably the first campensinos I had met who were putting their children through university. I was struck by how much on this trip I heard people talk about how their basic needs are not being met. Drinking water. Healthcare. Education. But for these farmers, the income generated by oil palm had made a big difference to their standard of living and quality of life.

Until recently. But here in Tumaco I saw first hand the way that monocultures are vulnerable to disease. Bud rot is decimating the oil palm population. I saw large areas where affected palm had been felled. I was told the yellow leaves on much of the palm that remained, meant those trees were also dying.

This is devastating to the campesinos who grow palm. All those we met were affected. Mostly with 100% of their palm dead or dying. They will have no income until the first harvest of whatever crop they next plant. In the meantime they will have to take their children out of university. And do lots of worrying about their debts.

When I was in Regidor being taken around the countryside to interview people about palm, I felt good that my guide, president of the Movement of Landless Campesinos, could also use my trips to network and build up his organisation.

My guide this time had just been to a seminar about 'piñon' the next agrofuels monoculture idea which could replace the dead palm. These farmers were desperate to know what they can do next. One is planting a bit of cocoa. Another said it was not worth the hassle as the crop is so easy to steal. Growing food crops is just not profitable enough due to transport costs. Yes, it leads to greater food sovereignty. But as someone told me, you still have to buy salt. (And pay for your children's school fees. And healthcare. Clothes are also useful.)

The new agrofuels idea appears to be one of the few choices they have which will meet their basic needs. The other being a supposedly bud rot resistant new variety of palm which costs three times more than the last variety did.

In Colombia I’ve heard mention of ‘planes de vida’ (‘life plans’) a fair bit. This is distinct from the more familiar term ‘local development plans’ as they reflect the fact that people here are questioning what is meant by ‘development’. ‘Planes de vida’ involve planning with local communities what changes they want which better reflect their values. This afro-colombian community is one of those which use the term, and yet they are stuck within an economic system where choices seem limited and leave them vulnerable to crop diseases and to fluctuations in international commodity prices.

For those in/near London

2008-06-09T02:39:00.004+01:00

I was asked to forward this. It all sounds pretty interesting, but of particular note is the June 19th showing about displacement in the Choco region of Colombia. Much of the reason people have had to leave their land in this area has been the growth of oil palm.

Refuge In films 2008
Refuge In Films Festival 20th – 22nd June 2008
Contact: Beatriz Villate +44 (0) 7903 494 703. E-mail: refugeinfilms @ gmail.com

ABOUT THE FESTIVAL:

For the second year running, Nueva Generation presents Refuge in Films, a film festival dedicated to raising awareness about refugee and migrant issues. In 2008, the festival is being entirely developed by a group of young people. By giving a voice to young refugees, the festival will address issues of representation of refugees and migrants in the film industry and will be a space of celebration, contributing to a more tolerant society.

The festival has been curated by a group of young people from New Generation and RefugeeYouth that come from different countries: Colombia, Somalia, Ethiopia, Iraq, Eritrea, Zambia, Congo, Sudan, Sierra Leone, Palestine, Kosovo, Algeria, Angola, Guinea, Mauritius, Bangladesh, Italy, Spain, France and England. They met fortnightly over four months to watch films and discuss the pictures from different angles and came up with an amazing programme soon to be published!

Refuge in Films 2008 has developed a Film Challenge in which young people have produced short films about immigration and refuge in collaboration with WorldWRITE and Grain Media. Young people aged between 15-25 years old have produced three films that are to be shown during the festival.

PROGRAMME DETAILS:

Refuge in Films 2008 will have a preview on the 19th of June in Casa Latino Americana, Kilburn presenting a trilogy of the Colombian anthropologist Marta Rodriguez about displacement in the Choco Region of Colombia.

The grand opening of Refuge in Films 2008 will take place on Friday the 20th of June in Poplar, at the St. Nicholas Church Hall, where young people from New Generation, RefugeeYouth and Leaders In Community are getting together to enjoy a night of celebration and the screening "Sling Shots Hip Hop" 2007 (Sundance Film Festival 2008) by Jackie Reem Saloom. The film will be followed by a musical performance created by young people based on the film. It will be a night in which young people form different communities in London will get together to share their diversity.

During Saturday 21st and Sunday 22nd June, Refuge in Films will present a programme of films at the British Film Institute on the Southbank and alongside the films there will be different visual workshops for young people at the BFI Southbank's Delegate Centre. On Sunday 22nd we are screening "The Lighthouse" By Mariaa Sakyan 2005, (London film festival 2007) in NFT1. This screening will be part of the programme of the BFI Southbank for June.

In addition at the Tricycle Theatre, on Saturday the 21st June at 4pm, in partnership with Sandblast we are presenting "Sahara is Not for Sale" (2007) by Luis Arellano and Joaquin Calderon, at the Tricycle theatre in Kilburn. And on Sunday the 22nd Sling Shoots Hip Hop 2007 by Jakie Reem Saloom, will also be shown.

Refuge in Films has been invited to screen some films at the launch of Refuge Week Wales at the Riverfront Arts Centre, Bristol Packet Wharf, Newport South Wales on Saturday 14th June. We are presenting three short films, produced by young people: The more the Merrier (2008), Being Roma or Die Trying (2005) and A Road in My Life (2007) plus the films produced on the film Challenge.

Venues:
British Film Institute, BFI South bank Belvedere Road, South Bank, London SE1 8XT
Tricycle: 269 KILBURN HIGH ROAD, NW6 7JR
Casa Latinoamericana: Priory House, Kingsgate Place, NW6 4TA
St Nicholas Church Hall, Aberfeldy Street London, E14 0NU

No riot for the nuns

2008-05-31T00:31:00.007+01:00

I went to see the cool nuns again. They were even more bright-eyed and sparky talking about the strike in Yarima they are now supporting, than when they had recounted being in a riot with the strikers of Puerto Wilches.

Yarima is a corregimiento [district of a municipality which includes a village of the same name and smaller outlying villages] in San Vicente in the department of Santander. It's fairly near Puerto Wilches, where people were giving their own strike credit for inspiring this new one.

The nuns were liking how the Yarima strike is lots more organised than the Puerto Wilches one. This is easier as it's a much smaller community and people all know each other. They have an evaluation meeting at the end of each day to look at what they could do better. (I really like the sound of that myself.)

There has been a great sense of solidarity from the area. Yarima has a big advantage over Puerto Wilches in that oil palm is newer, and it is not as widespread. This means more countryside left for sympathetic farmers to grow useful stuff, like food. When these farmers pass by,they leave the odd sack of corn or yucca or half a dead cow.

The strikers said they are actually eating better now than they did when they were working. Now the wonderful generosity of the local farmers mean they get three hot meals a day, and there has even been food left over. When they were working in the fields, their food would be cold, less frequent, and less of it.

Being well-fed is great, but the cash they are lacking after forty days of striking certainly does not mean their lives are now easier. They have no money to pay for their rent, for any medicines their family need, or for their children's schooling. Many can no longer make the down payments on their motorbikes, which will leave them without transport.

According to the nuns, the strikers' policy has been to block the roads to any vehicles connected with coal, palm, oil or rubber, and letting all other vehicles pass. The idea of targeting other industries was to put pressure on the government to help move on the negotiations.

The strike hit the national news early on, as the president of the oil workers' union (USO) Jorge Gamboa Cabellero suffered an assassination attempt while visiting the strikers. That's how it was reported in the press anyway. The nuns made it sound less certain. Whether the two armed infiltrators who had been taking photos of the crowd were actually intending to kill USO's president as they moved towards him, I'm sure we will never know. The crowd at the time were fairly convinced, swiftly surrounding the men and disarming them. Jorge Gamboa says he owes them his life.

The palm workers were originally striking to demand better working conditions, similar to the situation in Puerto Wilches. Their main demands were for:
1) the system of employment through cooperatives to be abolished and the companies to employ their workers directly, complying with their legal responsibilities such as social security payments
2) a rise in pay which has been frozen for years.

Below Google & I have translated part of the background information they gave with their list of demands. [I recommended Google translator if you interested in reading any of these Spanish links in English.]

Because the palm companies had still not responded to the workers' demands, three days ago the local community called a civic strike in solidarity. This has widened out the issues, making links to other local problems, such as the degradation of both the environment and infrastructure (eg roads) caused by the companies taking natural resources from the area. The health centre is in a state of utter disrepair, and the community notes how wealth is being extracted from their territory while their circumstances are getting worse.

The Governor of Santander visited yesterday. He made some agreements with regard to social investment, but nothing relating to improving the palm workers' conditions.

When I started writing this, I named it 'No riot for the nuns', but since then I've learnt that the riot police turned up this morning and there was a confrontation. Tear gas. Rubber bullets. Two thousand people. Fifteen injuries. People seeking refuge in the church (pictured). But let's presume the violence was all one sided and it wasn't a 'riot'. And I don't think the nuns were necessarily there. So please excuse me for not thinking up another title.

If anyone would like to email me a message of solidarity (by posting a comment), I can send it on to the nuns and they can take it to the strikers. If it's in English, make it shortish and I'll translate. I'm sure it would mean a lot to the strikers to know people are thinking of them.

Workers' List of Demands: Background

[The first paragraph deals with the change of land use since palm arrived in the area in 1985 and how this led to land theft, forced displacement, and people's conversion from farmers to palm labourers, working on the same land previously belonging to their families. Then it discusses how labour rights have degenerated over time, especially with the formation of workers' cooperatives.]

Today, the outlook for our community and our workers is dark. We watch as the environment deteriorates from the aggressiveness of crops that do not respect the rivers, streams or gullies. The indiscriminate felling of forests has brought us serious problems of erosion and the destruction of water sources, with disastrous consequences for the extinction of flora and fauna. Autonomy and food security have been lost as we have gone from being the food pantry of Magdalena Medio to consumers of traditional products brought in from other regions such as yucca, corn, plantain, fruit, and meat and milk derivatives that we previously produced. These are required for our nourishment and that of our children. In addition, we now have to pay the extra costs for transporting these foods.

The cultivation of palm throughout these 20 years has only generated the unbridled exploitation of our workforce and our land, without any compensation apart from the miserable wages we earn. The long hours of work only serve to line the pockets of the executives at the expense of the suffering of our people. We watch as our men and women hand over their youth, health and even life in this work, without seeing any improvement in their quality of life as was promised at the start of this project. The technical and technological training did not happen, the social investment did not happen, and neither did the decent work with fair working conditions which we inhabitants of this region deserve, as the owners and generators of so much wealth.

Responses to 'Fiercely disappointed'

2008-05-27T23:02:00.006+01:00

I'm grateful for having wise friends who responded to my last blog in ways that moved on my thinking.

From a friend with Pakistani heritage:

i wonder if you are judging the organisation too harshly - not in terms of their patriarchal and class hierarchy, but i think what the manager says is fair. In the wider social setting - doing the work that the women in the canteen do - they probably would have a lot less "pay" for longer hours (i am guessing). The fact that they work half a day (by local standards) enables them to work elsewhere also. Working many jobs is not uncommon in developing countries. I have a cousin who works 5 jobs. He leaves home at 6am and returns at between 1-2am. 7 days a week. Its not living as we would like to think of it - but the reality for the majority of the world.

I guess i am saying be careful not to judge people by your own standards of living...

---

From a friend who works for a labour rights NGO:

I would say that you should definitely NOT talk to funders, at least not until you have actually spoken to the workers themselves to see if they actually want you to crusade on their behalf.

Writing to funders could have several consequences: one is that they decide to up their funding to ensure a minimum wage is paid, more likely they will either ignore it or possibly pull funding. their funders are likely to react to an international observer contacting them as a potential PR issue, and defensiveness is very often the approach.

I know it's disappointing - we want the groups we work with to replicate the justice they are calling for in their own structures, but this is often not the case. You need to look at an issue as a whole - where would the extra money come from - higher fees for food, more funding (from where?), from cutting the number of staff? Are staff at higher levels paid really high wages and could they take a pay cut to ensure minimum wage for canteen staff?

As you said in the email while they are discontent with their salaries they also feel some sense of ownership over the project, and maybe they feel that they are willing to work on a semi voluntary basis. This is where the real difference between the palm companies and the social group lies. People are often willing to make sacrifices for something they believe is for the good of themselves and their families, but why should they do the same for a multi national company that doesn't give a shot about anything but extracting the maximum profit they can.

