Cartagena Summit on a Mine-Free World

Clap with excitement

Jump for joy

Carve a snow angel

Leave two footprints in the sand

…. Beware the Perfect Soldier.

*Warning: this may be a long one!*

Well, I’m  not sure where to begin. The conference was such an amzaing experience and I just didn’t want it to end. I was swept away by the courage of certain people, their tenacity and determination, by a united desire and hope, by an international commitment and an atmosphere that breathed friendship, cooperation and above all comraderie. Even the few mishaps were insignificant, when compared with the purpose of the convention. And sure, the outcomes were not all the ones that were hoped, and my young and impressionable, and therefore glowing with the possibilities of the future like a child in a sweetshop, viewpoint perhaps glosses over the problems, but from where I stand, it was a successful endeavour all told.

I was attached, along with the 2 Lauras, to a group of 13 landmine survivors from around Colombia on a project run by Mercy Corps and funded by USAID. They had a programme of workshops, discussions and forums in conjucntion with the Conference, and we were there to interpret for them so they could communicate with the survivors from around the world, and diplomats too at the swanky receptions each evening. The workshops were on topics ranging from Social Inclusion to Community Self-help, all of which were very interesting. One morning we went to visit a sports programme in a poor suburb of Cartagena, not realted to landmines, but with the aim of providing space for kids to learn about community in a fun and social way, as well as giving them the chance to partipate in team sports. This interested the survivors a lot, all of whom have leadership roles in their communities, be they in charge of their landmine survivors associations, or facilitators for the Campaign. A few of them joined in the football match, but most couldn’t, because their prostehses couldn’t take it. After seeing them walk so naturally, I had no idea they were so limited that they can’t run around and kick a ball. For that you need a more expensive prosthesis. That day we also went to watch a Quad Rugby match. It’s a sport invented in America for people in a wheelchair, and is a cross between rugby and basketball. It was great to see how people can overcome unfavourable situtaions through something they enjoy. And people were allowed to have a go afterwards, so the Prince of Jordan and the Colombian Vicepresident joined the Colombian team, against an Afghani survivor on the USA team. We got the opportunity to meet all the delegates at the various receptions, and I had a great time interpreting for the Colombians. They wanted their photos taking with as many people as possible, and one in particular requested my services for most of the time. We went round and he would slighly point to someone and I would have to go and interrupt them to explain what he wanted, and they were always very happy to oblige. In fact for the international survivors, their faces lit up when I translated what Camilo had to say – that he would rather meet them, a survivor, than any president or king, and that they were champions. Although the Vietnam delegation and Guinea-Bissau delegation were pretty happy to chat too! I never realised how fun interpreting could be – when it’s not simultaneous and when it’s between people who just want to know each other it’s the best thing in the world to be able to provide that link. Sometimes it’s seemed strange to me that they couldn’t understand each other as easily as I could, which is something weird about speaking more thna one language I guess. And a few times I accidentally spoke in the wrong language to the wrong person, felt stupid, laughed, corrected myself and carried on!

We went into the actual conference twice. The first time was to hear the Victim Assistance reports from the States Parties, which while interesting, didn’t really give the whole picture I imagine. Plus it was kind of hard to concentrate because I was enthralled by the whole setting – the intpretation boxes to the left, the head table at the front, the hundreds of State Party delegates with their red passes, the observer delegates with their green ones (like me – ICBL Observer Delegate!), the UN secretariat’s blue ones, plus the odd member of the press, and so many countries present! I was also a little smug for not needing the translation headset since everyone was speaking in English or Spanish. But I’ve been here for 4 months so I really shouldn’t need it, therefore no grounds for smugness! And having complained in the past, it is pretty handy being able to speak the international language of diplomacy as my native tongue.

The second attendance at the conference was this time without the survivors. We had no programme for the afternoon so they all wanted ot go the beach, but I was staying another week on the coast so didn’t want to waste the opportunity. And it was a good time to go in. The Deputy of the Red Cross spoke, and the Victim Assistance parrallel forum gave its report, comprising of victms from all around the world, including the ICBL Youth representative Sol Kosal who is amazing, she lost her entire right leg when she was 5 and has been campaigning ever since. Then Jody Williams spoke, founder of the ICBL and Nobel Peace Prize co-laureate and I decided I want to be her. She spoke so charismatically, and she has acheived such a lot – the creation of the Ottawa Treaty in fact. Later I was speaking with one of the American delegation (an intern actually – apparently this conference was not of high importance…) and he said they groan whenever they see her about to speak – I imagine she’s the bain of their lives. And so should she be. We had a special conversatorio between the survivors and the American Delegation and they said the reason they still haven’t signed the treaty was becase in 2004 they took the decision that the US Army still needed to use landmines, and now after the change of aministration it was “under review” again. But that is a loose term… It was pretty cool to be there while the survivors told the delegation some of their experiences and Juanes was also there – of Camisa Negra fame, whose Fundacion provides a lot of aid to landmine survivors. Afterwards TV news cameras came rushing in to get a glimpse of him. We were supposed to be keeping it on the down low that he was there, but someone must have let slip. In that meeting we also met Ken Rutherford, an American landmine survivor injured in Somalia and now without either of his legs below the knee, but who walks with prostheses as smooth as anything. His story was so touching, the lady interpreting was moved to tears as she spoke (thankfully we were let off duty there…).

Throughout the week there were various side-events organised by different NGOs. On the first Sunday I went on a CIREC trip (Colombian Comprehensive Rehabilitation Centre) to Isla Baru, from where they organise activites for survivors for physical and psycho-social rehabilitation. It was such a great day. They offer kayaking, abseiling, sailing, scuba diving and snorkeling and the idea is to get them closer to nature and to let them discover abilities they didn’t know they had. So that as one door closes, another opens – which is actually something a lot of survivors have attested to post-rehabilitation. On arrival, by boat, with a mixture of international survivors, state party delegates and NGO members, we were greeted by people walking towards the shore clapping. I just felt this overwhelming happiness and was grinning broadly all day. We were welcomed with a dance, to feel-good music and performed by survivors who have benefitted from the programme and now help lead the activities. First there was a presentation on CIREC, which was the reason I went, along with Laura C, as were going to interpret it, but it turned out they had got someone else as well, so I ended up doing very little interpreting that day. Then we split into different groups and I went with the kayakers, which was fun! (Actually was in a boat with one of the Colombian State Party delegates who offered me a placement in the Presidential Programme for Anti-Mine Action for the next 6 months…!) Giovanni, the photographer was there too and he took a really cool picture that he showed me of a girl of 18 who had lost a leg age 10 giving advice to a girl of about 25 who had lost a leg 4 months ago.

Later in the week my services were required at another side event, this time a tour of a Physical Rehab Centre in Cartagena, on the CCCM stall providing information to interested parties. Turned out to be a long hot day outside, with a not that many people asking quesitons, but a Jordanian delegate came over to ask if the CCCM would be interested in a victim assistance play they had been performing in Jordan to much succes, where victimes themselves are the actors. Which of course they were. And then the Princess of Belgium came. So that was quite exciting, until I realised she had brought her own translator, into French, and he explained everything without us having to open our mouths, so I whispered a translation into Spanish to the Campaign people who were with me at the time.

Alongside all this was the Youth Forum. The Skype English lessons I had been giving were all geared towards this and the Colombian delegates did really well in their special presentation, although their understanding of all the other presentations was prbably a little lacking. I went with Carlos, from the office, and he did his little speech about his life. He was so nervous, despite my calming words, but he did well, and my interpreting went pretty fine too. And that was also fun, although I realised that interpreters and translators are possibly the most unappreciated job in the world. Which is not the reason I don’t want to take that up as a profession, because it is gratifying to be needed, to be able to provide something that is vital, and to see your translations in publications throughout the conference and in displays throughout the city, but all the same, I just don’t think it’s what I want to do.

So apart from all that, I met lots and lots of NGO people, landmine people and diplomat people, was wined and dined for free in plush hotels, learnt a lot about the diplomatic world and the viewpoints of different sides, and realised I still have so much more to learn.

Some other cool things: in the opening ceremony there two dance troupes that both featured wheelchair users, and were pretty awesome! There were stalls of handmade crafts from around Colombia selling their wares made by survivors, and stands run by NGOs giving out info, badges, bags, T-shirts all around the conference centre, plus an exhibition about Colombua’s situation, the exhibition of Giovanni’s photos from various countries, an exhibition by Gervasio Sanchez… so much to see and do within the conference centre! One lunchtime I helped Laura P translate a speech for an award ceremony that evening, so we did it in the hustle and bustle of the press room.

After the week of the conference, when most everyone had gone, Laura C and I stayed a week longer in a hostel, making the most of the Caribbean sunshine of Cartagena, incongruously decorated with Christmas lights. We went to the pretty Playa Blanca and slept in a hammock there for a couple of nights, 10m from the turquoise sea, we went to a mud volcano to heal our sunburn, we spent time wandering the streets of the old city, soaking up the atmosphere, doing a bit of xmas shopping, but the highlight had to be our one-day minicourse of scuba diving. I don’t know what I had been so worried about – it was Immense. I loved it. The coral at 12m and close up is so impressive, and the swimming among the fish, all the while breathing freely, was so great. Can’t wait for the next time!

So now I have 9 days in Bogota, which is ever more festive, in a campaign office that is more relaxed, and hopefully feeling celebratory! I’m going to be sad to leave, this experience has been, to use a cliche, once in a lifetime and unforgettable.

