I liked to wash the horses
The life that I remember from my first conscious thoughts was very lovely, very beautiful. I lived together with my parents and the rest of the family. I had freedom to go where I wanted and play with my companions. My father was a very good man; I liked the fact that he was my father, even though he isn’t with me anymore.
I studied. We had a farm an hour from town. On weekends I would go there with my siblings to feed the various kinds of animals. On Sunday afternoons, I would return to the town so I could go back to school on Monday. I was a very good student and the teachers spoke highly of me to my parents. I was a dedicated child; I studied hard. But I also liked to go on trips with my friends. we would climb hills, ride horses and eat mangos and other fruits. At the end of the week, we would return again to the farm to feed the animals.
We had different kinds of animals: cattle, horses, pigs, dogs, chickens, and cats. I mostly fed the horses, because I really liked to ride them. My siblings took care of the other animals. I liked to wash the horses with good soap and a brush, so they were kept clean. At that time, I was 8 years old. I was very little, but I liked to ride horses. My other siblings didn’t like to ride. That’s why it was me who did those chores, though I sometimes helped with the other animals.
I had the liberty to go wherever I wanted because I was a very respectful boy. I liked to help my companions and the elderly; I’ve always believed that that’s the best way to be.
The houses in the town were made of zinc (1), and those on plots of land were made from murrapo (2) and white leaf (3): a leaf that you cut into strips for weaving. It’s a leaf that doesn’t last long. It rots quickly and must be continually replaced. We would put all the animals that we had in little stables so they weren’t exposed to the air or to rainstorms at night.
My mom spent her time kneading flour to make bread and cucas (4). My father liked to weed. He would teach us how to treat the animals and, when school let out, help us with our homework. That’s why I was always a hard-working student.
We played ball and football and gave each other piggybacks. We made balls from clay or by filling tins full of dirt and heating them up. They were a bit heavy, but we didn’t have our own balls, so that’s what we used.
At school, I really liked helping my friends with their homework or planting the school’s trees. I said that the trees had lots of uses, and I think I was right. I also liked – at least within my community – to help the elderly with their chores. I liked to help my companions and anyone else. Since I was a child I’ve always been very helpful to others. I liked helping people from my community.
Back to topFleeing from death
I lived with my parents until I was 11. Then the violence appeared that separated us.
When that happened, my parents had already sent us to stay with my sister. It was April 12, 1997. That day men appeared in town, threatening people, saying that we had to leave, that we had to abandon the town because the land we were occupying wasn’t ours. They said that the land belonged to someone else, that it was loaned. They began to massacre people, to mistreat them, as if they were animals. There was no choice left for people but to flee. Helicopters appeared in the sky, shooting. We asked ourselves why all this was happening: we didn’t have anything to do with the things that were going on. People fled running: fathers lost track of their children; children lost track of their fathers. Everyone had to fend for themselves, to flee death.
I was on the road. It took three hours to get to my sister’s place. I was only around 15 minutes away, when I heard a terrific racket from the town. I wanted to return, but I said to myself: “no!”. I had never heard anything like it before. I was frightened, and I sped up to get to my sister’s. Then I heard it again. “Ay, God!. – I thought – My God, help me! What will become of me?” Close to where I stood, the helicopters passed overhead. But they weren’t strafing there; they were strafing on the outskirts of town. People escaped. Children, old people and women hid in the jungle. He who was bathing had to flee in his underwear; he at home, with what ever he was wearing. No one had time to grab anything.
I could hear it all from my sister’s town. I ran into the jungle, running, fleeing. I hid, without knowing where to go, without having anything to eat .. and the mosquitoes ate me up! I found a few hog plums (5). That’s what I ate the first day. I thought I was going to die, because I got stomach cramps so bad I couldn’t even stand up ... for around 15 minutes. Then it passed. I just cried and cried, because I ... was lost in the jungle, alone. I couldn’t hear the people who fled into the jungle from the town nearby, nor from my town. I couldn’t hear anything at all.
