It was sad to hear yesterday that Clarence Clemons, best known as the saxophone player in Bruce Springsteen's E-Street Band, had passed away following a stroke, aged 69. Dubbed the "Big Man" by Springsteen, Clemons was the soul of the band, his powerful solos giving another dimension to songs such as "Thunder Road" (listen to the lead out at the end), "Rosalita", and of course "Jungleland".
There's a nice tribute on Salon from Wallace Stroby. The title of his piece is from the song "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out", where Springsteen describes how "the Big Man joined the band".
Showing posts with label Colombia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colombia. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
"Parapolitics" in Colombia
Hat-tip to Terence Wood for this must-read piece on Colombia from the New York Review of Books. The article, which reviews And They Refounded the Nation…: How Mafiosi and Politicians Reconfigured the Colombian State, edited by Claudia López Hernández, sums up what has emerged about the relationships between the political allies of former president Alvaro Uribe and right-wing paramilitary groups. It explains how the "justice and peace" process to demobilise paramilitaries under Uribe was a fraud, bearing most resemblance to the deal that drug lord Pablo Escobar tried to strike for himself in the 1990s. It documents the close links between Uribe's coalition and the paramilitaries, whose political and economic objectives were thoroughly interlinked with drug trafficking:
The paramilitary bosses who founded the AUC just over three years later were mostly former associates of Escobar. They had gotten their start as leaders of vigilante groups set up in the 1980s to deter guerrillas from kidnapping drug traffickers. These groups had joined forces with large landholders and, with the military’s support, expanded their operations from targeted retaliations to more widespread violence against suspected guerrilla allies, including leftist politicians and trade unionists.
By the 2000s, they had more systematic ambitions:
The paramilitaries had driven more than one million poor farmers off their lands, preparing the way for what the authors refer to as a “counter-agrarian reform.” Large landholders and investors—including paramilitaries and other traffickers—acquired the land, and corrupt officials helped them obtain title. As one former paramilitary put it: “We went in killing, others followed buying, and the third group legalized.”
Gradually emerging evidence has undermined the "democratic" credentials of Uribe, from revelations about the collaboration of members of his congressional allies with paramilitaries in rigging elections, to evidence of illegal bugging and threats by the national intelligence aganecy against judges and journalists investigating the allegations.
The review also mentions the somewhat surprising changes that have happened under Uribe's handpicked successor, former Defence Minister Juan Manuel Santos. Santos has promised to respect judicial independence and has promoted a "Victim's Law" which would return stolen lands to displaced people and also make monetary reparations to victims of violence.
As I'm sure I will be reminded, none of this is new to Colombians, even if they're only following it from afar through their national media. But it's important that these kind of accounts be available in English, given the poor and unbalanced information that predominates in the international press.
The paramilitary bosses who founded the AUC just over three years later were mostly former associates of Escobar. They had gotten their start as leaders of vigilante groups set up in the 1980s to deter guerrillas from kidnapping drug traffickers. These groups had joined forces with large landholders and, with the military’s support, expanded their operations from targeted retaliations to more widespread violence against suspected guerrilla allies, including leftist politicians and trade unionists.
By the 2000s, they had more systematic ambitions:
The paramilitaries had driven more than one million poor farmers off their lands, preparing the way for what the authors refer to as a “counter-agrarian reform.” Large landholders and investors—including paramilitaries and other traffickers—acquired the land, and corrupt officials helped them obtain title. As one former paramilitary put it: “We went in killing, others followed buying, and the third group legalized.”
Gradually emerging evidence has undermined the "democratic" credentials of Uribe, from revelations about the collaboration of members of his congressional allies with paramilitaries in rigging elections, to evidence of illegal bugging and threats by the national intelligence aganecy against judges and journalists investigating the allegations.
The review also mentions the somewhat surprising changes that have happened under Uribe's handpicked successor, former Defence Minister Juan Manuel Santos. Santos has promised to respect judicial independence and has promoted a "Victim's Law" which would return stolen lands to displaced people and also make monetary reparations to victims of violence.
As I'm sure I will be reminded, none of this is new to Colombians, even if they're only following it from afar through their national media. But it's important that these kind of accounts be available in English, given the poor and unbalanced information that predominates in the international press.