Translating, adventuring and the Future

Since returning from Leticia, the office has been hectic. Today, however, Thursday, the office is almost empty. Most people have gone to Cartagena, and I am going tomorrow morning early and I am so very excited! The Conference starts on Sunday and runs for 6 days. Let me give you some statistic-like facts: 156 countries have signed, 127 governments are registered to attend the conference, 50 ‘high level’ representatives are coming (ie Ministers of governments etc), 1000 delegates will be there, representatives from several non-state parties will be there – including the USA, despite them announcing onWednesday that they will not be changing their policy. 35 youth representatives from 25 countries will be attending the parallel youth forum, and there is also a parallel victim assitance forum.

The past three weeks I have translated many many documents, these days mostly into Spanish, and often for the press. Plus I have been working with the Colombian youth delegates, via Skype, to improve their English and work on the presentations they will be giving at their forum, and with Carlos who works in the office as I will be interpreting his presentation, (he’s a landmine survivor - his story is a sad one. But he’s doing so well for himself. Shall I write it? Yes. In 2002, when he was 14, he was playing with his friend, their football rolled away and his friend went to get it. An explosion. Carlos couldn’t hear or see and stumbled towards home. Someone helped him and from then he doesn’t remember anything until he woke up 1.5 months later from his coma. He was told his friend had died and he may not be able to walk again. 9 hard months of  recovery passed, and then he walked again. His brother heard about the campaign, they moved to Bogota and Carlos had 42 surgeries. He missed the one-year deadline for compensation from the state so has to pay for it all himself. He now works in the campaign and goes to school in the evenings. He wants to be an economist.) I’ve tranlsated so many stories like this one I fear they no longer seem real. But his does. You can see the scars on his face.

Anyway, enough of that. It’s been great in a bustling and slightly stressed office, everything is leaning towards this conference. Yesterday the quarterly Colombian anti-mine action bulletin was published, and more importantly, it was the launch of the 2009 Landmine Monitor, collated by ICBL* and facilitated by CCCM**. We all went to the launch in one of the universities in the centre of Bogota and I, along with Laura C, welcomed the press and took their details so they can  be registered for Cartagena. We heard speeches from Alvaro (head of CCCM), Camilo (researcher for CCCM), Sylvie, (executive director of ICBL) and several other people and although only 25 people came, it was good. Unfortunately somewhat overshadowed in the press however by the USA’s announcement that they won’t be signing next week.

So I am excitedísimo because a) the Caribbean again! b) this is an important conference and I’m going to see it first hand c) Everyone from the office is going and we’re going to have a great time together d) There will be so much going on and I will have an actual role e) I am going to go to the press conferences and the UN meetings and work out my future career path! Well, get some ideas anyway. Because recently I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do and the fact that I am so excited to go to the press conferences and meet journalists makes me wonder if that’s what I should be doing… but then again the UN and all these NGOS are so mega interesting and do good work. So really how am I supposed to decide. And really,a dn maybe unfortunately, it’s the governments who have the real power to change things, so maybe that’s where I should be aiming.

Amidst this flurry of activity, there has still been time to make the most of being in Colombia. I’ve been to a few more salsa classes, and tried but failed to avoid aguardiente, drink of the devil (mentiras, it’s just not very nice and leaves you with an un-paracetamol-able headache), spent time in the Candalaria and browsing markets, cursed the time spent in traffic jams, had my purse stolen, then delivered back to me sans cash, and the weekend before last was a puente (long weekend) so Laura and I took off to San Gil, adventure capital of Colombia.

It is such a lush little town. Its main square is an actual hub of activity, where during the day children play and old folk meet and chat, occupying the benches beneath the trees, and as dusk falls the youth take over and it is a veritable party until 11pm, when everyone relocates to the out-of-town clubs. And that’s when the witches come out. They’re somewhat superstitious in the pueblos of Colombia and Laura and I met a guy in the main square who told us all about the warning signs we should look out for. Then a woman who obviously lived on the streets ran across the square and his eyes bulged and he pointed a shaky hand toward sher, whispering “She’s a witch!” The next day we were in the square again, with a girl we had met the day before and the woman appeared again, this time with a massive bag of flour. She stopped near a big group of people and started hurling flour in all directions. The crowd ran screaming. and the woman ran towrds them and she chased them around the square, throwing flour as she went. Then she put it down and someone ducked to pick it up and run away with it. She chased them fiercely until she came upon an empty bottle, then ran to the fountain to fill it up, where someone pushed her in. And that’s when everyone stopped running away, and the atmosphere returned closer to normal. But she was not done. She went back to her flour, where it had been left by the tormentor, and began her rampage once again. And I was laughing so much at the crowd’s reaction, and the fear that everyone had of this poor woman. But when she came towards us with her flour I swiftly backed away… Crowd mentality took over!

This wasn’t the highlight of the weekend, merely a smalltown Colombia story tha tI wanted to remember. The highlights were many in fact. I went paragliding, which was so so much fun and actually not at all scary, and also white water rafting which I enjoyed lots, more than I expected after the last time when I did not enjoy falling in on grade 5 rapids, but this time they were grade 3 and it was ace. And we also went rappelling – abseiling down a waterfall, which was pretty amazing, although more difficult than I imagined – I had to hold on tight! Awesome weekend though. We also visited a cute colonial town where their traditional snack is toasted hormigas culonas – big-bummed ants. So I obviously had to try some, but I had to buy like 30. And I ate 2. They were actually not too bad, but the texture was bizarre, like soft but crunchy.

To completely change the subject, it’s very much nearly Christmas in Bogotá. There are so so many lights and a lot of them have been turned on. In the square in Usaquén, there are so many lights it’s almost daytime, but I LOVE it. There are loads of white trees, lit up, and it’s like walking through a glowing snow-covered forest, and between the trees, hundreds of stars are strung. And it’s making me so excited for Christmas, and therefore being in England, like rosy frosty cheeks and crunchy  icy pavements and coats and scarves and mulled wine and mince pies and carols and crossing the road in safety and things starting on time . But then I also realised that I’m really going to miss Colombia too – the people, the new friends, the mountains, the markets, the random fruits, the availabilty of fresh juice, the coffee, the salsa, patacones and the constant sound of laughter despite everything. But missing it means I had a good time right? And I have done. And there are more good times to come!

*International Campaign to Ban Landmines, champion of the Treaty - Nobel Peace Price 1997

**Colombian Campaign to Ban Landmines

Heat, pouring rain and the largest river in the world

Sunrise on the Amazon

Wow, it’s been almost a month since I last wrote, how did that happen?! Since then I’ve been to the southern hemisphere and back! Let me explain…

After 2 weeks back in the office having been away the previous fortnight, Laura and I found we had very little to do. As the Cartagena conference draws ever closer there is of course much to be done, but less of it involving translation, and with another Laura having arrived on her year abroad too, there just wasn’t enough to split between three of us. So Laura C and I went to the Amazon. Well, we had actually booked our flights a few weeks before having checked first, but basically that’s why we went. And because Colombia is a country with Everything, so how can we not make the most of it?*

The flight was 2 hours and for the second hour all we could see out of the window was green. Endless stretching soft green, occasionally broken by a winding river, but from horizon to horizon there were only trees. And stepping off the plane, into the thick wall of heat, we were greeted by the sounds of parrots circling above us and a solitary passport control officer, who was waiting by the door, poised to greet foreigners as they waited for their baggage. This was Leticia, the biggest town on the Colombian side of the Amazon, at 37,ooo inhabitants. It lies at the furthest south-eastern tip of Colombia, where Brazil, Peru and Colombia meet and become one, without borders. Leticia is on the Colombian side, Tabatinga on the Brazilian, and across the river the Peruvian island of Santa Rosa. Three cultures, three currencies, two languages.

The Amazon basin has the most devoloped tourist infrastructure of anywhere in Colombia, and rightly so, there’s a lot to see! With 7 days and a limited budget, Laura and I had to decide how to spend them wisely, which was not easy. All the 2-3 day jungle tours were extremely expensive, and we felt that our money could be better spent on day trips and the 10-hour boat ride to and from Iquitos, Peru – the biggest city in the world unreachable by road, with 500,000 inhabitants. So, decisions made, we headed for Puerto Nariño, 2 hours upstream. Just before the boat was due to leave, there was an almighty storm. The rainy season had arrived. The roads flooded within minutes and we waded to shelter in the booking office, barely kept dry by our raincoats. Huge drops, columns of water, pouring, streaming from the rooftops, thunder: real rain, pure pleasure. This is how it should be done. An hour of beautiful chaos, where the people stop what they are doing to watch as the most welcome of all weather arrives in force. And the calm afterwards is like a sigh, a relief from the oppressive humidity that haunts the daylight hours.

Puerto Nariño is a town of about 500 inhabitants, mostly of the Tikuna tribe, and a hub for tourists in the area. We stayed there 2 nights, the first in cabins about half an hour’s walk from the centre, run by an ex-friar with 3 pet monkeys, a parrot, a cat and 3 dogs. The second night we stayed in a hotel in the town, where the shower was free from other worldly insects and we could make use of the internet that came with the 4 hours of electricity daily. There were 3 other travellers in the town, also staying with us – a Colombian, and a couple who were living in Canada but originally from Germany and New Zealand. Together, we hired a guide and walked for three hours through the jungle to an indigenous village. And the jungle is just how I pictured it: hanging vines, trunks stretching upwards so far that they appear to meet before they touch the sky. Chirrupping chatter floated above us mingling with singsong to create a hubbub that breathed fertility and possibility.