I couldn’t stop crying, but what was I going to do? I lay down to sleep in the bamba (6) of a tree – that was my house -- because I didn’t know where to go. I decided to stay there. There are some small farms before you get to the town, and before the farms, some fruit trees. How great is the Lord, that in that season there were still ripe fruits. I would go and pick them; that was my food, my sustenance. I would drink water from the creek and then return to my house -- the bamba of a tree -- and cry. I didn’t do anything but cry.
People fled towards the parish of Pavarandó. I was half way between my town and Pavarando, lying down in the bamba of the tree, in my house – what I had designated as my house – when I heard some footsteps. It was my uncle and a little boy. My uncle could barely walk, but he was with a boy around 9 years old. The boy helped him walk. He took his hand, and helped him move along. When I saw my uncle, I embraced him. I didn’t know what I was doing! I embraced him and I embraced the other companion too. I cried from happiness to not feel so alone!. Later, my uncle said that we should cross the creek. Then we took a right onto a path which took us to the highway that went to Pavarandó, to where the people had fled.
My uncle leaned with one hand on the shoulder of our little companion and leaned with the other hand on me, and we walked along, slowly, slowly. At around six in the afternoon we arrived in the parish of Pavarandó. The army tried to make us turn around because it was apparently very late and people weren’t allowed to pass through at that hour. We explained that it was too late to return and that we were already in town. How were we supposed to just turn around and go back? We said that we were just kids, that something could happen to us on the road that late. Finally, as if by miracle, they let us pass.
Back to topMy heart beat again
When we arrived, we found people crying over us. Yes, thank God people had gotten out and arrived in this town where they were getting resettled. When I got there, when I saw my people, I went crazy with happiness! My heart began to beat again.
It was rough, but fortunately no one had died. We all made it alive to the parish of Pavarandó. There were many pregnant women there and women who had just had their deliveries and had had to leave, walking in that state.
On the road, we found lots of boots belonging to people who, out of fear, hadn’t even put their boots on. We found ripped shirts and lots of pants. People had fled practically nude. As I had been going to stay with my sister for three days, I had a bag with two sets of clothes. That’s all.
The most difficult part was there in Pavarandó. We stayed in the middle of a sports pitch. We threw ourselves down to rest, to ease our nerves, to come to grips with not being in our birthplace. We didn’t have anything to eat there and nothing in which to sleep... Some kind-hearted people from the town gave us blankets, yuca, plantains. .. But you need lots and lots of housing for a crowd like that, not just two plantains and two blankets. No, that was enough for some people. But the rest -- the majority -- had to sleep there in the dirt.
People cried and cried. They would say: “My God! Why did this happen to us, we haven’t done anything wrong?” I was a child at the time. I understood that, no matter where it strikes, violence is a destructive, deadly thing that destroys your life, my life, and the life of any human being. So we stayed there. A week after we arrived, some people from the town of Pavarandó left for the municipality of Mutatá. (7) They spoke to some people there. Then some organizations came, spoke with us, and decided to help us with a bit of food and shelter. More than anything, they sent us blankets, mosquito netting, and stuff like that.
Back to topWe survived suffering great hunger
Our goal was to return. But we also thought that, while fortunately we had all gotten out alive .. what if things worked out worse this time? So we decided to wait a bit until things calmed down a bit. Also, they wouldn’t let us pass through the roadblock, because they said that if we returned, we might get killed. I don’t know who told us that – that we might get killed if we returned. But they said we should wait because everything was in chaos there. Things like that. After a long time, we were able to return.