So I would say that the only thing to do for now is try to have this discussion with workers themselves, but you need to understand the financial workings of the organisation too. In that way you can hear if they have their concerns or demands and provide them the information they might need themselves to push for higher wages. If they want to do that, then maybe you can have a role in supporting and facilitating this process. Social justice is often not just a matter of numbers, but a matter or process. If workers can speak to their managers and raise their issues, and more importantly their concerns can get heard, then that's really what's important. I would say this is where you might have a role. But be careful of taking actions that could really make things worse, and make sure that if you do take action in solidarity, it is based on the wishes of those you are showing solidarity with and not on disappointment with reality or simple outrage at injustice.

Hope that helps - sorry if I misunderstood and you've already done these things.

---

I had the following reactions to my friends' emails:

- Primarily I've been worrying about how much sleep my friend's cousin gets.

- I agree I was judging the organisation by my standards and the ideal that people should at least be paid the minimum wage. The reality is that even the state doesn't pay all its workers the minimum wage. I guess the economy as it is just doesn't support it.

- I've transferred some of my anger at the injustice in this organisation, to the injustice out in the world in general. Seems fairer not to just pick on them. These same problems are everywhere. Actually this organisation has a reputation for walking the talk more than most. At least it includes its beneficiaries in its structure, and meets with them. Unlike many of the more paternalistic NGOs here, which spend their time meeting with other NGOs.

- I was quite amused/shocked to realise that while I had spoken to a few of the coordinators about this, I never spoke to a single cook about anything at all. We generally just smiled shyly at each other. Various reasons for barriers - class, communication, confidence... So I would have been making that classic mistake of speaking out on behalf of people who hadn't asked me to. Which led me to feel compassion and empathy for the managers cos this behaviour is unfortunately normal and I'm no angel either.

- From what I know of the people concerned, writing to the managers is unlikely to bring about anything positive. And writing to funders is very risky as well as inappropriate. Given I have now left the area so I can't go back and talk to the cooks, I conclude it's better for me to accept there are some things I have no power to change.

Fiercely disappointed

2008-05-25T22:31:00.004+01:00

For the last month I've been accompanying a women's organisation, while they have been helping me talk to people about agrofuels.

This accompaniment has involved visiting their various comedores populares (canteens in working class areas) and being a visible foreigner there, and going with the coordinators when they visit the working class districts.

This is an organisation which has had three workers murdered by paramilitaries, and an enormous catalogue of threats and harassments made against members.

The solidarity provided by international accompaniment helps to decrease their sense of isolation as well as increase their reputation as an organisation with international support, so the state and the paramilitaries are less likely to mess with them.

The canteens were set up as a service to the community. They provide very cheap lunches for 2000 pesos (58p). I've been round a fair few of them now, and I generally ask how many people eat there – which ranges from 40 to a bit over a hundred – and then I do some mental arithmetic and worry about their finances.

Until it stopped in 2004, they got subsidies from the UN World Food Programme. Currently the coordinator's post is paid by core funding, and the two cooks' wages and all other costs are meant to be covered by the canteen's income.

So I would sit there calculating... 40 meals at 2000... say if the cooks got paid 40 000 (the daily wage of manual labourers in Villa Elvira)... that leaves absolutely nothing for food, electricity, water or rent. No wonder they are getting into debt.

I don't know why it's taken me so long to find out what the wages actually are. But after all this time I've been whinging on about how badly the palm companies pay their employees, I am fiercely disappointed to discover that the social organisation I'm working with, the one that's fighting for social justice, PAYS ITS COOKS LESS THAN A THIRD OF THE MINIMUM WAGE!!! 150 000 pesos (£43). Less than 5000 (£1.40) per day. For cooking, cleaning and washing up from 6am to 2pm, six days a week.

Many of the cooks are single mothers. Is there at least a policy of letting their dependants eat for free? Afraid not.

At least the palm companies almost pay the minimum wage. Although, as in many countries, the minimum wage is not the same as a living wage that actually covers basic costs.

I had already been a bit disappointed in how hierarchical the organisation was, and how firmly class determines who has the power. Not for the first time I am glad my accompaniment organisation is one which sees its role as solidarity not neutrality, giving us the freedom to question and challenge. So I wasn't stepping out of line by asking, “What do you think might happen if there was a strike to demand the minimum wage for the cooks?”

I was told that at a recent assembly, when the upper echelons were off agenda setting, those left discussed the fact they hadn't been paid for 2 months. They joked about a strike, but concluded that that would be like striking against themselves. Nice that they have such a strong sense of ownership.

I talked with one of the coordinators about decision making in the organisation. We discussed how there is no culture in Colombia of giving constructive criticism to your friends. Only of criticising your enemies. People aren't used to learning from feedback. She said that although they talk about working conditions and pay among themselves, it is not a discussion they have had with those who make the decisions. The comment that they 'lack the tools' for this discussion, given they don't understand how the organisation's finances work, particularly depressed me.

It really is so easy to replicate the same unjust systems we fight against. They may be doing their best (One of the managers I've met is extremely dedicated and committed. Most days she leaves the house at 6am and returns at 8 or 9pm. And then sometimes goes out again for a meeting. Plus working weekends with no concept of TOIL. Way harder than I'd ever work) and have some great results in terms of empowering women in general. But they lack some basic social justice within their organisation.

So although there is no culture of constructive criticism here, and although I am aware of my tendency to put my foot in it, I hope I shall be brave enough to talk to management about how paying less than a third of the minimum wage is, well, wrong. No matter how their finances work.

---

Update: I did ask the coordinator about how come they pay so little. I was told that it they don't pay 'wages' because they are not a company, they are a social organisation. The money is a 'contribution'. I suggested it was difficult to survive on 150 000 pesos. She explained that it's not meant for people to survive on. They are free from 2pm to do other work. They cannot be responsible for people's economic welfare.

I've been reflecting a bit on how justification can be an ugly thing. And that exploiting your volunteers and having issues around decision-making, power and class are problems common to many NGOs.

I'm taking advice on my next move. I'd like to write to their funders, if I can be confident it would have a positive effect.

Solidarity raises your wages

2008-05-21T00:40:00.007+01:00

When I spoke to the nuns just after the palmworkers strike in Puerto Wilches ended in February, they were upbeat about having been in a riot, but they painted a pretty dismal picture of what the 30 day strike had achieved. Despite the fact that it got so much solidarity and support from locals, nationals and internationals.

I have been staying in Puerto Wilches for the last two weeks, with intention of finding out what had happened since. It's horribly hot here, which made me ill and then took away my motivation to do anything that isn't sleeping.

So I've given myself a deadline to get the interviews done so that I can leave and go live somewhere cooler, with a better mattress less overrun by biting ants, and which I don't have to share with an 8 year old boy when more family come to stay, who's in the habit of kicking me in the face throughout the night.

After an eleven hour sleep, (which seems a lot even for me), I got myself up this morning with some determination to go find some people to interview.

Since then, things have been going surprisingly smoothly. We asked around for the bloke who was one of the leaders of the strike. Shortly after, he turned up where I was staying. And rather than listening to the tale of woe I had been expecting about the strike achieving nothing but an increase in repression, the word 'triumph' was repeatedly used.

Before the strike, those working indirectly for the palm company Monterrey through cooperatives (set up and controlled by the company so they can avoid various legal requirements such as paying for social security) got fined like this:

6000 pesos (£1.70) for each seed bunch they cut down which had less than five seeds fallen loose – ie was not considered ripe enough.
6000 pesos for each seed bunch left uncut with more than five seeds which have fallen loose – ie too ripe, although it may have ripened in the time between the worker passing the palm and the supervisor checking it.
3000 pesos for each kilo of seeds found on the ground below the palm trees.
6000 pesos for each seed bunch cut down by one worker, but left behind by another instead of loaded onto the cart.
2000 pesos for each seed bunch stalk cut more than 2 cm long.

So basically there were four or five things you can get wrong every time you cut down a seed bunch from 2 metres above your head.

These fines ate into the wages of the workers, along with having to pay for overpriced tools, transport, raw materials and social security payments. A healthy-looking 700 000 pesos (£200) monthly wage therefore shrunk to 250 000 (£70) take-home pay: just over half the legal minimum wage.

To give you some idea of the purchasing power of 250 000 per month, consider that's just over 8000 pesos (£2.30) a day. Consider the palm worker may well be the only wage earner in the family. Consider people here tend to have a lot of children (5 or 6 is the average number).

Some common costs
Lunch: 4000 pesos.
An exercise book (and each schoolchild needs about 15 in a year) 1000 pesos.
A pen: 700 pesos.
School uniform: 50 000 pesos.
School sports uniform: 34 000 pesos.
School annual enrolment (eighth grade): 80 000 pesos.
Rent: 150 000 pesos per month for a two-bedroom house.

ie, A pen or an exercise book is an hour's wage. Lunch is half a day's work.

Food costs
Due to the 47 000 ha of oil palm here in the municipality of Puerto Wilches (about a third of the rural land) not leaving much space for food crops, bananas which used to be given away to neighbours for free are now imported from Venezuela or Ecuador.

Transport costs make fruit and veg prices high, which is a source of frustration for people given they live in such a fertile area.

A pound of potatoes: 1200 pesos (35p) in Puerto Wilches, 400 pesos in the nearby city of Bucaramanga.
A pound of tomatoes: 1500 pesos (43p) in Puerto Wilches, 400 in Bucaramanga.
A pound of plantain: 600 pesos (17p) in Puerto Wilches, 250 in Bucaramanga.

The Threats
As for the repression experienced due to the strike, well, it's not as bad as it could have been. Blokey I spoke to was verbally threatened by the police during the strike. He had a fairly exciting story about being shot at and a load of them involving themselves in a motorbike chase where they followed the assailants back to their base at the police-station. They reported it but the police have somehow chosen not to follow it up. There was also a young guy who left town for a month when him and his mum were threatened after his active involvement in the strike. He's back now though.

The Triumphs

For the Monterrey workers:

The fine system has changed so the 6000 fines have been reduced to 2500 pesos, half paid by the company and half by the cooperative. The other fines are now 500, also half paid by the company.
Workers now are allowed a 3% margin of error before the fines start. Supervisors give you the opportunity to cut the stalk to the right length before a fine is imposed.
The tools that had to be bought from the company are now sold much nearer to cost price: roughly half the cost they were.
Wages have increased by 28%.
There is a review committee of workers and company reps who meet monthly to look at how the fine system is running.
The company pays for a full-time consultant to lend expertise to the cooperatives.

All this means that the strike has lead to an increase in income of about 40% for workers in this sector. Up to around minimum wage levels. I think that's quite an impressive triumph.

Plus positive results breed others. This strike has inspired other nearby, which is now on its thirtieth day.

And there are less tangible consequences of over 3000 striking workers coming together every day for a month. A new organisation has started up with a focus on encouraging the cultivation of staple foods. People have a sense of success and unity that's nice to see. Right perked me up it has.

The cows here have lovely ears

2008-05-17T17:57:00.003+01:00

A tough call

2008-05-06T19:56:00.003+01:00

I have had quite a tense couple of weeks trying to work out how I am getting home. Trying to find a yacht owner willing to let me hitch back across the Atlantic was much easier than for the outward journey. Despite my complete lack of sailing experience, there were a few boats who would have had me. (These are the sites I used to look.) Everyone was leaving in the first two weeks of May from either Saint Martin or the Virgin Islands, in the north-east tip of the Caribbean. The dream of swimming, snorkelling and learning a new skill to help future fossil-fuel-free travel meant I adjusted to the idea of leaving four weeks earlier than I had meant to.

However trying to get to any bit of the Caribbean without flying proved too much of a challenge. Strand Travel told me that no cargo ships accepted bookings for such a short leg. Odd given that on my way here a couple had got on in Martinique to travel to Cartagena.

The Cruise People were a bit more helpful and at least found me a 13 day voyage to Jamaica which had already left by the time we spoke. (And they are cheaper than Strand.)