The indigenous village was on the banks of a tributary of the Amazon, and when we arrived there were several people swimming and bathing in the borwn water. All the wooden houses were on stilts, to protect them from the rising river water – after the rainy season the Amazon rises by 15m. We were invited to try the local drink, made of fermented plantane, which was actually quite nice, and we walked around the whole village, greeted by children very used to tourists. There are very few villages living in complete isolation these days, only sticking to traditional methods of living - the people were wearing jeans. But their techniques for cooking and building houses were their own and they were sticking to them.

The return journey was by boat, along the Amazon in a dug-out canoe, with the water lapping the rim. On the way, we saw a school of pink dolphins, leaping out of the water to show off their rosy bellies. We turned off the motor and watched them for a while, frolicking in the sun, unafraid. Completely impossible to photograph, like the butterflies who followed us wherever we went, but memorable.

Back in Leticia the next day, we cycled to Brazil for lunch. Speaking Spanish and getting replies in Portuguese made trying to order vegetarian food for Laura interesting (You’re a vegetarian?? So what do you eat, salad? But you eat chicken right?). And tyring to get directions to a restaurant with a salad bar was a long process involving much gesticulation. But we managed to get some lunch, shading from the scorching heat, and then cycled back to Colombia! We went for another trip later, this time to Kilometro 26, where there is a reserve which offers high rope expeditions and also has a snakery. Thankfully, these were the only snakes we saw, at a safe distance, sleeping, but impressive nonetheless. We climbed the trees, up to the canopy, for a view of dense leaves of all shapes and sizes, and branches and birds and bugs. And the zipwire was so much fun, flying through the treetops in the sunshine.

The boat to Iquitos left at 4am from the Peruvian island of Santa Rosa. We had a mild panic at 3.15am when the key to the hostel broke in the lock and our rickshaw taxi hadn’t arrived, but thank goodness for the German who woke up and lent us his phone and his key so we could get out and away. So we took the rickshaw to the port inTabatinga, Brazil to get a boat taxi so Santa Rosa, Peru - 3 countries in half an  hour! The port was thriving, with 2 boats leaving for Iquitos and taxi drivers, boat taxis and street vendors hustling for business. What a journey. We passed canoes, fishermen, children swimming, small islands, sand bars and all the time surrounded by jungle on the far off banks. I remember thinking, before the sun rose, how symmetrical nature is – the silver of the water reflected the silver arc of the cloudy sky and all the way around the horizon, the sillhouette of the dense forest. Being in the jungle makes you think a lot about nature – there is so much to marvel at, and everything survives, balanced and in its element, evolved to cope perfectly with the situation. And actually I think the people have evolved too – they were just so much less sweaty than I was! Seriously it was pretty gross. After a day’s walking, all you want is a shower, and the minute you step out of it, you need another.

In Iquitos, we did another day’s jungle walk, this time in primary jungle, which was denser, more vine covered and noisier. We saw all manner of butterflies and insects – I got stung by a wasp and it was so painful! We saw birds, monkeys, a caiman and armadillo tracks – but no jaguars, trantualas or poisonous snakes. And we swung from a vine, hicimos Tarzan. We ate a fruit that our guide called guava which hangs from trees in long thin green pods and is furry and sweet. Bizarre, but quite yum! We returned to Leticia the next day, on the 6am boat, this time leaving as the sun rose. It’s amazing how you can spend 10 hours on a boat and hardly notice the time passing, with an ipod for company and the sun on the water.

That day was Halloween, which is big in Colombia. When we got off the boat we were surrounded by children and families, costumed and ready with their little pumpkin pots for treats. But at 9pm the town went quiet and the children dispersed, leaving a lull before the adults came out to party the night away. And on our final day in Leticia we shopped a little, ate ice cream and watched the rain. My conclusions from the trip? It is no coincidence that Amazon and amazing are such similar words!

Since returning to the office, work has been hectic and buzzing. On Tuesday we had a team meeting, the only one we’ve had with everyone present. We discussed what everyone’s going to be doing in Cartagena, and what everyone is doing until then, and I am excited! The three inglesas have been given the task of translating for the 15 survivors going to the conference, funded by Mercy Corps – who are also paying our flights and accomodation! (And we tried to persuade them that we could stay in a hostel, because I definitely feel bad that we’re using charity money, but they are determined we’ll all be together!). Also going to the conference are the four youth delegates from around the country funded by Mines Action Canada, who are running a youth forum alongside. Daniel, who I stayed with in Popayan, is one of them. And they all need to have a reasonably good level of English, since delegates are coming from all over the world, so I now have daily afternoon Skype English conversation classes. It’s been fun, chatting to them, helping them, working on their presentations. So 2 and a half weeks of busy busy and then the Conference!

*Here I would like to quote the Italian photographer Giovanni Diffidenti, newly arrived in Bogota to work with the campaign, meeting landmine victims and documenting their experiences. “Colombia is a country where beauty and horror coexist in inexplicable contrast.” So True.

If you like photography check out his website, it’s ace: www.giovannidiffidenti.com or landmine specific: www.theperfectsoldier.com, and another good one is Gervasio Sanchez.

Dust, UNICEF and ever more ponderings

Here in el Cauca, if you’re travelling somewhere for 8 hours, it’s probably about 100km away. The road will be dusty, the potholes deep and the corners sharp. But the views will be spectacular, and the people so pleased to see you. For the past three days I’ve been visiting countryside towns with Paulo, from the campaign, and Sandra, from UNICEF (who is from Medellín). She is head of the project they have with the campaign developing Mine Risk Education in the 5 highest risk departments in Colombia and was in Popayán all this week to check on progress and move things along. We went to three municipality capitals where they have started, or are about to start, training 30 teachers in MRE and integrating it into the curriculum. But this is no mean feat.

Arriving in San Sebastián at lunchtime after 6 hours of mostly unsurfaced road, we looked like we’d been rolled in breadcrumbs ready for the frier. The wind was strong and the temperature cool, so the natural water shower, although welcome, made me gasp. First we went to meet some recently trained teachers, who although shy at first, were all very keen to bring about change. Equally the head of education for the area, who we met later, was very willing to plan for MRE in the coming year. And this was the case the following day and the next. Motivated local leaders, keen campaign coordinators, willing teachers. But I do wonder how long this will continue when Sandra isn’t there asking questions. I mean I’m sure they want to reduce numbers of accidents and I hope they can see the value of education (personally I think it might be the most important thing) but it just seemed so difficult to get a meeting with them, to get concrete answers, and, most cynically, to find motivation when there’s no extra pay. I don’t know what it is about local teachers and leaders in developing countries, but I noticed it in Africa as well: an affinity for doing the bare minimum. Maybe it’s their gross underpayment, or their low status as a profession (which in itself needs addressing), or maybe it’s that, as women, when they get home they still have to wash the clothes, feed the children and clean the house, but it does mean that education in country schools is not to the highest standard. This is a massive generalisation and I would just like to say that this won’t be true across the developing world, it’s just my experience. Of British teachers compared to Colombian and Ugandan ones. All of them work hard, but their focusses are slightly different.

It was definitely interesting visiting the townships. They looked like typical South America; men on horses in hats and ponchos, children playing in the street with dogs, isolated houses with flowers galore, markets of fruit and vegetables and old women selling sweets. In La Sierra there was a beer festival, with tents and kegs and everything. And I was taken to visit the weekly fruit market, where I discovered even more varieties I’d never seen before. We had to go through the meat section to get there though, and oh the smell. There were cows’ heads, upside down on tables, cut in half, jaws off. Cows’ tails hanging from bars next to ears, and pigs’ trotters being chopped with axes. A chip flew off and hit my shirt, and I wondered if I should in fact be a vegetarian given my disgust. Sorry if you are one, reader, and you just had to get through that bit. Done now.

On the return journey the jeep broke down. The ‘bomba de gasolina’ wasn’t pumping petrol into the engine apparently, which could have been due to dirty petrol bought on the roadside. Luckily, being a Scout, Paulo had various tools, and the driver had a few too, so they set about fixing it while Sandra and I acknowledged our weakness and went to take some photos as the sun got closer to the mountain peaks, casting shadows over the valley. Which in itself was a problem because as well as not being allowed to use public transport, UNICEF workers aren’t supposed to travel after dark. We were an hour and a half from our planned overnight stop, and they worked quickly. And they fixed it and we were off. It got dark and we could see small fires across the mountainside, clearing crops, or started by pyromaniacs, one can only speculate. And we passed no-one. It was a little eery.

I had a great time with Sandra and Paulo. They are full of stories, full of laughter and I enjoyed all the banter! We shared a bottle of rum one night, some beers the next, and got to know each other. And it’s been a great 2 weeks for my Spanish here in the south. I haven’t spoken English to a native speaker at all and I actually do feel a bit more fluent. Although I do have random slips, like the other day when someone said ‘Qué hora tienes?’ and I said ´Half past four’ which was bizarre. And there’s also something weird in the way I keep forgetting this is their mother tongue, they don’t have to think at all when they speak. This is the grammar structure that is natural to them, and Chomsky comes to mind. There are times when I don’t have to think either, but only for short comments and I do wish I could speak faster, like the babble that I can now understand from Colombians. A few people have told me I speak very clearly, which is nice, but equally, I don’t know what they’re comparing me to. When people seem impressed by my Spanish I can never take it seriously because I still use incorrect structures, I still form unnatural phrases and there are still so so many words I don’t know! But I do get my meaning across. What I would love is to be able to hear myself from the point of view of a native speaker, then I would know what I have to do.

