Great Day for The Outlook
Included in the masses that descended upon Barranquilla last week for the 150th Anniversary Celebration was one rather rugged journalist, an LPTS alumna, who has come with a variety of articles to write for multiple magazine about the Colombian Church. Some of you know Alexa Smith, by reputation if not in person. She has been a supporter of the cause here for some time, and one of our allies in mission. When she was still on staff with Presbyterian News Service, it was her words that awakened the church to the IPC´s dilemma and informed our members about the threat to an active faith that is ever present here. Her first two articles from this session in South America were put up on the net yesterday; they include one on the Accompaniers, and one on the Celebration. While you´re at the Presbyterian Outlook´s website as well, check out Chris Iosso´s article on the conflict in Israel and Lebanon. I´m proud to state that I share a pew with him every Sunday morning!
I cut my time in the Psycho Social Support class short today, as Alexa was going to be traveling to a displaced community and meeting with leaders here on campus, and so needed a interpreter to cite their stories back to her. I gave me my first opportunity to enter the displacement camps myself, and here the beginnings of those stories that inspired me to come in the first place. It was tiring, but satisfying knowing that because of these efforts, awareness about Colombia will span into whole new audiences…
Kilometro Seven was the displacement camp we visited in the late morning and early afternoon. Two years ago, on a previous trip, Alexa had met with a woman named Lucy who shared with her about her experiences, and inspired some earlier stories. We, once again, met Lucy to see what had come about in the last two years. We heard Lucy recount the story of converting her home from it´s early primary material of plastic lining to haphazard wooden boards. We saw Lucy glow with pride as she showed us the combination kitchen and bathroom she was in the process of building in order to make her house a little more stable. The makeshift housing of 2 years ago has become a permanent residence there in that overpopulated campground. They have begun to build a life in the midst of ruin. 284 families live in close quarters. Running water in each house depends on the amount of homemade yogurt you can vend in the street. Yet these stories are all too familiar to anyone who has spent time in the two thirds world.
The tragedy is that each of these families had land of their own. They were farmers, connected the land and sustaining themselves by the fruit of their work. They tilled the earth and made it multiply. They sowed with joy and reaped with pleasure. They had small farms and business of their own that had been passed down for generations in many cases. However, their small farms happened to be located in the parts of the country that were often richest in resources. As titles were rare, and guns were plentiful, these workers of the earth were forced from their homes by the various armed forces as they centralized their powers and found ways to fund their armies. They have lost more than a plot of land; they have lost their identity, and brought to live in destitute conditions. It is like a Latin American dustbowl whose homes “done blown away” through the winds of war rather than the Oklahoma storms.
There are efforts to return the displaced to their homes, but as one leader put it, the government is promoting a return when it cannot support a reparation. The Colombian government sees the ills manifest in the displaced communities; Indeed, the ugliness of sewage running into the street is hard to hide. However, the desplazados have no desire to return only to lose their land again at the hands of the armed forces. They will not return until a guarantee has been made that they can secure their property, that they will not be forced off again, and that they will have the freedom to till their land and grow their own crops, to cultivate, without the fear that they will not be present for the coming harvest.
That does not seem to unreasonable a request; a return of what was theirs and a guarantee that it will not be taken away from them again. And yet, leaders in the displaced communities who have clamored for such legislation have been systematically assassinated, kidnapped, and forced into hiding. Some have been able to return to start their work again; Some will never have that chance. Political repression is like a disease that suffocates its afflicted by cutting out their ability to breath and therefore speak.
This is part of the story that Alexa is preparing to tell, through publications like the Outlook, Christian Century, Christianity Today, and many others. May the Holy Spirit guide her pen, and inspire her readers to act. Understanding, without action, is hollow. We shall see what she shares.
I cut my time in the Psycho Social Support class short today, as Alexa was going to be traveling to a displaced community and meeting with leaders here on campus, and so needed a interpreter to cite their stories back to her. I gave me my first opportunity to enter the displacement camps myself, and here the beginnings of those stories that inspired me to come in the first place. It was tiring, but satisfying knowing that because of these efforts, awareness about Colombia will span into whole new audiences…
Kilometro Seven was the displacement camp we visited in the late morning and early afternoon. Two years ago, on a previous trip, Alexa had met with a woman named Lucy who shared with her about her experiences, and inspired some earlier stories. We, once again, met Lucy to see what had come about in the last two years. We heard Lucy recount the story of converting her home from it´s early primary material of plastic lining to haphazard wooden boards. We saw Lucy glow with pride as she showed us the combination kitchen and bathroom she was in the process of building in order to make her house a little more stable. The makeshift housing of 2 years ago has become a permanent residence there in that overpopulated campground. They have begun to build a life in the midst of ruin. 284 families live in close quarters. Running water in each house depends on the amount of homemade yogurt you can vend in the street. Yet these stories are all too familiar to anyone who has spent time in the two thirds world.
The tragedy is that each of these families had land of their own. They were farmers, connected the land and sustaining themselves by the fruit of their work. They tilled the earth and made it multiply. They sowed with joy and reaped with pleasure. They had small farms and business of their own that had been passed down for generations in many cases. However, their small farms happened to be located in the parts of the country that were often richest in resources. As titles were rare, and guns were plentiful, these workers of the earth were forced from their homes by the various armed forces as they centralized their powers and found ways to fund their armies. They have lost more than a plot of land; they have lost their identity, and brought to live in destitute conditions. It is like a Latin American dustbowl whose homes “done blown away” through the winds of war rather than the Oklahoma storms.
There are efforts to return the displaced to their homes, but as one leader put it, the government is promoting a return when it cannot support a reparation. The Colombian government sees the ills manifest in the displaced communities; Indeed, the ugliness of sewage running into the street is hard to hide. However, the desplazados have no desire to return only to lose their land again at the hands of the armed forces. They will not return until a guarantee has been made that they can secure their property, that they will not be forced off again, and that they will have the freedom to till their land and grow their own crops, to cultivate, without the fear that they will not be present for the coming harvest.
That does not seem to unreasonable a request; a return of what was theirs and a guarantee that it will not be taken away from them again. And yet, leaders in the displaced communities who have clamored for such legislation have been systematically assassinated, kidnapped, and forced into hiding. Some have been able to return to start their work again; Some will never have that chance. Political repression is like a disease that suffocates its afflicted by cutting out their ability to breath and therefore speak.
This is part of the story that Alexa is preparing to tell, through publications like the Outlook, Christian Century, Christianity Today, and many others. May the Holy Spirit guide her pen, and inspire her readers to act. Understanding, without action, is hollow. We shall see what she shares.
posted by Amy at 10:13 PM
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