My conscience had seemed quite prepared to do a little flying jump from an island I could get a freighter to, to whatever island a boat was leaving from. It reasoned that such a short flight wouldn't go right up into the stratosphere, where littering CO2 directly to the greenhouse gas blanket is more of a problem than down in the biosphere where it might get recycled into something useful like a tree.

My conscience was less sure about flying all the way there, and even less sure when it learnt there aren't any direct flights and you probably have to go via Miami.

I gave up flying in 1998, and since then have done two return flights to the Middle East for Palestine solidarity work which I considered to have a positive karma debt. One friend told me that given some people fly to work and others fly to Spain every weekend, my decision to fly or not on this one trip is irrelevant and is part of activists' problem of deliberately depriving themselves, which he sees as fundamentalism.

That did slightly convince me for a day. Cos I did really want to go.

Then I spoke to my parents, who sounded disappointed. Dad said, “Well, you've got to do what's right for you”, paraphrasing something George Fox said to William Penn, with the same effect.

Today I've just had to go through it all again, as I got an email from the family I was gagging to sail with, who originally did not have room for me. Now they do. Look at how much fun they're having! Ooomigod. What an incredible way to spend a year of your childhood. Happy happy blond children. And enough of them to make loads of party games viable.

So I looked into flights, squirmed some more, and eventually came back to the same conclusion:

I may regret not taking up this opportunity, but I think I would regret flying more.

For me, making that flight would be like saying that my life and my choices will not make a difference. And I know that they do. I know this because people tell me so. The person who told me I was part of her decision not to fly on holiday to Bolivia, and the person who told me she now flies to Europe less often because of me, have become part of my reason not to fly to the Caribbean.

Obviously all forms of transport I might make my journey on are going anyway, and my decision is pretty abstract and symbolic. But it is a symbolism I find I don’t want to let go of right now.

Although, granted, I may change my mind again tomorrow.

Photos of cute children

2008-05-01T21:16:00.010+01:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I last wrote. I have a few partially formed bits I'm working on, but nothing solid enough to post yet. And now my friend Sar says she's been worrying about the quiet, so here are some pictures of cute children to pass the time. The first bloke was my roommate for 5 weeks. Credit to Jess Hurd for the last one.

Snapshots of Regidorian lives

2008-04-19T16:33:00.010+01:00

Alberto had been farming some land with no legal protection, so when asked to leave by the landowner, he had no choice but to become yet another landless campesino in the municipality of Regidor, Southern Bolivar.

He has spent the last two weeks clearing some land next to a road. He intends to plant food crops such as corn and yucca. It is owned by an oil company as it has a pipeline beneath it, and although he could be told to leave it at any point, given that this oil company have tolerated all the others doing the same thing, he is hopeful he might be able to stay there for a few years.

The next time he is moved on, perhaps he will be able to find another disused corner somewhere near enough to walk to. Although in a few years time his food crops will have even more Oil Palm to compete with.

Nicolas paid 7 million pesos (1300 pounds) for some land. Unfortunately, he’d been tricked and the person he had paid wasn't the owner. So he continued in his landless state.

Unlike many I've met in his situation, he was an exceptionally cheery fellow. The disused corner of land he's been farming for the last two years is on a small island. I asked if the owner minded. It turned out the land belonged to the family of the person who had brought me there to meet him. So we can presume he’s safe there for a good while.

This is one of the many, many bits of land I've been shown which now floods in the winter. Two years ago, the water would drain away. Now that a palm company has blocked up the drainage stream so that their own land remains dry, these four hectares owned by Davíd can no longer be used to grow corn. He receives no compensation for the lost harvests which used to bring in around six million pesos (1500 pounds) a year. Like many others have done, he explains to me how the power of the palm companies means no one wants to make a fuss. (Nearby a couple of weeks ago, the army took a man away. People don't know why, but it adds to their general desire to keep quiet.)

This is one of the fifty displaced families living in Regidor. They came two years ago, fleeing paramilitary violence in another area. The husband works for a palm company, earning between 10 000 and 16 000 pesos (2.80-4.50 pounds) for a ten hour day. The wife tells me that palm is the only work he could find, and his social security is not paid so he would like to move to another firm who do pay benefits. His earnings do not cover their costs, and they have a debt of over 200 000 pesos (55 pounds) for food.

None of the displaced families are doing well economically. Due to Oil Palm, land is expensive and there is little available to grow food crops.

Diana and Omaira share our back yard. Diana has physical and learning difficulties and Omaira has a degenerative disease. Neither of them find walking easy. They spend pretty much all day every day sitting in the shade. Diana has her lunch brought to her by her sister's family. Omaira's comes from a niece.

There should be state support for people such as them who need it. But local politics rarely works like that. Here the families of those who actively supported the current Mayor's campaign, get the support they are entitled to. Those who didn't, don't.

A death threat brings it home

2008-04-17T03:04:00.005+01:00

Yesterday, in the office where I'm writing this, my friend turned up with the bit of paper we had known about for days. Such is communication in these parts, the death threat emailed to various recipients on April 4th, had only come to the attention of us in Regidor on the 9th, and we only had it in our hands on the 11th. It turns out the death threat does not list my friend by name, but it is very clearly him referred to as "Leader of Regidor, obstacle to a good municipal government". Drawing on a particular turn of phrase often used by the local mayor.

The threat is addressed to four people (one by name, two by profession and my friend specifically referred to) and various organisations, with the subject "Get out of the Magdalena region".

As it got passed round those who had arrived to read it, I got to witness a scene that must be frequently played out throughout Colombia.

Since hearing about the threat to his life, my friend who previously always seemed so cock-sure and relaxed, now fidgets constantly. As people read the details, they realised that the group as a whole was also included, and the fear spread round the room.

They discussed the fact that the threat was very serious. The consequences that my friend leaving would have on their work. Who would want to get involved now, and risk becoming the next target? Would the micro-credit scheme have to fold? What would that mean to the lives of those with loans? If he left, would the work continue? If he didn't, what were the risks for him? Can a community response be organised to increase everyone's safety?

I listened with a sense of detached and objective interest. I felt pretty sure that their weighing up of risks would be a wise one and that he would leave before anything bad happened to him. So it interested me to watch the effect that words sent in an email a week before could have on a community. The potential for a positive response that would strengthen the community, like what happened after Alejandro Uribe's death. The possibility that this threat-as-opportunity attitude would not win out.

In a way it made me angry and frustrated that it can be so easy to spread such fear. Someone somewhere creates an email account, sends out a threat, and communities are crippled, organisations fall apart.

But I understood too, that this email works because it is not just an empty threat. People know how close the nearest paramilitary base is. People know who in their community have been killed in recent years. And when we heard that for the last two days two paramilitaries have been seen talking on the phone in the alleyway by my friend's house, I started to feel a lot less detached.

Postscript: I wrote all that a few days ago, but thought I'd wait until we'd left Regidor before posting it, so's not to overly worry my Dad. Not that he should worry anyway. My international status makes me pretty safe.

It turned out that the 'threat-as-opportunity' mentality has won out impressively well. My friend was pretty pleased with the way the community has rallied round him, and we went to a fair few meetings to discuss the community's response before we left.

Given that the death threat also named some catholic priests and the EU-funded Program for Peace and Development, there has been political power on our side, and the threat has made national news. It is the first time I've seen a death threat reported in the media since I got here. (And I know there have been more.)

The press release my organisation sent out has been translated into English. Mysteriously, when it asks you to write to people in the Colombian government to complain, it misses out most of their emails. Here they are for your convenience: auribe@presidencia.gov.co, fsantos@presidencia.gov.co, siden@mindefensa.gov.co, infprotocol@mindefensa.gov.co, mdn@cable.net.co, ministro@minjusticia.gov.co, contacto@fiscalia.gov.co, denuncie@fiscalia.gov.co, defensoria@defensoria.org.co, secretaria_privada@hotmail.com, anticorrupción@presidencia.gov.co, reygon@procuraduría.gov.co, cefranco@presidencia.gov.co, fibarra@presidencia.gov.co

Don't worry that it's been a few days since the threat. It's still incredibly helpful for the government to know that people abroad are noticing these things. Colombia's international reputation is important to them, especially as their human rights record is part of the debate currently thwarting their hopes for a free trade agreement with the US.

And don't worry about writing in English. You can always copy in the demands in Spanish (the four points after 'Solicitudes').

Decree 2007 remains intact

2008-04-15T20:23:00.003+01:00

In 2001 the last mayor of Regidor passed Decree 2007 which meant that land here can only be sold from campesino to campesino. This was specifically to make it harder for the palm companies to obtain land.

The current mayor, with family ties to the palm industry, unsurprisingly wants this to change. A meeting was set up of the committee which has the power to undo the decree.

It was an open meeting. A friend of mine spent time going round various communities informing them of the importance of their attendance at this meeting, to show their support for keeping this decree. Over sixty of them turned up, including almost thirty from San Cayatano, a community who have already lost their land to a palm company.

To start with, we heard the mayor explain why we should get rid of this decree which is against the interests of campesinos. The two people who then spoke in favour of it got interrupted, shouted at, and personally insulted by her. My friend was told he had manipulated people by encouraging their attendance.

To his great disappointment, not a single one of the sixty people who had travelled in from the surrounding area to attend the meeting, spoke out in support of the decree. Which was quite some testament to how scared people are. As I've mentioned before, the mayor's family does have a reputation for its paramilitary connections. The small community of San Cayatano has lost seven people to the conflict in the last ten years. Five killed by guerrillas around ten years ago, and two killed more recently by paramilitaries. So people perceive the risks as very real. My friend who did speak out, was directly confronting the very people who had arranged the three threatening phone calls he has received. The next day he told me how nervous he was feeling.

Fortunately, with all the shouting and the poor facilitation and the tendancy of meetings to involve lots of talking and opinions and little decision-making and action points, Decree 2007 remains intact.

There are good guys and bad guys

2008-04-12T17:33:00.006+01:00

I’ve run in to both the defensoría (Public Defender who collects human rights complaints) and the fiscal (Public prosecutor who processes legal complaints) from Rio Viejo on a number of occasions now. They both seemed pretty friendly, and I hadn’t formed much of an opinion on either of them.

I made an appointment to talk to the defensoría about the complaints he’d received about palm companies.

He started with an analysis of the problem of palm, which included the fact that the wealth is not owned by the community. When corn is grown, those harvesting it get paid in kind in addition to their wage. After a corn harvest, the leftovers are available to whoever wants to go collect them. Birds eat corn and form part of the ecosystem.

Nothing eats palm. It does not contribute to region’s biodiversity. Workers are paid the same ‘going rate’ (12 -15 000 pesos), but without a bag of corn cobs or whatever food stuff they were harvesting, they are significantly poorer.

Because for the first two to four years no seeds are produced, and full production does not start for another five years after that, oil palm is only a business for those with significant capital to invest.
Wealth and the power that goes with it, are further concentrated in the hands of the few. Who don’t always use it fairly. Most of the palm companies do not make the social security payments they are meant to, making their employees vulnerable. One company which often pays late, points its workers to the loanshark at the gate on pay day. He charges 10% interest, and is suspected of being mates with the management, and of using the same money the workers should have got directly.

Sharing his analysis it was already clear the defensoría was a good ‘un.

Then he told me about a particular case of a farmer whose land is completely surrounded by palm company land. They had blocked his rights of way to his land with ditches and fences. They unilaterally cut down the trees dividing the land (which would normally happen only by mutual agreement), which fell onto and damaged the farmer’s fence. His cows got out, and some were killed while others received machete wounds.

He made a complaint to the defensoría. A counter-complaint was made, concerning the fact that he had opened up the fence that was blocking his right of way (see photo).

The fiscal, whose office is next door to the defensoría, is apparently not one of the good guys. He is prosecuting the farmer for damage to the fence, but not the palm company for any of its infractions. “This is how Colombian justice works” the defensoría tells me. Bribes being a staple of the criminal justice system, and palm companies being in a far better position to afford them.

It struck me how enormously frustrating being one of the good guys must be. He spends his time receiving complaints about injustices, but has no power to get them processed. His neighbour the fiscal came in while we were talking, was all friendly and jovial with the defensoría, who gritted his teeth and was friendly enough back. All the times I’d seen such friendliness between them before, I had no idea what lay beneath it.