Right I’m going to stop there and add some things to Cultural Learnings. Even though I still haven’t mentioned the storytellers, the University fiesta, the Scout fundraising party, the Scouts’ teaching sessions, problems with being a zona roja, the capacitación for Puracé municipality, my excitement at my veeery long journey back to Bogotá… There’s always more to say. But this is enough. Enough now. (Hi sis).

Baths, networking and life lessons

Something that stands out about Colombians in my eyes is how friendly they are. And how willinging to share their time with me. This also means that if I am by myself I am unlikely to be that way for long, since it appears that lonliness is something Colombians fear. And thus my introverted nature suffers somewhat. But this is not something to complain about, rather to hope that I too can learn to be more naturally welcoming. Anyway the reason I bring this up is because being in Popayán has been a series of introductions and invitations.

Last week, Paulo and I went to meet two people, called Clara and Julian, from Patoral Social, another NGO working with mine victims and funded by the German Catholic church. They told me all about what they do, which is similar to the Campaign (CCCM)but involves more direct victim assistance. We went for a gaseosa (fizzy drink) in a nearby cafe and there we met Maira, the Campaign Coordinator for one of the municipalities, who needed to talk to Paulo about a recent victim. She was about 25 I think, as were the 2 Pastoral Social people. In fact everyone in this business seems to be under 35/40, I don’t know what happens after that age..! Anyway (sorry this is turning into a bit of a long story!) the next day I was in town waiting for the Religious Art museum to open (more on that later) so I went to the Juan Valdez café, and there was Clara having a break from work with some of her friends from uni who all work nearby. So we chatted (well they chatted and I added the odd comment) for a while and it was nice. Then yesterday I was in there again and one of Clara’s friends came in with his laptop and came and sat with me and we chatted. He is a music producer and is organising a music festival/competiton that starts next week and runs for the following three. And he asked me if I wanted to sing in it! Alas, I will be back in Bogotá then, but that would have been pretty cool! And all becuase he’s a friend of a friend of a friend. And while we were there 3 or 4 different people came to meet with him, (one of whom owns one of the bars in my guidebook!) so I am getting to be a pro at explaining why I’m here!

But that wasn’t the only product of networking. Maira, who we met to have a gaseosa, phoned Paulo on Friday to see if I wanted to go to the volcanic thermal baths with her on Sunday. Which I did! So we took a colectivo to Coconoco where her family live and her dad drove us to the baths, about half an hour away on an unsurfaced road. The air was suprisingly cold considering how little I’d thought we’d climbed on the way from Popayán, but the water was lovely. There were 2 pools, fed from the volcano, and a water slide too. And no lifeguards, cos who really cares about health and safety anyway. It was full of families from nearby towns, with hundreds of children running around, and I thought how very similar people are across the world, despite everything that separates us.

Last week Miriam took me to visit her school. It’s on the outskirts of Popayán and is fed by a nearby vereda which is home to lots of displaced families. Cauca (the department) has the second highest rate of landmine accidents in Colombia and therefore there is a medium to high guerrilla threat in certain municipalities. So these people come with nothing, and have very little idea of what the future holds. There are not many high ambitions. You know it’s funny, on the news you see refugees in Africa and the Middle East and flooded cities in Indonesia and earthquakes and ruined lives and of course I always think, ‘gosh how awful for them’ or similar, but at the same time there’s something in me that thinks ‘they’re used to it’ and so dismisses it as more of the same news. But how can you be ‘used’ to earthquakes? To flooding? To moving around fleeing for your life? As if you’re expecting it, as if you know ‘this is the type of thing that happens to me, not to someone else’. And why has it taken me so long to realise this?

Anyway, the kids in the school were so full of energy and so full of questions it was amazing. I’m so glad I went. I went first to one of Miriam’s classes of 13 year olds (she teaches Spanish), and she asked me to explain to them why it’s so important to learn English (although I found it a bit difficult to make it completely relevant to them, all I could think of was TV instruction manuals) and then they wanted me to speak some English, so I told them how nice Colombia is etc, using pretty simple vocab I thought. But they had no idea what I said, and when I asked them ‘Entienden?’ (Do you understand?) they all burst out laughing. Then later I went to a class of older kids with the English teacher. They were learning how to use can, can’t, could and couldn’t, through the medium of Mariah Cary songs. The teacher wanted me to help with pronunciation, so I read out the lyrics for them to repeat (they were all very reluctant to speak!) and worried the teacher by my pronunciation of ‘can’t', since she’d learnt the American way. Then they inundated me with questions and wanted me to speak French and Arabic to them and also German, Italian… I wrote some phrases on the board for them and they all copied them down in their books! I had a great time! And on the way home, in the colectivo with Miriam, I thought how it actually wouldn’t be so bad to be a teacher. I wanted to go back to that school again and again to get them more confident, to broaden their horizons, to teach. But to teach in England, well that’s another thing all together. I don’t think I have the confidence. Teachers in England have my utmost respect.

The religious art museum was another example of the friendliness of Colombians. I went one afternoon and was the only person there. So the secuirty guard showed me round! He told me about every single painting and sculpture and it made it a lot more interesting! Because once again this museum was a little lacking in information. I mean for a museum. But it was full of 18th and 19th Century art from Quito, Bogotá and Madrid, reclaimed from the town’s churches to protect it. A pretty impressive collection. But I think this town should recreate its tagline, from the White City, to City of Churches. Because really there are like 50. The other day I went into one to take some pictures and was amazed to see a weekday afternoon mass so full. I took a few pictures, subtly, then realised it was a funeral and promptly left!

Chao for now xx

Scouts, teaching and quite an exciteable Claire

Parque Caldas, Popayan

Now I actually am in Popayán and it’s lovely! The campaign coordinator here is called Paulo and he’s great. So enthustiastic, and very inclusive, and good at his job too. Plus he has 2 adorable children! He also runs a Scout troupe, who are now getting involved with mine action as well. They’ve just started a programme of Mine Risk Education (one of the stipultaions of the Convention that government has kind of ignored) and are spreading the word. They are also sending one person to Cartagena to meet other youths involved in mine action from around the country and the world, which is a scheme funded by Mines Action Canada (which is why only one can go, although it used to be 2 and there were going to be more meetings, but I guess funding was dropped. It’s kind of hard to explain though, when someone is expecting to go to Cartagena and now they can’t because some charity decided to withdraw the money allotted to them. And actually in the Bogotá office I helped Eunice write some persuasaive (and pleading) emails to the Canadians, but it didn’t help much. Anyway, tangent over). I’m staying with the person who is going and his family, his name is Daniel, and his mother, Miriam is lovely. Her and her mother have been cooking for me the whole time I’ve been here, they are so generous!

But let’s go back to chronological order. Last week we continued to have very little to do in the office (except for one morning of phoning around the embassies in Bogotá to see who was coming to a breakfast meeting the next week, which was rather exciting actually! But in the Norwegian embassy, firstly I didn’t know how to pronounce the ambassador’s name and I though it was a man’s name but it was actually a woman’s, plus the secretary started talking to me in English. Damn my accent! And the good education system of Scandinavian countries!). So to combat this lack of activity we did some fun fun things in the evenings AND… booked flights to go the Amazon!! The Actual Amazon! Very excited! On Thursday we went for drinks with a Belgian girl Laura met when she came to Popayán, and we met a guy who she’d been in America with and his workmates, so it was a  jolly evening. The Belgian girl, Nathalie and her German housemate (both of whom speak excellent Spanish and never once went into English ) are on an awesome Master’s programme where you do one term in 3 different universities around the world, no matter your country of origin. There are no participating UK universities, but Dublin is in, plus one in most European countries… they went to Holland, Bilbao and Bogotá! Cool huh. Then on Friday evening, I found something for us to see at the theatre. (There’s not that much choice, I think there’s only about 7 things on at any one time, most of them in translation. But theatre is growing in popularity I believe, which is great. In fact at one of the forums someone suggested doing Mine Risk Education through more modern forms, like theatre!) So anyway, what I found was a new translation by a Colombian musician and producer of Oliver! She had had to have many meeting at Cameron Makintosh to get the rights and eventually Claude-Michel Schoenberg’s son approved it. It was ace. Their costumes were just right and the set was really impressive (especially considering the cheapness of the tickets!). The dancing was very similar to the film, and all the songs were very true to their originals. I could obviously follow the story, but the Spanish was understandable and it was interesting to see how they’d translated everything – they managed to squeeze a lot of syllables in to the melodies!

I got an overnight bus on Saturday to Popayán, which was uneventful. (In that I didn’t sleep much as is my wont!) Paulo met me at the bus station with Daniel and we went to Daniel’s house. That afternoon Daniel and his girlfriend took me around Popayán, showing me all the sights. It’s great to have locals show you their home town, and especially this one cos there are a lot of stories to tell! Popayán has the most important Holw Week procession in all of Colombia, so it’s a pretty Catholic place (one of the roundabouts has a statue of Jesus on the cross!). There are 8 churches in the small centre, all decorated better than any other churches I’ve been in here, and with large statues that go out on floats during the processions. All the buildings in the centre are white and it’s really pretty. Plus everyone seems to know each other, it’s like Durham!