We were displaced for three years. We spent three years living badly, because in Pavarandó, after we managed to get them to help us with a bit of food and shelter, they would give us food for just a month. Then the food would run out. Can you imagine a family of 15 kids, 11 kids, nine kids? What we got was very little. Behind it was a good heart, and we are grateful. But it wasn’t enough for really large families. The food would run out and it would be one, two months before they would bring us food again. People were hungry the whole time. They couldn’t even go out and look for wood. In the town we asked for yuca and plantains. And people who owned houses would tell us to go back and gather it for ourselves. But we couldn’t go.
The provisions they gave us were intended to last a month, but on seeing that we couldn’t return, the people that owned houses there gave us plantains and yuca. Not being able to return, we decided that the provisions were for a month and we should distribute them. We had to eat a little at a time so the provisions would last for two or maybe more months until another shipment arrived. In that way, though with lots of hunger, we survived there in Pavarandó.
And being there in Pavarandó for around eight months, some members of the community – young people and adults – decided to go to the military base to get permission to return to the community. They (the soldiers) said that we could return but that we couldn’t stay in the town because the same thing might happen again if (the armed men) were around. So people went and brought things back: things for sleeping, plantains, yuca, beasts of burden. In my town, almost everyone had those animals, the beasts of burden. They went and they loaded up their donkeys and mules, loaded the mules full and brought lots of things back which they passed out to everyone, to all the other people there. The situation eased a bit, and we too returned to our town. We got an official permission from the military base to go as long as we didn’t stay. The majority of people returned: In one family, a brother and nephew returned; in another, the first cousin, the uncle, the son and the grandson. In that way, they retrieved many things.
My older brother and uncle went from my family. They got the beasts of burden from my father’s farm and loaded them up, especially with plantains; they didn’t bring things like cabinets and furniture. All that, no, because our goal was to return. More than anything, people got the permissions so they could look for food, some clothes and things to sleep in.
Back to topI felt that my life had ended
In Pavarandó, we lasted nine months suffering hunger, real hunger. And then the situation eased up because we could go and look for food on our land, or sometimes look closer by. Once, in the middle of the road, we ran into some men. I was on that trip, because I told my mom that I wanted to go and look for my horse, a horse that I nicknamed Lightning, for his speed, and really liked. We ran into those men and I said to myself: “My God! Is my luck that terrible that when I decide to return, we run into the same people that made us flee?
Well, yes. They seized us, mistreated us, insulted us. They kicked people. They assassinated them. I cried and one of the men shouted at me to shut up and stop yelling. Out of pure fear, I fell silent, trembling, sweating ... I hugged my brother. They seized people and assassinated them. They told us we had to go back from where we came ...
I felt like my life had come to an end. It had come to an end because they were abusing people. I thought that they were going to assassinate us all. But no: they assassinated exactly nine people. There were 23 of us who set out and nine were killed. Some were killed with wooden clubs cut from trees; others were set on fire ... It was, in other words, the worst death you could deal. It was really, really bad for me. When we got back to Pavarandó, people were crying. We got together and agreed to go the municipality of Chigorodó (8). We talked with some organizations there, who helped us with transportation. We were in Pavarandó for a year. From there we moved to Chigorodó in 1998. For some, it was better there; for others it was worse. At least some people had families in Chigorodó that could help them find work on the banana plantations.
Back to topAfter that I did poorly
In Chigorodó we got assistance: People working on the banana plantations contributed money and food and helped people who didn’t have anything or didn’t have that kind of job. For some the situation was easy; for others it was tough; I worked selling fritters and bolis (9) . I sold lots of things.
Though for some the change was a good, for others its was bad because it was a move from the countryside to a ‘municipality, (10) where the atmosphere was completely different, where absolutely everything was different. For some the change had to be very difficult. Yea, its tough getting used to things you’re not used to: withstanding hunger, sleeping in the open air... No, no, no, I don’t want to get used to that bad life that we lived! We thought that we would go to Chigorodó and that maybe things would calm down a bit. We decided to go there and then do a loop, going back to La Grande – a town on the banks of the Atrato –before returning home. We went to Chigorodó and ended up staying there for a long time. We lived badly. I began studying at a school there, and, right away, I began doing poorly because I would sit down to study and I couldn’t but think of all that had happened and what would happen. My grades fell.