Postscript to March 8th Hijacked By Patriarchy

2008-04-09T19:36:00.002+01:00

I met up with the woman who organises the women’s group here in Regidor. I particularly wanted to get the low-down on what she made of Women’s day on March 8th being hijacked by men. Turns out it really was a hijack. The women’s group was meant to be co-running the event with the town council. They had intended something more educative, and had planned presentations and a visual piece about domestic violence. She was out of town for the few days before, and arrived back just in time to watch the event be dominated by men, with no proper time even made for her to explain the work of the women’s group. So maybe it wasn’t just me who found it annoying. Although she seemed more resigned than irritated.

She told me a problem with the women’s group is that people are not able to attend meetings. Child rearing is the main focus of most women’s lives. And they tend to have a lot of them. Their husbands are not so partial to helping out even for the duration of a meeting. So they are stuck at home.

Apparently, some women are not allowed to leave their houses much at all. Husbands may have trust issues. There is not such of a culture of visiting female friends. And while this small town has a surprising number of pool halls, they contain only men. There are precisely no public spaces for women to socialise in.

I guess that means some victims of domestic violence are isolated to the extent that they don’t even have anyone to hide the bruises from. Literally never leaving the house. The thought does my head in to be honest. Our Asian neighbours in Birmingham may not leave the house to walk to the corner shop, but they get driven about for plenty of social visits. Although I guess in every culture there are some women stuck at home and suffering.

While women everywhere face similar problems when weighing up whether to leave the short-term certainties of a home and some family income for the unknown, which may or may not bring longer-term benefits, in a country such as this, making that break is particularly difficult. The lack of economic independence is even more critical when considered together with a lack of social welfare and a quantity of children. And strong social norms lead to women accepting their lot and staying quiet.

March 8th could have been a great opportunity to have educated women about their rights and sources of support. As it was, 400 women having a rare chance to socialise together had more significance than I realised at the time.

Love & Machismo

2008-04-08T22:03:00.002+01:00

When I got here, my standards for pulling were

1) Not in a monogamous relationship
2) A decent gender analysis
3) No moustache

I soon realised this would equate to six months of celibacy. So 2) was downgraded to "Vaguely decent gender politics", then to "Not machista" (A particular brand of sexism and male chauvinism they have here), then "Not overly machista".

After two months, the bloke I found at least conformed to 1) and 3). The jury was still out on 2).

What might be warning signs in the UK, I made allowances for, given the cultural context. I was told off for saying I didn't need his hand to help me make the very easy step from river bank to canoe-ferry. Apparently when he hadn't offered it before, people had shouted “Give her a hand”, and me refusing it made it look like we were arguing.

Early on, I pulled him up on a comment about women being experts at manipulating men. But I thought it wasn't worth ending a relationship over, especially when continuing would be such a rich learning experience.

In the UK, a relationship with a particularly alpha male had taught me an invaluable amount about the patriarchal society I live in. How men who are more tied up in it have an expectation that their needs will be fulfilled by women.

Here that tendency is far more pervasive. And men whinging on about their needs not being met is something I find a proper wind up. There's a whole genre of music seemingly devoted to the subject (corridos), but in any genre I catch lyrics of men singing about how she's left him (so ask yourself why!) and how they can't live without her love.

At the Assembly of the Federation of Farmers and Miners of Southern Bolivar, a woman was explaining how the experience of their micro-credit scheme was that women were more responsible. The same man got up to speak who had just joined the lunchtime women's meeting I'd been in. He listened a while to us organising a women's event, and then interrupted to speak at length to ask how we could help with his grandchildren's educational needs. So I was expecting a level of ignorance, but his comment (and some vociferous clapping from a few) left me convinced I must have heard wrong. No, apparently he did actually say that it's not that they don't give women a space, it's that they go past the space they've been given.

Then there was a musical interlude. Someone who'd done some great performance poetry earlier, undid any respect I had for him by explaining how the next song was for all men who had ever cried over a woman, as he believed there wasn't a man alive who hadn't. The song was about if you treat a woman well and give her flowers ("woman like those details"), she'll respond to your caresses. ie tips on how to get women to meet your needs, given that's what they're here for.

It occurred to me that what all these men crying over women are actually lamenting is the loss of their needs being met. That might seem a bit harsh, but I feel the idea is supported by my experiences.

Blokey told me he loved me an hour after our first snog. I told him that given he hardly knew me, he was confusing love and lust. He denied this repeatedly, and was more forthcoming with the keenness than anyone I've ever been with.

There was pressure to return the keenness. For the first time, I was instructed to tell someone I loved them. (I explained why that was a daft instruction, and I'd tell him if and when I felt it.) When he answered his own question "Do you know what it means to me to be lying here next to you?" with the word "suffering", I failed to avoid laughing out loud. I think the response that he expected was probably more sympathetic and ego-stroking.

I'm only here for two more weeks, and it would have been very simple to opt for the easy life and lubricate our time together with some expressions of keenness that I didn't feel. Responding to demanding behaviour with what is being asked for can be less tiring than resistance.

Which helped me to understand where his comments about women being manipulative come from. "A woman's feeling that she must get around a man is the hallmark of male dominance." (Steven Goldberg) Manipulation is what you resort to when you lack the power to confront directly.

While his expressions of love and enthusiasm continued being expressed, I was not feeling like our relationship was particularly good quality in terms of closeness, connection or communication.

When he told me that his partner (who had left him 6 weeks before) was returning to him the next day, he didn't seem to get the point that that was us finished. He told me I should learn to do it the Colombian way. That there's nothing more beautiful than secret love and stolen kisses.

I was amazed that my obsession with honesty and integrity in personal relationships had not come across to him still. To me, it's such an enormous and integral part of my identity. If that's who I am, and he so clearly hasn't got me, who has he been 'in love' with? Conclusion: Someone who was meeting his needs.

My integrity had already been compromised by the complications of how much things are very different here. He had originally wanted us to have a secret relationship because in this town it is looked on badly if you get together with someone less than three months after your last relationship. He wanted me to hide it from my Christian landlady/friend and her short-tempered husband. I did tell her, but she asked me to hide it from her husband and from the town, as her fellow church goers would judge her for letting it happen and she would lose respect and social standing.

I was left feeling pretty sad. That relationships here are so full of lies, which complicate and prevent closeness. He seemed to view what we had as something special, and given the lack of connection felt at my end, I feel sad for him his benchmark is so low. And sad for his partner that she's back with someone so demanding and misogynistic and deceptive. And given he definitely was "not overly machista" and is in many ways a pretty top bloke, very, very much sadder for all those Colombian women who have to put up with so much worse.

Even less like the National Farmers’ Union

2008-04-07T15:57:00.004+01:00

There were criticisms I didn’t voice about the National Farmers’ Union (Coordinador Nacional Agrario) assembly as I didn’t want to be too rude. Although it functioned well as a networking space and a morale booster, it basically consisted of three days sitting in a big room listening to people talking. For the one small group session we had, my group had over 30 people, of which only a small proportion (and only one woman) spoke.

The Assembly of the Federation of Farmers and Miners of Southern Bolivar was organised to promote more active participation from delegates. I wondered if that was because two women were involved in the agenda setting. When I asked one of them, she took no credit, but went off on a long rant about how CNA was built top down while the Federation had started from its bases, meaning it has a much more participatory and horizontal structure today. She considered it a better organisation for her to work with, unlike the CNA which remains uncomfortably hierarchical.

I found the sessions more interesting. Partly because I now understand much more of what’s going on around me, but also as they were focussed on forming proposals together rather than listening to egos rabbiting on.

Another difference from the CNA assembly was that for the first time since I got to Colombia, I got to witness a bit of state intimidation.

I was called out of a session to be part of the international presence standing around the army sergeant who had come in, wanting to be introduced to all the leaders of the event, and to attend the gathering. When I arrived, he was being pretty insistent, and was demanding the ID of the person who was politely trying to dissuade him. It was beautiful to watch how quickly this power balance shifted when extra people joined the group. A little more on the defensive, the sergeant changed his track and began to talk about how he merely wanted to take this opportunity to make a connection with the Federation, because they both had the same goals of being in favour of community development. And anyway, it was a public event and he had every right to be there.

Very interesting to watch the dialogue. Colombians tend to have this indirect way of dealing with conflict, so the sergeant was never directly contradicted. Even when his points were really rubbish. It was put to him that there was a time and a place for making such connections, and this was not it. And it was not a public event anyway.

Alejandro Uribe, the Federation member killed by the army in 2006 had quite a presence at the event. He was mentioned many times, including being sung about. It was said that if he hadn’t been killed, and if people hadn’t reacted in the way that they did (now I’ve heard it was 5000 people mobilised in Santa Rosa for 45 days), many more people would have been killed since.

I wondered whether it was worth explaining to the sergeant that given the army had killed a close mate of many of the people present, surely he could understand that people might find his presence intimidating.

Someone from the EU-funded Program for Peace and Development got the Vice-President’s office on the phone and handed it to the sergeant. While he was being told off from on high, a member of the Christian Peacemakers’ Team asked a similar question: Would it be useful to mention Alejandro’s death and the dialogue with the army which has followed. The Colombians present gasped in horror, and were emphatic that that would just inflame the situation.

Brilliant that they were so in control of the situation then. I would have made a right mess of it. Subtlety and indirectness really not being my strength.

After a few minutes on the phone, the army sergeant left. Tail between his legs.

Back in the session, it was explained what had happened, and also that the Federation’s president Teófilo Acuña (who I wrote about in my post “My first Accompaniment”) had had to leave early that morning. The army were overheard the previous day trying to guess which one was him, and the same informant I previously mentioned was still in town.

Apparently that informant had been outside the gathering half an hour before the sergeant made his entry. He had tried to get in, and then came back with some police who asked those on the door why they weren’t letting him in, and on seeing a group of miners being allowed passed, they said they needed to get in because “four guerrillas had entered”.

As with the sergeant, the assertiveness of my Colombian colleagues won through and the police gave up and left. So this year, the intimidation did not affect the Assembly’s proceedings too greatly, other than the absence of its president. Last year the first half day was wasted while the army would not let them begin.

By the way – the lovely Teo is visiting Britain this month. Speaking dates in London and Bristol. Will keep you informed.

Gotcha: Typical of me.

2008-04-02T19:27:00.001+01:00

The most surprising thing I've seen in my time here was when I was eating my breakfast at the Assembly of the Federation of Farmers and Miners of Sur de Bolivar. A bloke came in wearing a t-shirt with a reproduction of the 'Gotcha' Sun front page from the Falklands War.

Enough shame that we fired on the Belgrano when it was retreating. Enough shame that 323 people were killed. Enough shame that a national newspaper chose to celebrate it so coarsely. But I hadn't realised the shame continues with the existence of a 'Gotcha Publications Inc' celebrating that celebration. And that enough people concur so that a t-shirt ends up marketed and bought in Colombia.

Well, the culmination of all that shame got me a bit fired up. I happened to be sitting next to an Argentinian, so I explained the wrongness of it to him. But that didn't cure me of the need to go on about it some more. So I called the poor bloke over to ask if he wanted to know what his t-shirt meant. His lack of an affirmative answer didn't stop me. And sadly his obvious and intense discomfort at being given this information in front of an audience somehow didn't help me stop either. As will come to know surprise to anyone who knows me.

Half an hour later he returned in another t-shirt.

Feeling comfy

2008-03-31T20:59:00.002+01:00

Sorry to have lost sight of the blogging mission lately. I'm still living in Regidor and we had Semana Santa (holiday week) where things all slowed down and I did more swimming in the river (very annoying little biting fish take away some of the fun, but it's incredibly warm and delicious) and even a little tea-drinking and gossiping with my landlady. And since then I haven't quite got back into it. But I intend to be much more on the case this week and will hopefully post something every day.

I've had a really strong sense of blissful contentment here. It comes from how quickly I feel I've made proper friendships and connections with people here.

When Colombians ask what I think of their country, I normally say something about how I friendly and open I find the people. It seems like a platitude, but it's utterly sincere.

The openness doesn't just manifest in how people are welcoming and helpful and want to find out all about me and my life. It means that although I am in a culture which is radically different from my own in many ways, I feel I am accepted. In the past when I've been in other countries, I've found it a strain that I've not been comfortable being myself. I've known that many of my opinions and much of my behaviour would shock people, so I have kept quiet and adapted.