On Monday Paulo and I went to a nearby vereda (village/hamlet) to start the Mine Risk Education (MRE) of 12 teachers, who will each train 2 more teachers, who will all teach 5 parents and 20 kids minium. Well I say nearby, it actually took 2 and a half hours to get there. We went first in a colectivo to El Tambo, the main town of the municipality (an aside – Colombia is divided into departments, which are divided into municipalities, which are divided into veredas), then we got a shared jeep with a few teachers from there. I would guess it was about 50km from Popayán altogether, and I think we were going about 20-30k most of the time, although I couldn’t tell because working milometers are  not a priority here (and the mileage of the jeep we were in was stuck on 429,063.7, for those who are interested (hi Dad)). The potholes in the road were so deep that it looked like a mountain range, or maybe the Cotswolds. But it was an interesting journey, we passed lots of country folk, out and about at 6am, plus a few workers with machetes who got a free ride from us by sitting on the roof. (No idea how they stayed on, I had to hold on most of the time to stay put!) We eventually arrived at the school, shaken like a polaroid picture, and met teachers who had come from 2 hours in the opposite direction, and those who worked in the village. It was very small, consisting of about 20 houses. I was also taken to see a foundation for children who lived far from the village, where they could stay during the week to save them having to walk 2 hours every morning and night, which was reasonably new and run by a lovely couple who had just made a video to be put on the internet to advertise for more funding. For the MRE, UNICEF had provided teaching materials, including games, pictures, flash cards… They were well thought out. And the teachers loved playing (Mine-related) Snakes and Ladders, it was so bizarre that they had never seen it before! And every time someone landed on a snake there was much groaning and gleeful laughter. I think the session went really well, and we’ll return next week to finish off. But I do find it really quite surprising how much needs telling, how much they don’t already know. Because it’s not a new problem by any means. Sure there are some new-ish developments, like the use of household objects as mines, which is the cruelest form of ‘defence’ I have heard of. I think it’s more than ‘indiscriminate’ (the accepted definition of a mine). They use dolls, footballs, radios, jerrycans… And schools say there’s no room for MRE in the timetable, which also seems a tad strange, since their final exams seem to be less significant than ours… and surely this is a matter of public health and safety?! It’s a shame the government would rather buy 2 helicopters than provide teaching materials for a hundred schools. I can imagine in England this would take the form of PSE lessons, but instead of a policeman coming to tell us what to do if we think we’re being followed, it’d be a soldier to tell us how to recognise minefields. But it’s not something that comes naturally – I mean compared to ‘Don’t talk to strangers’ for the reserved British, ‘Don’t go and investigate interesting and attractive looking objects’ doesn’t really have the same ring to it for a curious country-dwelling child.

The Scouts’ MRE programme started on Wednesday evening, aimed at other Scout leaders so that they can teach their Scouts, and then take it into schools. There was a meeting on Tuesday evening at Paulo’s house to plan, which I went along to. And I was really excited by the doors this was opening for them. And for Daniel especially, when he comes to Cartagena. Thank goodness for people like Paulo.

More on this another time, I want to go into town and not sit at this computer anymore.

Cultural Learnings and Bogotanisms

In no particular order

• It is not acceptable to bang the door to close it. Use the key. Taxi drivers do not trust people to clos their doors, so they do it for them.
• On the bus, hold on with both hands or you Will fall over.
• It is universally acknowledged that binmen will come while you are trying to sleep. Here, everyone gets up at 5, so the binmen come at midnight.
• If you want to make a phonecall and you don’t have your mobile, don’t look for a phone box, look for a Minutos Celular person. They stand with a tall sign proclaiming their prices, and they have 4 or 5 phones attached to their jackets by chains. There’s at least 2 on every corner.
• If you go to a party with your boyfriend, you have to stay with him the whole time. Do not, under any circumstances, talk to your friends, you’re not there for them. And your boy/girlfriend will be offended.
• Colombian relationships are very intense. Clingy, you could say. And there are young couples everywhere.
• People have children very young. I’ve been asked several times if I have any children, and I met a 24-year old who has 3. He is by no means the exception.
• Abortion is ilegal under all circumstances. Divorce, however, is reasonably common.
• Women very much retain their traditional roles. So much so that there are separate women’s groups for mine action.
• Apparently, the British have beer for breakfast.
• Actually though, Colombians are lightweights.
• In Cartagena, where there is a large black population, there are clubs that refuse entry to black people.
• The main meal of the day is lunch. So everyone at work cooks in the morning and brings it in tupperware to be heated in the microwave. Therefore I do this too. (Except I cook the night before.) They found the idea of sandwiches for lunch hilarious.
• You see people sitting on the roadside eating plates of food with kives and forks, takeaway Colombian style. Rice, meat, beans, avacado, standard.
• FRUIT JUICE. Freshly squeezed, readily available, good price, Yum. And there are so many crazy fruits here that are just never seen in Europe and don’t have translations. My fave is Lulo, as a juice. There’s also guanábana, guayaba, feijoa, níspero, zapote, granadilla (which they don’t make a juice of for some reason, but it’s good) to name but a few. Google pictures, they look funky.
• They like their cakes here. I thought they would be a luxury of the rich, but shops are not limited to Usaquén, nor even Bogotá, they’re everywhere. Although Usaquén does have a particularly fine selection.
• You can buy coffee in small plastic shot-glass type things from street vendors with carts of thermoses, offering a variety of concotions, anywhere and everywhere. Most common is tinto, black coffee with lots of sugar. And only 200 pesos, that’s about 6p.
• It’s fine to answer your phone in a meeting.
• As well as kids called Jesus, and Josephmary (Josémaría), in Ecuador there are some called Hitler.
• Pictures of corpses are acceptable in newspapers, or even expected. Today I read a story about a dorwned boy and there was a picture of his body, still wet, accompanying the article. I find it a bit disconcerting.
• When the plane lands there is an almost imperceptible general sigh of relief and much signing of the cross. Also when buses arrive at their destination the person I’m sitting next to frequently does the sign of the cross.
• (When I was flying to Cúcuta we were delayed by half an hour. The pilot eventually announced that it was becuase there were dogs on the runway. There was much barking and howling in the plane after that.)
• People always introduce themselves with their full name – as in first name, middle name, father’s surname, mother’s surname. Which makes it a bit difficult to remember their name becuase of the jumble of sound that it needs to be extracted from. (mmmm – that’s my excuse anyway!)
• Children ask for a blessing before bed instead of saying goodnight. Older generations find it offensive if their grandchildren don’t ask them for a blessing. (This is even more evident in Venezuela.)
• Every morning I say ‘gracias’ about 7 times before I get to my desk, and the response is always ‘a la orden’ (at your service) – The portera of the apratment for locking the door after me, the bus driver when he gives me change, the person sitting next to me on the bus for letting me pass, the guard who opens the door of the office block, the lift operator (possibly most  boring job in the world?) when he presses 8th floor on seeing me and Laura, the lift operator on arrival at the 8th floor, whoever opens the office door for us.
• Geography, it appears, is not necessarily on the school curriculum. I’ve had questions like, “Is the UK part of the USA?”, “Is Scotland near England?”, “Is Great Britain an island?” “So do you actually live in England, or another town?” I mean I know it’s far away and speaks another language, but still.
• The sense of humour is definitely different. Well different to mine anyway. They like a lot of slapstick and physical humour, which I just don’t find funny. Also in conversation they find things hilarious that I would just guffaw at, but I have to laugh heartily or else I seem rude! But they are laughing all the time, which is lovely.
• Cool kids wear rosaries.
• Despite having very few homemade TV shows, there are way more ads. They put little boxes with ads in them for a few moments periodically throughout each programme, but particularly football matches. (Which are expensive to show I’m sure.) Although I get the impression that the UK does have particularly few adverts.
• The Trisha of Colombia is a Catholic Priest.

 

Ways to earn a living (or scrape by):

• Juggle. Stand at the front of the traffic jam at the lights and entertain, don’t wash windscreens. The best I’ve seen so far is 3 guys standing on each others’ shoulders juggling fire.
• Sell your wares in traffic jams. You never know when someone might think, as they wait for green, ‘oh look that’s just what I need, a kite. Or a padded apron.’
• Sell your wares in buses. And tell us all about why you’re forced to do it, that will definitely increase your earnings. Works for me. (So far I have not seen 2 people selling the same thing, and pretty much every day someone gets on to sell stuff.)

To be continued…

Jazz, dynamite and rooms of sparkling ancient gold

So, I’m not in Popayán, I’m still in Bogotá. Having arranged to meet Paulo, the local campaign co-ordinator who I’ll be staying with, off the bus on Sunday morning, Álvaro then phoned to say he got the dates wrong and we were actually going the following weekend. This made me think there must be something he wanted us to do in the office this week, but so far, and it’s Wednesday, there has been little to nothing to do and no-one to ask becuase everyone seems mega busy. So a little dull, but I have passed the time of course. On Monday I bought three newspapers, on Tuesday I learnt some vocab and corrected a translation that Florian did and now is now and I’m doing this. And in a minute I’m going to look for something to go and see at the theatre on Friday, and read some more of the book ‘Vidas Minadas’ (Mined Lives) which is by a French photographer and is good. Oh but WOW María Inés (office admin) just came over and gave me a shiny new exciting stationery supply! 8 items to play with, yes please!

So Saturday, I spent the day in Usaquén, pottering about. I had a YUM café and brownie in Juan Valdez, Starbucks of Colombia (but actually tastes nice, and supports local coffee growers… and I heard on the grapevine that it’s buying out some of Starbucks’ stores in the US to help it out…apparently they’re also auditioning for the new face of Juan Valdez, I think the requirement is you have to have a donkey). Anyway, I’m certainly enjoying all the coffee here And it’s so cheap in cafés!