In 1999, we went to the parish of La Grande. There was work there, work quite similar to what we did on our own lands: fishing, growing plantains, growing rice .. just like we did at home.
Our goal was to get closer and closer, and eventually return home. And that’s what we did: get closer. We arrived in La Grande. There people helped us out: We had what we needed for sleeping, and they gave us fishing nets and champas (canoes) .. Many people from my community have relatives there. Our confidence grew, but we couldn’t forget what had happened, what was happening to us. To survive better, we began to fish and plant.
Back to topWith minds focussed on the earth
We lost a year in that community. In 2000, we decided to return to our lands. Some of us were afraid that “ay, My God! hopefully, the same thing won’t happen!” But people still have their minds focussed on the earth. We had to return to what was our life, our bread. Away from our land, we couldn’t live; our goal was to return.
After all that time, we found the town in ruins, with the houses damaged. Whatever we had left behind, they had taken. It was a disaster! A disaster. We decided to clear out all the weeds. We set ourselves up in the less damaged houses and started there. We were still getting food assistance, but, in spite of it all, we suffered a calamity of hunger.
We had returned, but there were no plantains, no yuca, no ñame (11), yams, Nothing! We had to scour the hills for food. Since plantains don’t ruin quickly, we would scour the hills for green plantains and eat that. Holy God! I would try to eat those plantains and I wouldn’t be able to, I wouldn’t be able to get it down, but ... green! green!
The river was clogged with sediment on a stretch of roughly eight kilometres from the mouth upriver. People nearly cried: the river disappearing! Still we concentrated on our return.
Seeing that nothing remained of what we’d left behind, we told ourselves that the most important thing was to be alive and back home. What more did we want? Though there was nothing left, we were back. Then we decided to start planting our food again. While we were waiting for the crops to grow, we suffered hunger. Then we harvested plantains, rice, and corn – because the fastest harvest is from corn and a rice we call ligerito (fast), which takes about a month, 15 days. We began to eat and our hunger eased a bit.
Back to topAy, I couldn't bear to look at them
When we returned we didn’t hear any helicopter or planes overhead. No armed group came into town. We told ourselves: “things are finally a bit more relaxed.” We had the impression that maybe they [the paramilitaries] would return, but, in any case, we were happy to have returned, to be back home.
We returned in 2000 and 2001. On September 12, 2001, they [the paramilitaries] reappeared; they reappeared killing people. Ay, Holy God! I don’t want to remember it! When I remember what I saw, I can’t stand the pain in my head, My God!
First the army came, behind them the AUC. They were mixed together, mixed .. They arrived and identified themselves: “We are the National Army” and then the other group came: “We are the Self-Defence Forces,” insulting people and mistreating them .. “Can you imagine: for someone who is not used to these things, to see something like that? We thought that they were going to finish us off! As they said that they were going to kill everyone, down to the smallest child, we said to ourselves. “So they will kill us again.”
Some people ran for their lives, throwing themselves into the river or fleeing into the jungle .. but most people stayed in town. It was mostly the young people who fled, because they were the targets of the armed group. Because they wanted to assassinate young people or take them away, kidnap them ..! They summoned people saying: “Why did you return to our land? This is ours, not yours .. you have to leave immediately, unless you want us to kill you all and not leave a single sole to even tell your story.”
I was next to my mother, who had also broken down in tears. I didn’t even look at them, I didn’t look at them because I knew that if I looked at them ... Ay, I couldn’t even look at them!
I felt like life .. I felt that my soul had left my body, that it was no longer inside me. Because I would move and I would feel empty. I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t feel what was inside me.. People ran. They summoned those that remained to say that everyone had to abandon town, that the land was there’s, that we shouldn’t have returned to get in the way, that they had warned us. We had to clear out immediately. If not, they would wipe us all out.