Here, I've been able to talk to people I've only just met about why I never want to get married, or about my non-monogamous relationship back home. Without knowing first how religious they are, or what their opinions might be. Because of a sense of however strongly they might feel about a subject, they would still be non-judgemental and interested in how I'm different. Not quite everyone, obviously. But this has been my experience so far.

The Tale of Two Landless Villages

2008-03-19T20:58:00.005Z

The villagers of El Piñal, like many rural communities, do not have it so easy. There may be a health centre building, but it has no staff or medicines. There may be a primary school with two out of three of the teachers needed, but for a secondary education, students have to walk an hour to get the bus. In the winter they need a canoe to cross the 300 metres which is under water. They leave the house at 5am, returning by 3pm having not eaten in that time. This year there are 58 primary school pupils, but no one is travelling to the secondary school in Regidor.

Drinking water has to be transported by hand or donkey for 1 1/2 kilometres.

The man bitten by 'Doguidoca' snake (who was very lucky to get the antidote in time, as that's a very poisonous snake) now has problems with his sight. He paid to see a specialist once, but can't afford to again.

Many things are difficult, but for the moment they have somewhere to farm.

Twenty years ago, when FARC controlled the area, the owner of the 500 ha farm next to the village abandoned it to flee the conflict. The first villagers to start farming his land asked for and were given permission.

Now more than fifty families depend on this land for survival. Mostly they have smallholdings of 5 ha, some with up to 10 ha. They grow palm trees for roofing, and staple foods such as corn, yucca and plantain.

I've heard the figure a few times, that there are 8 million people dying of hunger in Colombia. It seems difficult to believe in a country with so much fertile land, but this is a result of the displacements caused by the conflict, and the lack of food sovereignty. In El Piñal, while access to healthcare, education, drinking water or a decent road are a problem, I think we can assume that hunger is not so much.

But this village lives with a great sense of insecurity. Five years ago an Oil Palm company approached the owner. The community strongly asked him not to sell, and he did not.

He has not visited the area for twenty years, so most of the community do not know him. They had no idea if he would say 'no' again. They do know that losing that land would be the end of their village. Resulting in a future of displacement for those fifty families. Meaning the choice between urban or rural poverty, and with most families joining the 8 million hungry.

Meanwhile, San Cayatano is already some way down that road.

When Señor Numa, the owner of a 900 ha farm died 23 years ago, the villagers waited five years for his relatives to claim the land before they started to farm it. They were there for fourteen years: around forty families, again growing staple foods.

It is still unclear whether the men who arrived claiming to have bought the land from Señor Numa's sons actually ever did. (A lawyer from the EU-funded Program for Peace and Development is providing a ray of hope by investigating this.) What was clear were the threats behind the request for these families to leave the land. People were offered some money (although 2800 000 pesos (775 pounds) for 5 ha is not much) and were told that if they didn't leave the good way, they would be leaving the bad way. Given the paramilitary presence in the area, people took this pretty seriously. The last man left was taken by the AUC (paramilitary organisation linked to the state) to be killed, but managed to escape.

That was three years ago. 'Misery' was the word used to describe life for them since. Unemployment is especially uncomfortable when there are eight children to feed. One meal a day becomes normal. Hunger universal.

It is understood that the land was acquired for growing Oil Palm, though it is currently being used for cattle.

Other than their lack of land and their geographical proximity, these two villages have some other links. Six years ago, the father of Regidor's Mayor is alleged to have blocked a water inlet, to drain his own farm. This dried out both the shallow lake by El Piñal and the canal by San Cayatano. The members of both communities who had made a good living from fishing were no longer able to.

It's this same man, believed to have drug-trafficking and paramilitary links, who is allegedly behind the acquisition of Sr Numa's land, and who is thought to be trying to buy the land by El Piñal. The current owner may well be a nice man who does not want to leave his previous neighbours hungry, but a request to sell from someone believed to have ordered the killing of two business associates, may not be so easy to refuse.

Poverty Headache

2008-03-19T20:37:00.002Z

My friend Kenis has a headache. A serious headache. An inflamed nerve which has meant a three-day stay in hospital. When I saw her back at home last night, she looked just like someone who had been in serious pain for days.

The pills she has been prescribed are not available in this small town. They might not be available in the nearest bigger town either. So her husband is intending to go straight to the nearest city. They have been told the 2-week course of medicine will come to around 130 000 pesos (35 quid). That really does not seem like much when I write it in pounds. But for people here who can only just cover the costs of their everyday lives. Where a monthly electricity bill of 5000 pesos (1.40 pounds) seems like a lot, such an additional expense is, like the headache, crippling.

I'm loving living in this town. I love many of the things that seem to come with a lack of wealth in a place: The strong sense of community, the friendliness of people, the huge amounts of mutual aid and solidarity constantly going on, and the delightfully low-impact lives people have with their lack of opportunity for consumerism. Easy to romanticise how the close & helpful community leads to happier, less isolated lives than many lead in British cities.

But Kenis' headache reminds me how it's not actually that fun to live with no safety margin so you can barely cope with the cost of a health problem or a failed harvest.

The Smallholder Palm Growers of Villa Elvira

2008-03-14T21:04:00.004Z

In a country where so many people have lost their land, the winners of a state lottery to divide up the airstrip formally owned by a drugs trafficker were pretty lucky. Two hundred had put their names forward back in 1991. Thirty nine people got 10 hectares each.

I met one of the unlucky ones. He had lost his land 20 years ago when he had to sell it as the conflict meant it was not safe to stay. Ever since he's hired himself and his machete out for manual labour. He said working for the palm companies is good work. The only difference between them and the smallholders is that he gets paid monthly rather than weekly.

It was one of the first interviews I'd done. Not having such a stock of questions up my sleeve, I simply asked "Anything else?" He told me that we're put on this earth to suffer, until the day God chooses to end it. Until then we suffer like the Lord suffered. We work to get our daily bread. And we suffer.

So, as I say, those that won the land are the lucky ones.

However, I worry how long this may be the case for the 22 smallholders who have chosen to plant Oil Palm in the last few years. (The Afro-Colombian community has asked that we don't call it 'African Palm' anymore, as Africa already has enough negative connotations.)

I spoke to a number of them. Many used to grow corn, but the price was so low that it didn't cover the costs. The land is on a floodplain, and some farmers had lost their harvests due to flooding.

So the promise of a crop with a higher commercial value drew them in.

For the first three years, while the palms are growing, they get paid 400 000 pesos (106 pounds) per month to cover the upkeep of the 10 hectares. It actually doesn't cover much. At least two people are needed every day for keeping the area weed free. (If you are reported for having livestock on the land, the payment stops.) If the workers are not family, they need to paid 40 000 pesos per day. If they are, they need feeding.

Some use herbicides. I asked how much they cost, and was worryingly told that the farmer didn't know. The company gave it on credit.

At the time, I got the impression that the monthly 400 000 was a payment from the company. Actually it will also need to be paid back when repayments start after 5 years.

Most farmers currently have a loan of around 25 million pesos (6600 pounds). I asked one if he was worried about losing his land. He wasn't. But others I am working with are not so calm and see it as a real danger. When their trees start bearing fruit, they will be at the mercy of global prices and the amount that their company San Lucas chooses to pass on to them.

It is not a company that has so far inspired much confidence. Three years ago they made an agreement with the local community to sort out the local road (which is impassible in the winter. Children struggle to school knee deep in mud and arrive 2 hours late according to the teacher), and to put in a drainage system to help against flooding. None of this has been done, and in fact the problem with flooding has been far worse as the drainage system from the company's own land directs more water onto the old airstrip, and another palm oil company at the other end has blocked where it used to drain away.

The palm trees which are under water for the winter do not grow as fast, and are unlikely to be as productive, if they manage to survive.

I was told that the meeting we were going to, called by the Corporación Ambiental (Environment Agency equivalent), was to address issues such as this with the Palm companies. It was very well attended. The EU-funded Program for Peace and Development paid expenses for the campesinos to attend. They generally sat at the back. At the front sat those representing local government, the palm companies, the Program for Peace and Development, and a few different state agencies such as the Public Defender's Office (Human Rights lawyers employed by the state) and the Personaría (Local ombudsman’s office, first port of call for complaints).

Instead of the Corporación encouraging the campesinos to inform us what the issues were, or tackling the points raised by the Public Defender, and then coming to some agreement involving some sort of action, there was much talk that didn't lead to anything concrete.

Mostly those at the front talked, and most of what was said had no relation to the problems the campesinos face. We did hear how brilliant one palm company has been in driving up environmental standards. We heard some local politics squabbles being aired. And we heard from one palm company how much common ground it believed it had with the EU Program. Obviously most campesinos were too intimidated to speak out. Those that did had good points that were promptly ignored. Disappointing.

Update on what I’m up to

2008-03-09T23:03:00.003Z

One of the things I wanted to do most in my time here was live with a family somewhere rural. My two stated reasons for being out here in the Northern tip of Southern Bolivar, are 1) to provide the community with some protection from army & paramilitary violence through the presence of an international and 2) to research the effects of Oil Palm monocultures on people’s access to land. The group I´m accompanying get followed to meetings by a paramilitary informer, and this area is set to grow pretty much only palm, with very little space left for food.

I can’t say that the family I’m staying with are above averagely warm and friendly for Colombians. But only because _everyone_ I meet is so enormously friendly. This family have been really welcoming. I am constantly told to feel at home, and I do. After saying at first I could stay for a month, I wondered if I should have been more vague in case I didn’t want to. But now I don’t think that’ll be a problem.

There's a son who I share a room with who is a top bloke. He's just told me he's 13, but he's the size of an 8 year old, so I may have to verify that. His sister's 12 and is still too shy to talk to me, so I will make more of an effort.

Not eating in restaurants (which give the choice or rice with cow, chicken, fish or eggs if you ask nicely) is such a bonus. As is being given fresh fruit juice several times a day.

The internet café doesn’t have firefox, and is slow beyond dial-up speed.

March 8th Hijacked By Patriarchy Shocker

2008-03-09T23:03:00.002Z

I already had some idea of what it would be like, when I heard the male voice on a loudspeaker telling the town’s women they should all go to the Women’s day event.

When we got there, it was pretty evident the men would be running the show. Although it may have been a publicity stunt from the mayor and her mum, and they did give speeches at the beginning, the rest of the time the men had the floor.

We heard from a few male speakers how much they loved and respected women. Then a cheesy band got people dancing (the singer also let us know how much he was a fan). It was certainly nice to see people released from the normal constraint of only dancing in heterosexual couples. Then the MC announced that although mime acts were traditionally silent, this one wanted to say something. What a surprise. Yes, he likes women too. In fact, he considers us to be the best gift god gave the world. Ahhh.

I found the mime act confusing (in the sense of “Why are so many people laughing quite so much?”) when it wasn’t being offensive. The act “Making bread” involved kneading dough, going to the toilet, there not being any loo roll, using some dough instead, and then, here’s the punchline… carrying on making bread without washing his hands! You didn’t have to be there. The comical highlight of the act, “Woman in a shower” was the washing of imaginary breasts. Gives you insight into why Mr Bean is so popular around the world: the competition transforms him into a comic genius.
The school band consisted of eight boys with lovely shiny brass instruments, and two girls taking turns on a pair of cymbals. That was the low point for me. I preferred it when the girls got to do their dance acts.

The police constable explained that he wasn’t talking to us as a police constable, but as someone who loves, respects and admires woman, and who believes them to be the motivation for everything he does. The redemption was that his speech was the intro to the police’s contribution of a drag act beauty contest. Hooray for a bit of gender bending.

There were a few games (eg the classic who-can-eat-the-dry-bread-fastest) where some woman were at least participants rather than passive observers of the event. But participating only in the sense of being told what to do by men.

Overall, we heard from a variety of men how important us women were for them. How they appreciated all sorts of things about us, from our looks, to, errr, how we look, as well as our lovely sweet nature and our roles as mothers, daughters and friends. It was an event put on by the men of the town to show the women a good time. I guess it was never meant to be about empowerment. Maybe being constantly told you’re appreciated and wonderful was a good thing for people’s self esteem. It seemed clear that out of the 400 women packed into the hall, everyone (except grumpy me finding fault in everything) did have lots and lots of fun.