That evening Sebastián from the office invited us to a Tejo Club so we went along intrigued. It turned out to be a game where you throw 1-2kg metal discs at a soft clay rectangular target about 10m away, and the aim is make one of the four little traingles of dynamite explode and land your disc (tejo) in the centre circle. It was well fun! I, alas, did not cause any explosions, but I did land it in the centre a few times to make our team win, woo! Shoes covered in clay dust and clothes smelling of dynamite, we played for hours, leaving a table full of empty Aguila bottles behind us. One thing I will say for Colombian bars, although they have a reasonably narrow range of drinks avaiable, they keep their beer good and cold.

Having a whole weekend in Bogotá, Laura and I decided to visit one of the many museums. In our first week we went to an Andy Warhol exhibtion, which was really good, it seemed to have most of his life’s work. The art here is actually really well done, that and music seem to me to be the most important art forms – newspapers don’t have theatre or film reviews (or none that I can find), but they do have interviews with musicians and articles about new exhibitions. Anway, the museum we chose was the Gold Museum, a standard on the tourist route of Colombia, which contrary to what I expected was not just reams and reams of gold objects and jewellery, it was in fact full of ancient artefacts, some clay, some copper, some silver, but yes mostly gold. It was a history of the ancient civilisations of Colombia. There was one room that was completely dark when we went in, then they shut the door. A long, religious sounding chant started up and lights flashed around the room illuminating objects hanging around the walls and a circular display in the floor of layer upon layer of shiny gold items lit up like the moon on water. It was a room imitating a ritual that used to be carried out  on a lake near Bogotá where they would throw their gold into it to pray for good weather and harvest. A well done museum.

We went to the cinema in the evening for the first time, although I can’t say there’s anyting remarkaly different about Colombian cinemas. We watched The Reader, which was really excellent. Unfortunately they only dub mainstream and kids films, and apparently Oscar-winning doesn’t count as mainstream so it was subtitled, but stil more Spanish than none. And I probably got more out of it not having to concentrate on understanding the words. Scenes still keep popping into my head now, which is what defines for me a good film, I highly recocmend it. The cinematography was beautiful, the acting sublime and the story bittersweet.

Last night we went to a Jam Session. We weren’t sure what type of music it would be and we didn’t know how mandatory our participation would be either, but we went on a reccomendation of someone we met… actally that’s good story I’ll tell it. ..

Having just arrived in Bogotá Laura and I conduted a thorough search for a choir to sing in while we’re here. I eventually found a MySpace page of a choir and we got in touch with them. They were very enthusiastic about our interest and we arranged to visit the choir master’s house to have an audition the following week. So we went along (after negotiating the bus system, and stopping to ask for directions from a man selling flowers who gave us each a rose!) and to meet Manuel and sing for him in his living room which was quite nerve-wracking but fun too actually. And he told us all about his choir and we realised we perhaps should have done a little more research because the choir was like a Colombian version of Graham Kendrick crossed with white gospel and they TWO sets of different coloured robes that they wear when busking or performing. I mean sure, it would have been really fun to have sung with such enthustiastic people and learn some Colombian Christmas carols, but the deciding factor was that they rehearse on Saturday afternoons and we knew even then that we would rarely be around at weekends. Then a couple of days later we came upon a music school just near where we live, so we popped in one afternoon to see if they could help. There were 3 people there, all of whom looked about 19, and they were pleased we had called in.  I could hear a beginner violin lesson and saw lots of pianos and felt a pang of regret at not having brought my violin (although in acutal fact I still wouldn’t have had a lot of use for it, having been away so much). They were very keen to help with our strange request and gave us the details of one of the universities’ choirs, offered us a free rumba lesson on Saturday and told us about the Jam Sessions on Tuesdays. I do love musicians.

The Jam Session turned out to be a live jazz bar, where after the first two acts anyone could go up and play. The first band were really good, I enjoyed their set a lot. The singer had a smoky voice that floated over the cymbal wash and the basist and drummer had attitude. But after that it kind of went downhill. And I learnt that I dislike jazz guitar. I mean don’t get me wrong, they were all very talented, lots of saxophonists played, a trumpeter, pianists, and all the bassists and drummers were excellent, but it seemed to like a continuous self-indulgent stream of notes that weren’t going anywhere, and well I was a little bored, can you tell? Needless to say we didn’t contribute – Laura had been planning to sing something and I would have quite liked to as well but it would have been hard to get a not in edgeways!

Nearly everyone there was a student or teacher of jazz at one of the universities, and we met one guy who introduced himslef as Philip and persistnetly spoke in English despite my replies in Spanish. And it is more difficult than you may imagine to continue speaking a foreign language when someone is speaking your own at you, but I tried my best. Dammit though English is a curse when you’re trying to learn another language. I serioulsy believe it puts us at a disadvantage, speaking the lingua franca of the world, there are so many fewer oppourtunities to avoid contact with it. Everyone who has even an inkling leaps at the opportunity to practise with a native speaker and I wish I could tell them that I’m German so that they stop but it just gets so complicated because what if they’ve been to Germany or speak German or I’m actually going to know them for longer than one conversation? Laura and I did tell one man in Usaquén that we are Swedish and it turned out that he owns a pretzel restaurant there and he knows the EU representative in Colombia or something and he’d love for us to meet him.. so we’ll be avoiding pretzels. Anyway Philip-who-is-actually-Felipe is an self-proclaimed up-and-coming rock guitarist and was extraordinarily keen that we listen to his album, which we duly did and he was indeed pretty good. And we also met a guy who has a room in his house which is ‘acoustically built’ and puts on chamber music concerts there, and has one tonight of one of the jazz pianists who is from Argentina. I would be quite keen to go usually but I think I might be a bit jazzed out so I’ll probaly go to salsa class instead. But I’m excited that there is so much oging on in Bogotá, this is a good place to be based. Although I’m also excited about going to Popayán for three weeks!

Oops, this was supposed to be short, sorry.

Views, memories and steep learning curves

Northern Medellin Metrocable

My heart was beating louder than any voices in the room, and my breathing was shallow. But I had to think fast and I had to concentrate. I had to listen, retain, translate, speak, acknowledge understanding, repeat. I was interpreting for an Australian called Sheree and it was scarier than any audition or interview I can remember. Previously I had always thought I worked well under pressure, I feel like I can think quite clearly when other people are scared, but that day, last week, interpreting for the first time in my life with no time to prepare and only 3 weeks’ experience on the topic, my mind was in a kind of turmoil. There was just too much to think about at the same time. And usually I don’t like making excuses, or blaming my inexperience, age or naivety, but in this instance I think I have to, or I may lose all the self respect that I have mustered. Alvaro came to ask me to come and help him with something and I thought it was going to be translating a short email like I had done before, but I got to his office and it was full of people, half of whom I had never met. Already feeling a bit nervous about the unknown task ahead I introduced myself to Sheree and we chatted for a few minutes, and she was very  nice, a gentle lady, with a soft accent. Made me miss Australia again, a recurring problem here! It was an important meeting: Sheeree was in Colombia for a week to work out some key issues that need to addressed at the conference, and that day she was discussing with Alvaro, head of the campaign, Diana, head of the Mercy Corps mine project in Colombia, various people from the president’s programme for mine action, plus other people from the campaign, what they felt could be gained from the conference for Colombia, and what was being neglected. First of all we went round the table introducing ourselves, which was very manageable to interpret for her. Then she asked her questions and I relayed them to the team, which was also fine because she paused to give me time so I didn’t have to talk over her. The first person to respond had a reasonably clear accent, as most people in Bogota do, and I was actually doing OK, I understood what he was saying and Sheree wrote down what I told her. But one of his points had a word in it that I misheard and translated wrongly. The programme has ‘big gaps’, not ‘a strong basis’. A few people leapt in to correct me and it turned out that at least 4 of them had better English than my Spanish, and that was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

So after that, one of the people from the president’s programme translated the last few points and then Alvaro began to speak. And he didn’t pause at all, he just kept going and going and I expected the president’s delegate to take over again but she didn’t, and Sheree kept nodding and smiling so I thought she had been being modest about her Spanish. But then she and Alvaro both turned to me with eyebrows expectant and I said “Er, do you want me to start from the beginning?” Fool. And she replied “Just from the bit about what Mercy Corps’ project is” (which was the beginning) and so I said a couple of points but I just could not remember everything that he’d said, and I couldn’t ask him to repeat it and then the same delegate took over again. She could somehow remember everything he had said. Maybe she already knew it though. So the conversation continued and I was now redundant, having missed my chance to redeem myself. During the rest of the meeting, although desperately wanting to try and make up for my mistakes so they didn’t leave with the impression of myself I had inadvertently created, I couldn’t get a word in edgways. Or perhaps I didn’t have the confidence. Either way, I rejected all future plans of working in NGOs, the UN or the foreign office and settled on becoming a journalist before the following hour was through. But now, with the blessing of time gone by and the healing (though frustrating) power of hindsight, I’ve realised that as I learn, practise and grow up, situations like that will get ever easier to handle and someday I’ll breeze into a room, chat to someone in one language, turn and chat to someone else in another and know what I’m talking about the whole time. Someday. Until then, I will certainly not be forgetting the word for ‘gap’. Vacío.