With that we realized that all that aggression against us, against the communities in the basin, had been for land, for our land, to take our land away. Because the land was very fertile, suited for growing many things .. so yes, all that hostility was to get our land.
Back to topWe tossed a coin for our life
In that attack, five people were assassinated. Sadly, they assassinated two of my brothers: my twin brother and my sister who was 28 and pregnant. And yes, sadly .. three other young men. After they left, people went to look for those who had fled and hid. We found the dead. They had been stoned to death. They had put each person’s head on a rock and smashed it with another rock. Ay, My God! I had never seen something so grim, so horrible! The dead were gathered up and buried. We decided that that though they had said they would kill us if we didn’t leave, though we had suffered terror, we weren’t going to abandon our land again: We would live or die. We tossed a coin for our life.
After the community took its decision, my life was a bit scary; I was scared but also satisfied, full of happiness. Scared, because if they came back they could kill us, and happy because we were back in our territory, where we had wanted to return.
The impact of all those aggressions against us has been really tough. It was tough to get used to things that you weren’t brought up with, to see people murdered, to see things that you never imagined – much less as a child. It was tough to have to flee again, to see that we were missing people in the community, that everyone cried all the time, that we didn’t live as we had before. In truth, it’s been really hard. I can’t figure it out because it’s .. it’s the worst that can happen to a person, to a community!
I think those things are unforgettable. Though they’re not always present, they’re in your heart and your mind. It’s not something you can just forget from one moment to the next; I think it’s something you can never forget ... Yea, I think you can never forget. Forget my brother, forget my sister, forget what we lived through and all those people who are no longer around ..? No, no, no...!
Now I live with my mother. I live with her, because my father drowned. I feel very sad that he’s not with me anymore.
In spite of everything, some institutions have helped us. They’ve cheered people up and insisted that we keep living, that we keep resisting. I think that if we had to abandon here again it would be really hard.
Back to topMy life isn't worth anything anymore
My life after all that we’ve lived through is --- my life, to tell the truth, isn’t worth anything anymore. They’ve taken my future, they’ve stolen it, destroyed it. Because of that, I haven’t been able to continue studying. My life is a disaster: now even the smallest noise gives me a headache. My life has been completely destroyed.
I want to study, to try to recover some of the things I lost and do lots of good things, lots of good things for other people.
I think those people have black hearts and should pay for what they’ve done, that they should be punished. Yes, they deserve to be punished, to pay for what they’ve done. Because they aren’t good people; they are bad, too bad to be living amongst others. They’ve destroyed the lives of innocent people, people who didn’t have anything to do with them. So I think they should be punished, that they should pay for what they’ve done.
I don’t think anything can be done to repair the damage, no matter what they do. How will they return my dead brothers to life? No matter what they do, life won’t be like it was before; it won’t be the same. What I mean is that our community has been marked forever. What happened is unforgettable. We’ll never forget it, and it will always be on our minds.
I beg God that what happened to my community.. that, God willing, it will never happen anywhere else: it’s the worst thing that can happen to a person. I hope it doesn’t happen to anyone else.
(1) Metallic sheets for roofs and coverings
(2) They use the trunk from the Açaí Palm or murrapo (Euterpe oleracea) to construct fences and as columns for houses; they take palm hearts from the shoot.
(3) Calathea lutea (Aubl) Schultes
(4) Cookies made of wheat flour and panela (sugarloaf)
(5) Hog plum, common name in Colombian is Spanish Ciruela hobo, (Spondias mombin l)
(6) The roots at the base of a big tree that form a kind of cave
(7) In the banana zone of Urabá (Antioquia)
(8) In Antioquia
(9) Home made frozen refreshments in tubular plastic bags, very popular among children
(10) Refers to a town
(11) Tuber of the genus Dioscorea
Back to top