I went home quite wound up. Tried to relax infront of the tele. A message flashed up, “For your beauty and your patience. Happy Women’s Day”. Grrrr.

Update on Colombian politics

2008-03-09T22:41:00.002Z

I had limited internet access during the time Colombia was making the international news. I did write something about it, but now it’s out of date cos since then everyone has hugged and made up.

The only comment I really want to make, is what great tele it made on Friday, when the Rio Summit was being broadcast live. Uribe was going over the supposed links Ecuador had with FARC. He stopped. Ecuadorian President Correa had just left the room, and Uribe said he didn’t want to carry on until he came back. The bottom of the screen flashes up “Correa walks out during Uribe’s speech”. Someone from Correa’s team explains he just popped to the toilet. The Chairman suggests a break. Cut to the newsroom. They explain the news “Uribe is waiting for Correa to get back from the bathroom.” Brilliant.

Remember the anti-FARC march on February 4th? Well as a response, a march against paramilitary violence happened on March 6th. A student activist had told me he didn’t agree with the plan because it could never be as big as the Feb 4th march with all the government and media support it got. Well, I’ve been amazed by how much press attention it did get. Sure President Uribe has said it’s pro-FARC and should be avoided. But the press has generally been positive and it’s lead to an unprecedented opening up of a topic which is normally so rarely reported.

As I was travelling to Regidor, I met a couple of victims on their 24 hour journey to Bogotá (One had a brother killed, the other’s father was shot in front of him and his other six brothers and sisters when he was 10). Their journey was funded, but it would be unaffordable to most. In paramilitary areas, I imagine people would not feel completely safe demonstrating, but plenty did. It wasn’t quite as big as February 4th, or in as many places here or around the world. But there were demos in a few capital cities, and although it had to compete with the Venezuela/Ecuador conflict in the news, it still had a pretty long feature.

My first accompaniment

2008-03-06T19:18:00.004Z

The bloke I’m accompanying on this trip is a trade unionist who was arrested by the army last year. After two weeks, the judge was skeptical about the evidence, and he was released. But while he was in there, pretty much everyone from the local army unit visited to get a good look at him. Meaning his risk of assassination is now pretty high. So he became one of Colombia’s three million internally displaced people and went to live in Bogotá. Unable to visit his farm or his girlfriend.

He was returning to the region (although not the bit where he lived where that army unit is) for the first time since he was released. He seemed to be quite chilled about it, and didn’t ask for any accompaniment, but given he had been asked to find people for me to work with when he was there, at the last minute he asked if I wanted to go along.

When I last wrote about Alejandro Uribe being killed by the army, I wondered about quoting that thing about 600 people marching to the army base. I’d found it as a secondary source on the internet, and I thought maybe I should be trying for more journalistic vigour. Since then, I talked to someone who was there, and said it was easily 600 – Alejandro knew loads of people, and many came from the town of Santa Rosa.

What I didn’t realize then, was that Alejandro’s death had a pretty concrete impact. People camped out in Santa Rosa for a month. There were 400 by the end, and 200 needed accompaniment back to the mining zone. The agreement reached due to this demonstration included that the army agreed to take soldiers out of villages (where they ask favours which are difficult to refuse, and put populations at risk of guerrilla attacks), and that there would be regular ‘Verification Missions’.

It was a Verification Mission we were going to. Lots of government agencies, a few NGOs, and the UN were all going on a trip to a mining village. The plan being, to get the local government to listen to concerns and to act on them.

So, back to another mining village. Three Toyota landcruisers (in convoy for safety) for the two hour dusty journey. The flash UN one with one authorized person per seat. Most people crowded on wooden benches on the back of the most battered vehicle, which got much admiration (as did its driver) in the way it managed the hilly, rocky, rubbish road.

Then just a 20 minute walk, but uphill in quite some heat. So I got why local government might need a bit of a prod to leave their air conditioned offices and come sleep on a mattress on the floor out there in the sticks.
When he arrived back at the town nearest the mining village, the man I was accompanying noticed a bloke start a phone call and say “The guy’s just arrived here, and seems relaxed.” It was the same informer who had made it known after his arrest that if he was seen again in the area, he would be killed. So he had a quick lunch and left.

Back in the city we get taxis short distances to avoid being seen. And have to go to the second-best fish restaurant cos the best one has a reputation for being full of paramilitary and informers.

It has been a real pleasure to hang out with such a nice bloke: Someone with both real integrity and an understanding of feminism. I asked him about how often he gets to see his children, given that some of them live where it’s not safe for him to go. He told me how he sees himself as part of two families – his immediate family and the wider family of everyone in the world. He puts a lot of value on his part in the wider family, and this leads to sacrifices.

Nuns in a riot

2008-03-05T01:59:00.010Z

I met some very cool nuns. The bloke who’d set up the meeting for me had told me in advance that “son chevéres” (They're cool), and he was dead right.

There’s been a strike of palm oil workers happening in Puerto Wilches, and I was meeting with the nuns to hear about how they had been supporting the workers, and how I might be able to help.

They told me about the background to the strike. It started on January 30th by workers from the Monterey company. Monterey subcontracts the majority of its work to cooperatives. Which might sound like a good thing, but it really, really is not. It is done simply as a tactic to get over labour laws.

As Norma The Nun began to tell me about the workers’ conditions, my jaw started falling floorward. Seeing this, she commented how it had had the same effect on her.
Collecting palm oil seeds is not easy work. The men spend the day craning their necks, pulling bunches of seeds down from the trees. It's very hot. There are commonly spinal problems from looking up all day, and injuries from falling branches.

The job of injecting the trees with the pesticide monocrotophos (illegal in many countries) is often done with little protective gear. Last year 18 year old Emilio Sabas died after only two weeks at the job. He only had a flimsy face mask. No protective clothes or gloves. Blame of who should have been responsible for his gear bounced between the Monterey and his cooperative.
Given how most workers can hardly afford the food they need on their wages, extra clothes are not their priority. So they go home in the same clothes, hug their kids, have their clothes washed along with everyone else’s. And studies have shown levels of pesticide contamination in workers’ families.

The sorts of things the Monterey strikers were protesting against when they started, included how

- The many ways in which they get fined. For bunches with fewer than 8 branches, for bunches left in the trees, for bunches cut without leaves, for stems which are too long, and when bunches are too ripe and seeds fall out.

- Wages had not risen in five years

- Workers have to pay 100% of the transport costs of getting to the fields

- If they buy their tools from the factory shop (where they can get credit, which they need when they're paid late), they are 60% above market value.

- Workers have to pay for the transport of the seeds from the fields, and are fined for any damage to the carts, including wear and tear.

- The cooperatives are meant to pay 100% of the social security payments. Given that Monterey is often late paying the cooperatives, there are gaps in payment which leaves people with a big problem if they have an accident during one of the gaps. It’s risky work, so people do.

- Workers are fined for the seeds that fall loose on to the floor. Women collect them off the ground. They are paid, and the men are fined, according to their weight. That’s the bit that really made my jaw drop.

So the Monterey workers started the strike on January 30th. They were joined on February 13th by workers from many other companies. They set up a blockade on February 18th. Two groups of nuns were there, supporting two different sites, meeting up at 4am.

The nuns had gleaming eyes as they related the story. Riot cops arrived at 5.25am, threw in some tear gas, and there was a pitched battle til 8 or 9. The crowd grew from 300 to 5000 when the tear gas started. The police singled out people to beat up. They threw tear gas into houses with pregnant women and children in. One woman later miscarried. The nuns treated tear gas victims and told off lots of cops. People got wise to throwing water over tear gas canisters to neutralize them. The police then ran out of gas, were surrounded, and had to get rescued. They left the scene at 12pm.

The blockade lasted another week or so. There were some negotiation meetings, but the companies did not give an inch. Gutting. It’s common after agreements are reached for community leaders to be assassinated afterwards. I imagine they might be even more vulnerable when the power balance is such that they didn’t even win anything. Bit of a worry.

not the National Farmers Union

2008-02-25T23:45:00.004Z

Just a quick one to report on the Farmers' National Assembly, cos I'm off again in a few hours (back at the weekend).

There were about 300 people there. Given that farmers' associations were sending their 'leaders' as delegates, I was expecting to be about the only woman there. It wasn't like that at all. About 30% were women, and there were loads of young people too. Not all the organisations were specifically farmers (eg there was one environmental group), but I guess most people there would have identified as campesinos/campesinas.

I was immediately bowled away by how friendly and open everyone was. No need for icebreakers for people to get to know each other. I felt really welcomed and comfortable. There were a lot of questions about my country, and there was that slightly weird thing about being considered exotic. One woman remarked how she never would have believed that she'd be having lunch sitting next to an English person. And two women asked for photos with me, having never spoken to me before.

There was a feeling of everyone looking after me. The first morning when I got up, about five people checked I'd got myself a coffee. I'm beginning to understand how the way people do that for the simple things, connects to their attitude to where I might be sent to be helpful. My safety seems to be incredibly important to everyone.

When we arrived, we got an induction about horizontal organising, and the need for everyone to chip in with toilet cleaning and gate duty, which felt pretty familiar.

The opening session was pretty moving. It started by naming all those from each region who had been killed by the army, paramilitaries, or guerrilla groups. "For their deaths, not a moments silence. Instead, a lifetime of struggle." "Our leaders are not dead. Their memories live on and provide a motive for us to continue the struggle." Then a 76 year old man, a woman and a youngster gave inspiring speeches. About the need for unity, about how "no one can take away your principles", and ending with the young person promising to continue the struggle.

Every group represented was called on to speak, then some presentations, then questions and answers. The session was 4 1/2 hours in all, with no breaks. I guess this is the culture that Fidel's 4 hour speeches came from.

They did add breaks into later sessions though. One particularly interesting one was looking at what the organisation's policies should be with regard to land rights, displacements, the environment, coca growing, the political solution to the armed conflict, education and technology.

The final session overran into dinner time in a way my stomach did not appreciate. So I was even less patient when the bloke with a particularly over-endowed ego chose to speak for 25 minutes about the history of the organisation, with a focus on his own involvement. Especially when he mentioned how great it was that there were so many women present "and each one pretty and beautiful". The smiles on the women's faces showed how far feminism has to go here. But at least the organisation's structure had been changed to ensure greater representation. (The assembly was organised by a group of men, with mostly big plenary sessions which favoured men speaking. Although when I mentioned this to one bloke, he explained that the women 'chose' not to speak.)

There was more of an openness to experiences and an emphasis on fun than there'd be at a conference at home. Before each session there was a 'mistica' which ranged from music to drama to a guided meditation which everyone seemed to take seriously. On Friday evening I was taught to dance, and I think I managed not to humiliate myself.

End of the trip

2008-02-20T22:32:00.003Z

When we got to Mina Gallo (about 7 hours walk from Mina Piojo, but stopping off on the way), we met up with the three folk we'd started our journey with. They'd been off doing workshops in various villages, and this time I got to observe them.

There was a bloke from Cartegena who owned a consultancy company that had got government funding for this work. The three of them did a workshop each.

I watched the presentation on the environmental and health effects of gold mining, and what simple measures people could take. What I think I understood, is that rather than evaporating off the mercury from the gold, when so much of it escapes and pollutes, they should add 1 litre of water and 10g of salt, attach to a 12v battery, and separate by electrolysis.

Only about 10 people had turned up (which led to a fair bit of moaning from the Cartegena bloke before they started), but those that did were 100% engaged in the topic and asked loads of questions. At one point someone said that miners there had a particular method there they took the ground-up rock/gold/mercury mixture in their hand and spat on it and rubbed it for the gold to came out. Given the toxic qualities of mercury that had just been explained (using a case study I remembered from biology A level, plus a congenital defect example from a nearby village where a baby had been born with no arms), should they be using gloves?

They all had a bit of a laugh about how difficult it would be to get people to change their habits and start wearing gloves. Apparently the response would be "And are you going to live forever?" I felt totally stunned by the concept that anyone rubs mercury into their skin on a regular basis.