And actually Alvaro was lovely afterwards, he told me it was all a process of training and he throws me into situations like these so I will learn and gain experience. And wow I did learn a lot, it was a really interesting meeting. The Mercy Corps project in Colombia is apparently the best funded single NGO project in any one country in the world. They are focussing on victim assistance, which is something that needs a lot of work here; it’s not really a government priority. Nine months ago in an (unmarked, unrecognised) minefield to the south of Bogota a man was killed in a landmine accident. And his body is still there, despite pleas from his sister to have it removed. The government says it’s not its responsibility, the army says it’s not its, the paramilitaries ditto, the police ditto. No-one wants to get their hands dirty, to spend money on risks to relieve a lowly peasant’s family’s grief. It’s probably true that had the victim been rich, attention would have been much swifter. The campaign and Mercy Corps have decided to take the matter into their own hands and get the body themselves, which they will hopefully do soon. Really though, it’s not a matter of money, but obligation, not charity, but rights. (Although having said this I feel like the campaign’s waiting nine months is also not great…) The conference is about getting governments to develop achievable action plans, to monitor progress and to make noticeable improvements to living conditions. And although Colombia has made certain steps forward, there is still so much, so so much that is lacking. There is no system for registering victims, for providing follow-up care to people who are forced to leave their homes becuase of the fighting, for helping families cope. There is no guaranteed marking system for de-mined areas, and no guarantee that they haven’t been re-mined by the non-state groups who don’t care about the law. And there’s no national education system that provides teaching on the risk of landmines and what to do in an emergency, or how to avoid accidents. Certain municipalities have better facilities than others, and some provide a good education on the subject, but this is not thanks to the government, it is due to the work of NGOs and charities. All of this I didn’t hear in that one meeting, but it was laid out plainly there, collaborating all that I’ve heard at the forums. And there’s still more to learn, always.

The rest of last week involved translations and website design. The English version of the campaign website is now up and running – you can access it here if you’re interested!

http://www.colombiasinminas.org/index.php?page=english-version

And a forum in Villavicencio, Meta, 3 hours’ drive from Bogota. Laura and I were picked up at 5am by Alvaro’s driver, and we left Bogota as the sun rose. The descent from 2600m to around 1000m was a spectacualr one – the mountains were so steep and they were peppered with waterfalls and covered with trees. Everywhere. And I love trees. I don’t mean in the hippy hugging way, I mean in the green mountain, distant forest, white trunk, thin trunk, long branch, small leaf, tall short dense dappling, spreading, bending, reaching, leaning, sprawling way. Amazing. The road passed through several roadside villages, full of people selling their wares and houses reminiscent of African towns. I don’t know what it is about being away from home but wherever I go I see similarites with places I have been before, underneath the individual uniqueness. And on that drive I was reminded of Uganda. All the houses we passed were painted by one company or another, with its logo somewhere near the door – blue for Comcel (mobile phones), red for Coca Cola, green for Tigo (mobile phones)… And the roofs were all corrugated metal, like any medium-sized town in Uganda. But I digress.

The forum was once again interesting and informative. This is a world of tragedy and hope I’m in and while I slightly worry I’ll become immune or insenitive to disaster after disaster after heart-wrenching pain after life-changing accident, the determination of these people to carry on, to seek what they deserve and prevent happening again what they wish with all their hearts they had avoided, is quite inspirational.

There’s a photo of the forum (with the back of my head in the foreground to the left, next to Laura…) at this website, which belongs to the 14 NGOs running the lead-up to Cartagena: www.gto14.org

This week, on Monday (today is Thursday) the forum was in Antioquia, the department with the most landmines, the capital of which is Medellín, cocaine cartel capital of the world. I went last Friday, this time by bus, and Florian, the Swiss guy from the office, came too. (Laura had gone to Popayan to the conference there and met us on Sunday.) We took a bus, which took 10 hours, winding down the (gloriously tree-covered and waterfall cascaded) mountains, accross the valley and up again to the city of eternal spring. It was, thankfully a very comfortable bus, with extreme air conditioning as always in buses here, and the roads are actually pretty good, but slow becuase of all the bends and the lorries. I got in touch with Susy, who I had stayed with when I came on the orchestra tour 3 years ago, and we went to a concert in the Jazz Festival together. It was good to see her again, although conversation was a little slow after so long apart and with only 3 days’ shared experience in our past.

On Saturday we walked around the centre of Medellín, went to the City museum, which has a large collection of Botero paintings and sculptures, as he was born there. He’s probably Colombia’s best known artist, and has a very recognisable style. I enjoyed the museum a lot. And in the square outside there are fifteen or so large Botero statues, which were cool! We also visited the cathedral, various squares… the usual. Medellín is the only city in Colombia with a metro system and it runs very smoothly, making it very easy to get around. It’s built on raised tracks, rather than underground, so provides good views, and has two main lines, plus two cable car lines. These were put in to provide access to the centre for the poorer communities who live on the outskirts of town, up the mountains, and is an excellent way to travel! We took the one in the north of the city to the top and the views were great!

On Sunday we visited the Botanical Gardens, which I wouldn’t normally do on a 2-day trip to a city but I’m really glad we did because it provided the hub for the book festival which was taking place. Which also made entry free! Now, I’ve heard a lot of complaints about what the government provides, how people have to pay for healthcare and education and they don’t cre about rural areas, but I have to say, in the cities of this country the cultural offerings are rich and vibrant. And usually free. Strange priorities I agree, but certainly music, art and literature are excellent expressions of character and opinion and they also offer an outlet for suffering. At the gardens there were lots of stalls selling books and loads of activities for children. But what really sticks in my mind is the exhibition called “Un Paseo por la Memoria”. It was a walkway displaying videos, testimonials, letters, drawings and photos recounting stories of people kidnapped in Antioquia, by their family members. Most of them are still missing but some have returned and recorded their experiences. It really was touching.  They’ve published 3 books, which are free, but they had none left so I have started a determined search for them because, I don’t know, I want to know more. Suspended grief seems like one of the most difficult emotions to deal with. They gave me a bookmark and on it, it says “Recordar es volver a pasar por el corazón” (roughly, ‘Remembering means letting them pass through the heart once again’. That’s rubbish sorry, it’s hard!) I wonder if writing these accounts has helped people.

Aside from books and memories at the gardens, we also saw a large multi-coloured iguana, lots of butterflies and birds and a varitey of unlabelled plants (bizarre I know). After that we went back to the centre to meet Laura and in the evening we went to the happening suburb of El Poblado to have dinner, which was thriving even on a Sunday – streets and streets of restaurants and bars spilling onto the pavements, it was cool! And then early the next morning we got a bus to Cocorná where the forum was, a small town about 2 hours’ drive away, with once again very friendly (and inquisitive) residents.

The forum was similar to the others, with a few new points being raised but mostly the same problems. Afterwards we were introduced to a lady who works for the British NGO, Mine Action Group (MAG) who do de-mining in several countries. They are looking to start a project in Colombia, but need to see what is being done already as they never leap in and say ‘no this is how you do it,’ which I admire. She told us about Bosnia’s de-mining and education strategy, which is so impressive I don’t know why everyone hasn’t copied them. After the war there were more landmines than people in the country but they have one of the lowest numbers of victims, because no-one ever walks off unmarked tracks, and main roads, schools and playgrounds were cleared as a matter of urgency. But it is flat and the war is over and there is no cocaine and maybe there are fewer people living in the middle of no-where. I read the other day that the UN estimates that it will take 1,000 years to clear the world’s mines, and MAG recognises this, so unlike many NGOs rather than working towards a mine-free world, they are working to eliminate the risk. And for them it’s all about community liaison – working with the popultaion to achieve their and your aims.

That was the last forum we went to, there’s another tomorrow but we decided not to go becuase, for the next 3 weeks we are going to be away from Bogotá, Laura in Antioquia, and me in a department in the south called Cauca, staying in Popayán, a pretty town all painted white. I’m still not entirely sure what I’ll be doing, but I believe I’ll be working with a group of youths who are coming to Cartagena to the youth conference that is running parallel to the treaty one and to which youth from all over the world will be coming. So for this they need to know some English and I think I’ll be teaching them. But really, who knows, this is Colombia.

We returned from Medellín on Tuesday and so were back in the office on Weds. There’s been less to do this week, but I formatted and edited some translations so they can used in the bulletin that they’re putting on the RSS feed on the website, so that was quite fun! And Weds night Laura and I went to a salsa class, which was very fun! I am quite terrible, but actually not as bad as I thought I would be, although I probably look a bit stupid, not having the hips for it yet. Hopefully I’ll learn! There’s another class Friday so we’re going to that too, yay! Afterwards on Wednesday we went to meet Kim, the girl we met at Salsa al Parque, in the bar she works in. After it closed we went to a salsa bar round the corner and danced the night away, which was jolly. Kim is determined to teach us though, but she tries so many different steps I can’t keep up or remember them at all, and after the class it was like going from Twinkle to Gossec Gavotte in one fell swoop. But fun nonetheless and when we get back to Bogotá I’m sure we’ll go again.

Well, once again I seem to have proven that I can’t write a short blog, or perhaps that I should do this more often. I should probably go back and edit it, but it’s taken so long, I’m afraid it’s going to stay this length! Congratulations if you have got this far! There are so many small things I want to say and sometime, (perhaps when I haven’t been doing so much!) I will write down the small details of living in the capital of Colombia and in a culture alien, but not wholly, to my own.

Much love xx

Mines, meetings and touching stories

Carmen Forum

Each time I think about what I’m doing here and the perspectives I’m getting to see I am amazed that it’s all real. I mean, gee I’m working with an NGO that’s organising an international conference and I’m meeting people whose lives are affected by war and by bad politics and talking to people who are working so hard to help them and going unappreciated because what they can do is not enough. And it’s only been 3 weeks.

The first forum in Carmen de Bolivar was very successful. (I’m calling them forums because that is the direct translation from the Spanish ‘foro’ but I think in English we would probably use a different word. I just haven’t thought what it is yet. Becuase they’re not meetings or conferences or brainstorms…) It was held in a community centre in the centre of the town, which was small, but thriving. Everywhere we went there were people out and about, lots of them plying their trade in the main square next to the church.  And all eyes were in us at all times. I wondered when the last white people had been there, because it felt as if we were on show, a display of Otherness. A pair of women said, as they were passing about 2 metres away from us, ”Mira, dos gringas!” (Look, 2 Americans!) I also wondered if word had spread, and the town was even more bustling than usual as people came to get a glimpse of the foreigners. Certainly in the forum several people asked us where we were from and what we were doing there. And twice the TV camera zoomed in on us, as we were taking notes, then panned out to cover the whole room. Because they broadcast the forum on national TV so that anyone could participate. They had a live phoneline and three people spoke to us that way, from different parts of the country. I was actually very impressed with the teching, it ran really smoothly and looked very professional. And the techies made me laugh because they were just the same as British techies - there are traits that cross international boundaries!

Three things stood out for me that should be the focus of aidworkers in the near future, after listening to testimonies from members of the 70 people who attended the first forum.

1. Clearer signing of areas that have been de-mined so that people can return to their home safe in the knowledge of their security. And conversely, clearer signing of areas that are still a danger.

2. Support for family members of victims too, because their lives are affected dramatically, whichever family member it is who has been injured or killed.

3. Better co-ordination between the NGOs in their mine risk education programmes, their de-mining initiatives and their victim assistance. It seems very inconsistent.

I remmeber thinking, in the first week when I was reading all the documents to hand in the office to buikd up background knowledge before starting on translations, that there are a lot of NGOs involved in this, and local governments too, and it’s no wonder prgoress is so slow when there are so many administrations trying to organise it. In my opinion what they need are fewer, larger organisation, where the beurocracy would be lessened and the action could be more of a focus. I don’t mean to suggest that action isn’t the focus, and that admin is all that gets done, but I really feel that surely it’s insanely inefficient to have so many small groups trying to help. And in theory the Campaign (CCCM – Campaña Colombiana Contra Minas, who I’m with) should be the umbrella organisation that provides the co-ordination that is necessary, but it doesn’t seem to have worked out that way. Probably through lack of funding. Standard.

So, after the forum Laura, Jairo and I drove back to Cartagena, then wandered around the old town for a while waiting for our flight. It’s really pretty, full of colonial buildings with balconies and flowers, I’m looking forward to spending a week there. I spent Thursday in the office writing up my report of the main points made, then translating the minutes into English (I didn’t write them though! Although I did discover I hadn’t actually missed that much, only a couple of points, so I was pleased!).

My flight to Cucuta left at 6am on Friday morning. When I arrived I phoned Jairo to find out where I needed to go, but then the people from Mercy Corps, whose office is on the floor below ours, came over and we shared a taxi. This forum was in the Centre for Rehabilitation in Cucuta, so there were more healthcare people present this time. And there were more victims too. One man, who was the first to raise his point, was blind and had no hands. Another woman who spoke had a 2 year old daughter who was a victim of a landmine, I think she lost a limb. And there were several people in wheelchairs and on crutches.

The points raised this time, although similar to those in Carmen, revealed deeper problems. De-mining has been much less of a priority and there appears to be a massive lack or funding in all areas, but particularly victim assistance. The blind man said he had received no aid whatsoever is his rehabilitation. Another problem was the lack of support in entering the world of work for victims – discrimination is rife. You could really tell the difference that the impact of the Conference was having. In Cartagena’s department, Bolivar, they have made a real effort to improve conditions, but where the prospect of an international audience is not a threat, the funding suffers, and thus progress is slow. Maybe this is another problem with having so many NGOs – they can’t focus the funding where it needs to go, or use resources rallying the local government.

Sitting by myself before it began a man in a wheelchair came to me and struck up a conversation (I did stand out somewhat again). His name was Miguel and he worked for the alcalde (mayor/city council) and was also the president of a foundation linking all the associations in the city for people with dissabilites. He had invited anyone who wanted to come from the various associations, so there was a deaf man there, and an interpreter, plus a couple of people who were born with disabilities. At the end of the forum I was standing waiting for Jairo to finish sorting out the accounts so we could go and get some lunch and Miguel called me over. He was with the sign language interpreter and she invited me to their associatio meeting which was that evening. It was actually impossible for me to say, they have this knack the Colombians, so I agreed to go and Miguel would pick me up from my hotel (which I hadn’t actually booked yet). Then he left and a man of about 65 who struggled to walk (and clearly aslway had done) came over to talk to me. He asked me how old I was and then said I was very young to be so important. I told me of course I wasn’t important at all, I was just observing, and he said, “No you are, you’re representing your country. You’re the first foreigner I’ve met and I’m so proud to have had this opportunity.” He proceeded to tell me a large part of his life story, how he hadn’t been able to walk until he was 6, how he’d left school 3 years early, how his Mum died 12 ago before leaving him alone. How he used to curse his disability, until he met a man who had never seen the sun because he couldn’t get out of bed and now he thanks God every day for his luck. And now, having met me, he would always be happy because he knows that people come from so far away to help Colombia and people like him. Understandably I was lost for words. Even had it been in English.

On the way to get lunch with Jairo we stopped in at the TV station to pick up the recording of the forum. I chatted to the staff there while he was sorting out, the usual how are you finding Colombia, the weather, the people, what are you doing here, and also this time, what is haggis made of (?!). They all became very concerned when I said I’d be staying the night there alone and recommended me a hotel they knew that was nearby and gave me a phone number if I needed anything. Which was very kind! But did make me a little worried, since I was already a little out of my comfort zone. But I was absolutely fine and I quite enjoyed being by myself actually. Even though there wasn’t a lot to do in either Cucuta or San Antonio across the border.

Over lunch Jairo and I discused the conference and how it compared to the Carmen one. He asked me tell him what improvements I think should be made, so I came up with some logistical things and some clear explanations of the processes and he’s going to tell the other departmental CCCM representatives for their forums. I actually managed to think of quite a few things, so I must have been concentrating!

Miguel picked me up at 8 and we went to the association meeting. I was a bit anxious about going, equally out of my comfort zone at the prospect of having to spend an evening with people I had never met, but I’m really glad I went. They were all very eloquent, and the interpreter was great, introducing me to a few people and creating conversations. I learnt there are no schools for deaf children and no government aid either. When the meeting itself began they announced that I was there (in sign language and the interpreter spoke for mine and Miguel’s benefit), then they invited me to go up and give a speech. And actually I was completely unfazed by this and I told them how much I liked Cucuta (which I was true, it was much nicer than the guidebook made out!) and all about the campaign and the forums and they asked me a few questions about England and myself. And the interpreter (I never found out her name!) translated my Spanish to them and whilst I spoke and their signs to me whilst they asked. And when they asked whether I was married or single and I said single all of them did the sign for single, which kind of looks like jazz hands, and the interpreter beamed “solterita, solterita!” (soltera is the word for a single female and they do love their attenuations and their diminutives…). They thanked me for coming and I said that next time I come to Cucuta I would learn Colombian sign language. At this they all, as one, raised their arms above their heads and shook their arms, and some clapped. And if I do ever go back there I will learn some because they were lovely. And sign languages intrigue me.

So Saturday morning I checked out of the (cheap-and-you-could-tell) hotel, found some breakfast, changed some pesos to bolivares for Venezuela, then got a taxi to take me to the bus station. Now, in Cucuta everyone who I came into contact with was very interested in where I was from, what I was doing. Later in the day in fact I was sitting on a bench and a man started chatting to me and he told me a lot of his life story and I told him about the campaign, and then he said he would never forget ‘Clarita’ the ‘inglesa’ with blue eyes. And this taxi driver was no different. When I told him I was going to San Antonio he said that I shouldn’t be getting a bus, I should get a shared taxi cos it was much quicker and almost the same price, so he took me to where I could get one from. He asked me all the standards, what i’m doing where i’m living and when i let slip that i was by myself he was as concerned as the TV people and made me take his number incase I needed anything. In any other country I would be a bit freaked out by all this male concern, but I do belive they are genuinely concerned for my welfare and want to help. But I am being careful, before you say anything.

I’ve taken to saying my name is ‘Clara’ even though I don’t really like it. Nhora, Isa and everyone in the office, who’ve had more contact with the English speaking world than most Colombians, say Claire with a Colombian twist and I like it. But every time I’ve told other people my name I have to repeat it several times and when I spell it they give me a quizzical look and say “Claiy-ray?!” So Clara is simpler, Spanish and comes blessed with the diminutive ‘Clarita’. Who’d have though Claire was so difficult to pronounce. There was a man in Uganda who called me ‘Cloud’ and I never corrected him. Perhaps I should have done French, would have been safe there with Claire.

Anway, I’m sorry this has become really rather long, thank you for reading! Here’s another funfact to take away with you:

Coca Cola, if taken as Spanish words, means Cocaine Queue.

Hasta luego, chao.