The afternoon's presentation was about environmental law and was lots less engaging. I missed the planning workshop the next day, but it sounded brilliant. Apparently the lecture about attendance had worked and everyone did bring at least one other person. The part where they analysed what the problems of the community were, and what could be done about it went particularly well. Sometimes groups focus on how everything is the responsibility of the state, but this group was much more empowered and hatched lots of plans.

That night, I had a bigger interview panel for a "tell us all about your country" session. They said their impression from films was that everything was totally perfect. They wanted to know in particular about how the issues that most affected them compared: the strength of trade unions, suicide rates, drug and lottery addictions, poverty, hunger and racism. What seemed to concern the two men in their 50s the most was pensions, given that they were looking at a near future with no income.

The next day we walked 4 1/2 hours back to La Punta, and got the jeep to Santa Rosa. From the countryside with its one-channel reception unifying everyone's television experiences, I was back in a hostel watching a Prison Break marathon. However I had to be called away to go get dinner before it got dark, as apparently a couple of months ago there was quite an outbreak in violence between demobilised paramilitaries and drug traffickers, resulting in a few deaths a night for a while. Up til that point it had seemed like a quiet, quite dull, small country town. But the bloke from the NGO said he'd not like to travel through it on his own cos of all the ex-paramilitaries floating about. The town had obviously recovered though, and there was plenty of life on the streets after dark.

During my time in the countryside, the thought occurred to me "Will I see fireflies?" Which I didn't, until the night bus back to Bogotá, where I got a proper light show for the bit when I wasn't sleepy.

How mining communities organise

2008-02-20T21:42:00.007Z

The Colombian army have had the habit for a few years now, of killing villagers and declaring them "guerrillas killed in combat". Sometimes they dress the bodies up in military clothes. Sometimes they place weapons on them (recently in the news a Sergeant Alexánder Rodríguez told how soldiers were asked to pay $10 themselves for each gun they placed, but were given 5 days holiday for every 'guerrilla' killed).

Often these are just random campesinos, killed to add to the army's statistics of dead guerrillas. Sometimes they are union leaders or community activists, standing in the way of state interests.

This was the case for Alejandro Uribe, head of the Community Action Council in the gold mining village of Mina Gallo.

The great thing about the mining area I visited, was the complete lack of multinationals. Those who discover a mine become the owners. Occasionally there is sole ownership, but shared ownership is more normal and is encouraged by agencies working with the communities, because then mines are less likely to be sold on.

I was quite intrigued by the relationship between the miners and the owners. Early on I asked about how profits are distributed, and got the vague answer than it depends on the mine. I kept my preconception that the owners were capitalists sitting on their bottoms somewhere while others created profits for them, until finally it was explained to me that actually the owners live in the community and work in the mines, much the same as everyone else. My questions about whether they were the boss of the mines, or about power inequalities in the village were met with smirks. Not really. It's the union that does the organising.

So far, so idyllic. (In so far as, if you have to live in basic poverty, miles from any basic healthcare or secondary education, I'm sure it's much nicer when no one else is making money out of your situation.)

But obviously, there is a multinational knocking on the door. To quote an Amnesty report, "This is an area in which the gold-mining company AngloGold Ashanti (Kedahda S.A.) has interests. Alejandro and other local miners had opposed the arrival of this company in the area."

He was killed on September 19th 2006. The army took away his body, and later declared that he was an armed member of the ELN, killed in combat. When 600 local residents travelled to the military base to demand his body was returned, they were told, "This is not the only corpse you're going to have, there will be more dead leaders."

His absence is still noted today in Mina Gallo. On posters and on a variety of commemorative t-shirts worn by residents. AngloGold Ashanti is also notable for it's continued absence from the area.

Journey to a meeting

2008-02-20T02:46:00.007Z

My favourite meeting of those I've attended so far in Colombia, was held in the tiny gold mining village of Mina Piojo in the region of Southern Bolivar.

To get there, I got a taxi to the bus station in Bogotá, a 12 hour overnight bus to Aguachica, a 20 minute taxi to Gamarra, a two hour boat ride upstream on the river Magdalena to Cerro Burgos and a 30 minute taxi to Santa Rosa. In Santa Rosa we had breakfast and waited for the jeep which proclaimed itself to be 'Servicing the mining community'. Then, a tortuous two hour drive over the worst roads I'd ever been on in a vehicle. Incredible foot-deep tyre-wide ruts that took much concentration on the driver's part. At the moment it's summer and the ground was solid, but in rainy winter those bits would be impassible.

I was squashed between one of my travelling companions and a nurse travelling to service the tiny health centre up there. The nurse was all friendly and chatty, along those "tell me all about your country" lines. He asked me that question "What does your country export?" that I remember from when I was last in Latin America 12 years ago. I remember being stuck by my own ignorance when asked before, and I remember resolving to research the matter when I got home. Though I don't remember doing so. All the ideas he came up with (cars? computers?) I thought had probably moved elsewhere. I forgot that the arms trade was something we do excel at, and my mind was totally blank. Which I'm sure was strange to someone in a country where the evidence of the natural resources being exploited for the national economy is all around you. Even before I got here, I could list loads of Colombia's exports (flowers, palm oil, oil, gold, soap operas and cocaine). With the exception of soap operas, I can tell you environmental, social and human rights problems associated with each one. But other than weapons and what goes with them, and maybe some cars, I'm still not so sure what the UK does export.

At the time I glibly gave this answer, which I welcome you to critique as pitilessly as you see fit (go Nigel): "With our history of colonialism, given that we've robbed the natural resources of lots of other places, now we have the money which makes more money." Opinion or analysis welcome - post them below.

Then we arrived in La Punta: entry point to the gold mines in the mountains. Mules were hired that were in a far worse state than those we'd had on our mountain walking holiday. Life is clearly harsher here.

Then a four hour walk/mule ride along an up & down mud path that apparently is a nightmare in the winter (evidenced by the odd lost wellington boot sticking up out of the ground) and takes hours longer.

We stayed the night in Mina Vieja and set off again the next day. No mules to take our stuff this time, and a three hour walk. Pretty much all downhill, at times steep and tricky. Great views, going through woods stuffed with cool plants and fantastic butterflies, but also with the knowledge that the next day the return journey would be lots more work.

Then we arrived and I got some understanding of what life is like seven hours from a road.

We were told that we'd been expected yesterday. When the only communication is via people being given messages as they pass through other villages, misunderstandings are pretty easy. So a new meeting was fixed for 6.30pm. We watched an electric light being installed in someone's porch specially for the meeting. At 6pm we were called for dinner in the house which included a tiny shop and seemed to function as the village social centre. We'd all had a shower there, and plenty of other people seemed to use the bathroom facilities (small shed with a toilet and hose) too.

For dinner I was sat at a table in front of a tele and my first proper telenovela experience. I discussed with someone from my group how staggeringly, incredibly, bad it was. Only later to get up and notice most of the village sitting just behind me, avidly taking it in. Ooops. (Since then I've not only discovered that they are actually incredibly entertaining, but it's also been explained that the over-acting is a deliberate parody. If true, I guess that makes it okay.)

I liked the meeting because although it mostly consisted of all the men from the village, it was a very sorted woman that ran it. She started by reading out an agenda. And I was happy that a remote gold mining community, where probably pretty much no one had been to a secondary school, could still have a good meeting process. I also liked how a little way into the meeting, she was presented with her screaming child to breastfeed, and how effortlessly she multi-tasked.

I was there with a bloke from a national NGO which does capacity building work, and with three guys from the Federation of Farmers and Miners in South Bolivar. The meeting was for those agencies to encourage community development. I was a bit taken aback when one of the men from the Federation launched into a long rant about the environmental effects of gold mining and what the community should be doing about it, but it seemed to be well received. Everyone was in agreement around the importance of environmental protection. And I felt a bit choked when an old man from the community started his own rant about why you should plant fruit trees even if you're not going to be alive to benefit from them (ie because someone else will).

I also thought it seemed pretty blunt when the community were told that they should plan ahead because at the moment they can choose either that their children only receive a primary education, or that they send them off to secondary (only really possible if they have relatives near a school) in which case they rarely come back. When I mentioned later how harsh this had seemed to me, I was told that the NGO and the Federation are working on a proposal for a secondary school nearer by, and the point was the community needed to get involved in this.

The main other point was to encourage the miners to get more into growing their own food. The news that bananas cost 15p each in a nearby mining village (rather than 5p normally) caused a bit of a stir. By the time we left there was a committed and organised bunch of people with the beginnings of an allotment plan. That felt really positive.

Near the end of the meeting, the Federation bloke who'd been talking for ages, suddenly goes, "and now it's our international friend's turn to speak and to give us some thoughts on her visit here." I would have really appreciated some time to form some thoughts, but I had to make do with bland pleasantries. Something about differences, how we generally all had roads going right up to our houses and how I was learning a lot about what life was like for them. This was followed by some loud demands that I stay for a whole week to learn more. I find the thought really tempting. It was an incredibly friendly and comfortable place to be, with a brilliantly strong sense of community. I'd just worry about getting there by myself.

Later, I did have the time to form some more opinions. I thought about how my previous impression of gold miners was of colonialists causing environmental damage and problems for indigenous people. No indigenous people round here, although, okay, until the clean-mining equipment comes soon to the area, there probably is too much mercury and cyanide being released. But with their houses made only from local wood and plastic sheeting, with all goods being carried in by person or by mule, and with not a car driver or air traveller amongst them, it's the lowest-impact, most sustainable village I've ever visited.

Meeting Sound People, Part 1

2008-02-10T22:00:00.002Z

I'd like to first point out the report on the Facebook march by people from my organisation. It explains some of the background stuff I haven't got round to telling you yet (though I do still intend to).

There's been a Brummie staying in the team house, and it's been very refreshing to feel such an immediate cultural understanding with someone. She's a photographer/journalist here to do bits of work for various trade unions/ lefty papers and with Mark Thomas who came on Friday to join her. He's here to research his book about Coca Cola and their complicity in trade union leader murders. Jess's work is pretty good. Take a look at www.jesshurd.com for slideshows on climate camp, Saving Iceland and a great one on Venezuela, complete with stirring soundtrack.

I've been accompanying her to meetings a bit, doing a little translation.

We met with two people from the Hijos Colombia group. They were very cool. The group started when a handful of young people whose parents were politically active, some of whom had been disappeared, discovered they had common experiences. Right from the start the emphasis was less on being a support group, and more on awareness raising and a thirst for justice. Their precedents, Hijos Argentina and Hijos Guatemala, differ from the Colombian group as here the conflict continues.

The work they have done has included during the 2006 elections publicising which politicians had paramilitary links, and highlighting specific cases of disappearances. As they began to campaign and their profile increased, other young people got involved who shared their politics rather than their specific experiences of having family members persecuted.

For Jess, it was quite important to get their personal stories, cos that's how journalism works. We explained that. They explained that how the group works, is that it doesn't like to focus on the personal, because that creates a distinction between those in the group who have stories, and those who don't. And because they are not about being victims who the state can compensate for their loss. They are about being clear that these cases are symptomatic of the state's strategy to silence and eliminate the opposition, and that specific cases are highlighted only to show the generalities.

It was a little awkward, but for the sake of the story, we had to keep asking. So one of them started: Her mother was from Chile, her father from Argentina. They were exiled from Chile in 1973, moved to Argentina, where her father was imprisoned for two years and tortured, and were exiled again. And then they moved to "lovely Colombia". She spoke a bit about his political activism here. And then she stopped. Erm. A bit more awkwardness. How many times can we ask to hear about her trauma and misery before it becomes really rude?

So, we explained again about the importance of the personal so that readers can relate. And they explained again about the politics of the group (every time they did this, I found them just so, so impressively sound).

And then she looked to the bloke, and he started his story.

Earlier they had said that the first event they had done picked the cases of Nidia Erika Bautista who was disappeared in 1987, and Jaime Gomez, disappeared in 2006. These cases were chosen to show that disappearances happened in the past, are happening now, and will happen again unless the impunity stops and real justice (changing the system not just taking some individuals to court) is done.

It was only when Erik started talking, that we learnt he was the son of Nidia Erika Bautista. Since then I've googled her and found her case referred to as "one of the most important human rights cases in Colombia". And there we'd been, pestering that girl, whose parents we later learnt are actually alive and well. A little embarrasing.

Erik's mother had got involved in the urban guerrilla movement M19 after working for the press trade union and being politicised by colleagues getting disappeared. She was involved in the infamous Palace of Justice siege of 1985, though she didn't enter the premises herself. After that event, which was ended bloodily by the army storming in and over 100 people being killed (and remaining guerrillas and cafeteria workers being taken away by the army, tortured and disappeared), there was a crackdown on M19 members. Nidia was taken from her home by nine members of the army intelligence unit, in front of Erik's sister, on August 30th 1987.

In 1990 an army deserter gave information which led to her remains being found in a common grave, three hours from Bogotá. In 1995 a General was prosecuted and found responsible - the first time this had happened with someone so high ranking. After that, the family started suffering increased harassment and in 1997 they left Colombia to live in exile in Europe. In their absence, the General challenged the verdict, the case was moved from the civil to the military justice system, and two sargeants were freed after only serving six months for the murder. Various human rights groups got involved. The remains were returned eventually in 2002, but the struggle for justice continues.

One thing that was said that I really liked, was that an effect of the group coming together has been that the children of the disappeared from all different parts of the traditionally-splintered-left were getting to learn about each others' struggles and to see what they have in common. In doing so, they gain understanding and unity as they focus together on the issues of paramilitary-state links and impunity. Yey. The left can always do with a bit more unity.

Up the mountain to the hot springs

2008-02-10T00:36:00.001Z

So, the idea of leaving home at 11pm and spending the night hanging about bus stations with the best prospect of sleep being a 4 hour bus ride, complete with pissed people singing, would not have been my plan just before a 12 hour walk up a mountain. However, everyone else seemed content with it.

We arrived in some village early morning, ready to meet Don Luis, our guide and the man with the mules. He loaded the mules with our bags as we set off. There was a sense of urgency right from the start, given it gets dark at 6pm and there was a long way to go. We might have been a bit more stressed if we'd known at the time that our guide had only been there once, two years ago, and wasn't so sure of the way himself.

Everyone else (5 Colombians and an Italian) had been acclimatised to living at over 2600m above sea level, while I've mostly been in Norfolk and then on a boat. So they were sympathetic if a little anxious at my inability to breath and its affect on my speed during that first hour, starting at just 2000m. It was bloody steep though.

Luckily Don Luis and a spare mule arrived soon after and took me lots of the way, so a day I feared would be quite lacking in fun involved mostly sitting on my bottom, impressed with the changing view: waterfalls, cloudforest and then páramo (an ecosystem particular to the high-altitude Northern Andes).

It was quite stressful at the end when it got dark and the mules started racing off ahead. Don Luis didn't want to lose them cos they knew the way better than him. Everyone else wanted us to slow down so they didn't lose us. But we all got to the hot springs eventually. We were greeted by Don Alberto, an old boy who lives up there on his own. Happily he turned to be an insanely top bloke, presenting us with soup and sugary mint tea on arrival.

We had two full days up there, trying to avoid getting sunburnt in the day (incredibly easy to do at 4100m. First time I've got burnt for years and years) and freezing at night as temperatures dropped well below zero. I was very pleased at my fellow campers' plan of enclosing the tents in big plastic sheets, making all the difference between extreme cold and very cold.

Travellers among you will know, that when people ask where you're from, often they respond to your answer with a little phrase to show recognition. I'm told this is generally "London", "Manchester United" or "Tony Blair". In 1995 when I was last in Latin America, the most common reponses were "Margaret Thatcher" and "Vacas Locas" (Mad Cows). I don't know how long he'd lived up there, but I was fairly bemused when Don Alberto brought up that old "Margaret Thatcher" chestnut. Incredible. Almost twenty years on and still what we're known best for.

Don Alberto talked to us about when FARC had control of the area (until a few years ago. Now they just pass through, and don't bother the hot springs tourists apparently). They'd impose a £250 fine on people who started fires, and now they are not about so much, there are lots more fires. We saw a fair few.

Going back down, like on the way up, there was a couple of waiting-for-each-other stops, and a 20 minute lunch break, but otherwise constant walking (though only for 8 1/2 hours this time). A world away from the dithering and hour long breaks of my walking group back home.

Facebook's impact on Colombian politics

2008-01-30T23:33:00.001Z

I've been here in Bogotá for over a week now. Not writing because there's not been much to report. I still don't have a long-term plan for what I'll be doing here. But short term plans involve going on a walking holiday involving 12 hours of walking uphill, stopping at some thermal baths along the way, and then a visit to Arauca where people have recently been forced off the land that's within 5km of a new oil well. Unusually this was done by the FARC rather than the paramilitaries, so my role will be more offering support and solidarity than protection.

When I first arrived, I was under the impression I understood Colombian spanish pretty well, having understood almost 100% of what our taxi driver/ guide in Cartegena said. Then on the bus ride up to Bogota, I found myself understanding pretty much 0% of what the woman next to me was saying. At one point she kept stroking her arm saying something like "caress" while I stared at her blankly. Then she motioned to my arm, repeating "caress". I was confused that she might want me to stroke her, or that it was so important to her that I stroked myself. Until eventually (slow on the uptake as usual) I realised the arm stroking referred to the watch under my sleeve. "Caress" = "¿Qué hora es?" (What's the time) if you are in the habit of not pronouncing 50% of syllables. I'm been very relieved, having got to Bogotá, that here they're not so slack.

I've moved into the team house, where everyone is quite wound up about the anti-FARC march happening on Feb 4th. It started on Facebook (and is sometimes referred to as 'The Facebook March' in the media), and has massively taken off. Obviously being against killing people, kidnapping people, and holding them in very rubbish conditions is something we'd like to get behind. But any mention that the paramilitaries here have killed far more people is not so welcome in the debate, which is of the right-wing "so you're not against terrorism then?" variety. Chávez' recent suggestion that FARC should be given political status is a big part of what has fuelled this march,

Anyway, there's a very nice cat here and I'm massively loving all this
no-air-miles tropical fruit.

Arrival

2008-01-21T16:50:00.001Z

There's no immigration at the container port where the boat came in, so the Port Agent came on the boat to explain to us the process. He had booked us a taxi to take us to a hotel where we were very strictly instructed that we must stay until the taxi came back for us to take us to immigration when it opened at 5. When the taxi did come back for us, we were taken via some random office in town where the taxi driver popped in, saying he had to pick up some papers for us. The French couple with me (whose freight boat journey from Martinique to Cartegena was the cheapest option for them) were very sceptical, and were shocked when he came out with papers including copies of our passports. I never doubted the randomness of South American bureacracy.

Things I've had an emotional reponse to since I've arrived:

- people with no shoes. The jolt of remembering what it feels like to be surrounded by poverty.
- hearing words I used to hear in Ecuador.
- the sense of familiarity and affection I have for this bit of the world.
- the sense of being an outsider
- the politics of agreeing prices for stuff. Being torn between outrage at getting ripped off, knowing how enormously unimportant 50p is to me, having respect for people trying their luck, worrying about the effect that tourist money can have on a society, wondering if the previous emotion is merely self-justification for being tight, knowledge that my money comes from my family's capitalist history and my cushy job and not from any hard work on my part, and that others have pretty much the same right to it as me. A gauntlet. I'm sure to harden up soon though.

Off to Bogota later today.

The mission is in question

2008-01-21T16:33:00.001Z

Well, when we formulated the plan that I'd come here particularly to work on agrofuel related human rights abuses, it was so that I could feed into campaigning in the UK against the EU target of 2.5% of fuel from petrol pumps as biofuels from April this year.

When we formulated the plan, there seemed to be not such a widespread awareness of the problems biofuels were creating in the tropics, or the fact that, (especially where peat is being drained in Indonesia), they might well be contributing to climate change more than decreasing greenhouse gas emissions.

However, it seems that while I was on the boat on my way here, things have kind of kicked off in a way that may mean there's less of a need for me to be banging on about agrofuels to you all. Dr. Hartmut Michel, 1998 Nobel Prize winner for chemistry, has said they're quite a rubbish source of energy and there are far better things to focus on, like wind power. The Royal Society released a report saying that the UK's Renewable Transport Fuel Obligation (RTFO) does not necessarily encourage the use of the types of biofuels with the best greenhouse gas savings. And EU Environment Commissioner Dimas has said that given the social and environmental impacts of biofuels, maybe it's best we don't try too hard to meet the EU targets right now.

Still lots of work to be done, especially given that there are plenty of driving factors pushing agrofuels (eg fuel security & profit) other than whether Europeans think it's an environmentally good idea. And the EU targets are still in place. But perhaps as there are now so many other voices shouting loudly, mine is not as needed.

In any case, it maybe that people here would prefer me to be working on BP's involvement in human rights abuses where it's pumping oil out of the rainforest. So perhaps the title of my blog may become a bit irrelevant. We´ll see.

The Banana Boat

2008-01-17T14:52:00.001Z

It's an odd ship. Apparently.

My fellow passengers are a 24 year old German bloke with a very nice camera (who took all of these photos), and a 69 year old English woman with a vast knowledge of container ship voyages. They are very pleasant company, being constantly positive and happy to be here. As am I.

Mary has done a freight boat holiday pretty much every year since she retired in 1999. She says they are better than cruise ships cos they have less of a focus on wearing gold lamme and who-gets-to-sit-at-the-captain's-table and overeating and shopping. As well as being less crowded and cheaper.

So given that none of the crew or officers have the English (being mostly Ukrainian, Latvian and Russian) or the inclination to chat to us much, it's lucky we have Mary to tell us what's what.

Apparently it's absolutely the least sociable boat Mary's been on. Strict hierarchies are a firm tradition of shipping, and it's normal for there to be a huge big line between the crew and the officers. But there's not always such a line between the passengers and everyone else. On other journeys Mary's taken, passengers have socialised a fair bit with officers, and a little with crew. Although language obviously plays a big part, here it seems everyone is hidden away. Passengers eat in the Officers' Mess. On this boat the Captain and First Officer occasionally make a quick appearance, but the other officers, presumably due to our presence, eat in the Crew's Mess. And we're told that the Officers day room is for our use only. No one is unfriendly. There's just very little interaction.

The first three days there was rough sea and I felt queasy unless I was lying down, which got a little boring. The boat rocked constantly 10-15 degrees from side to side, and things rolled around in a comical fashion. The 2nd officer (the only chatty one) said he'd once experienced 48 degrees of rocking. Wow. Imagine that.

Since then though, it's been very enjoyable place to be. Before I boarded, I found the idea of anyone doing the month's round trip a little strange. Now I totally get it. The rhythym of the structured day is relaxing. And I'm loving having more time on my own than I've probably ever had in my life. Plus some people find the sea calming. (Personally I find its bigness a bit disturbing.)

They weren't joking when they said that there's no guarantee special diets can be catered for. Apparently the quality of the food varies enormously, depending on the agency chef the boat gets given. Luckily this one loves potatoes as much as I do. There's very little variety in the food though, especially if you're avoiding the fish and meat. So although I'd recommend freight boat travel to most people, I'd only recommend it to vegans who were going to bring their own sources of protein.

Yesterday we finally got to see whales. Three of them. Really close to the boat. (Can anyone identify it.) Yey. And flying fish fly a really long way. I saw one go over 20m.

Today we have reached land and are in Guadeloupe underloading some containers (that the Chief Steward thought might have meat in them), and loading our first lot of bananas.

Getting ready to leave

2008-01-03T17:14:00.001Z

Four days now til I get on my banana boat to cross the Atlantic. I had hoped to have done lots of work to this blog by then, posting up concise and lively background information about agrofuels and how they are affecting the environment and leading to human rights abuses.

As it turns out, that didn't happen. Partly because I've been ignoring my trip as avidly as possible, while living in the moment and enjoying time with the beloved boyfriend, who through an accident of timing, I only met last summer.
My boat takes 12 days, goes via Guadeloupe and Martinique, and should arrive in Cartegena around January 19th. I'll be going promptly to Bogota where I shall meet people from www.redcolombia.org who seem to be very clear about the fact I shall be useful to have about.

Apparently there is another woman who booked through Strand Travel like me, so maybe I shall assume she's English. I'm certainly hoping she'll play canasta. There will be up to 4 others. I'm kinda hoping there won't be internet on the boat, but if there is, I'll let you know of any whale sightings.