Friday, January 01, 2010
Non-Traditional Exports in the Andes
I'm a regular reader of Peruvian economist and La Republica columnist Humberto Campodónico -- for New Zealand readers, sort of a cross between Brian Easton and Rod Oram. Campodónico writes dense, detailed columns on the world and Peruvian economies, with particular attention to national policies on natural resources such as minerals, petroleum and gas. He is a trenchant critic of what he argues is the Peruvian government's unreformed neoliberalism, its lack of a coherent plan for development and its pandering to the whims of international investors in extractive industries.
Campodónico often resembles a traditional investigative journalist, as he strings together data and timelines to demonstrate how resources have been given away cheaply or tax revenue needlessly wasted. It's hard to imagine a columnist with such a wonkish, fact-based approach, which requires readers to really concentrate, getting such a prominent slot in a New Zealand newspaper.
A particularly interesting recent column compares the progress in developing "non-traditional exports" in Peru, Chile and Colombia. In Latin America, "traditional" exports refer to primary materials such as minerals and petroleum and unprocessed cash crops such as bananas and sugar. These have often been dominated by international coporations operating in economic "enclaves". "Non-traditional" exports are those with a greater value-added content: often, though not always, they are produced at a smaller scale, are more labour-intensive and tend to be locally owned.
A rise in non-traditional exports can be viewed as one measure of the strength of a developing country's economy. Exports are of course important because they provide the foreign currency needed to buy things that aren't produced locally and to pay for borrowing. A higher proportion of "non-traditional" products may indicate greater economic sophistication, resilience and broader participation. For Campodónico, they represent "the insertion of the local entrepreneurial classes in the world market".
In this respect Chile, Colombia and Peru are worth comparing because they are the medium-sized South American countries that have opted to continue with orthodox "market" economies, as opposed to the "Bolivarian" triumvirate of Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia, who have built strategies around greater state control and redistribution of the rents from raw materials.
According to the respective central banks, in 2008 Chile exported $65 billion USD, of which 41% was earned by non-traditional exports (mainly food products such as fish, fruit and wine). Colombia exported $37.6 billion, with 47% non-traditional (chemicals, paper, textiles, leather and food). Meanwhile, Peru exported $31.5 billion, with just 25% from non-traditional products (metallurgy, textiles and agroindustrial products).
Campodónico also notes that state-owned companies were responsible for about a third of the "traditional" exports in Chile and Colombia, whereas in Peru most mineral extraction is done by foreign, privately-owned companies.
These statistics show Peru to be significantly weaker than its two Andean neighbours -- a useful counter to triumphalism about its recent recent rate of growth in GDP. This perspective helps raise the questions: how much of this growth is being distributed among ordinary Peruvians? How much is being usefully reinvested? And, can it be expected to last?
Andean nations, Peru, development, exports,
Campodónico often resembles a traditional investigative journalist, as he strings together data and timelines to demonstrate how resources have been given away cheaply or tax revenue needlessly wasted. It's hard to imagine a columnist with such a wonkish, fact-based approach, which requires readers to really concentrate, getting such a prominent slot in a New Zealand newspaper.
A particularly interesting recent column compares the progress in developing "non-traditional exports" in Peru, Chile and Colombia. In Latin America, "traditional" exports refer to primary materials such as minerals and petroleum and unprocessed cash crops such as bananas and sugar. These have often been dominated by international coporations operating in economic "enclaves". "Non-traditional" exports are those with a greater value-added content: often, though not always, they are produced at a smaller scale, are more labour-intensive and tend to be locally owned.
A rise in non-traditional exports can be viewed as one measure of the strength of a developing country's economy. Exports are of course important because they provide the foreign currency needed to buy things that aren't produced locally and to pay for borrowing. A higher proportion of "non-traditional" products may indicate greater economic sophistication, resilience and broader participation. For Campodónico, they represent "the insertion of the local entrepreneurial classes in the world market".
In this respect Chile, Colombia and Peru are worth comparing because they are the medium-sized South American countries that have opted to continue with orthodox "market" economies, as opposed to the "Bolivarian" triumvirate of Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia, who have built strategies around greater state control and redistribution of the rents from raw materials.
According to the respective central banks, in 2008 Chile exported $65 billion USD, of which 41% was earned by non-traditional exports (mainly food products such as fish, fruit and wine). Colombia exported $37.6 billion, with 47% non-traditional (chemicals, paper, textiles, leather and food). Meanwhile, Peru exported $31.5 billion, with just 25% from non-traditional products (metallurgy, textiles and agroindustrial products).
Campodónico also notes that state-owned companies were responsible for about a third of the "traditional" exports in Chile and Colombia, whereas in Peru most mineral extraction is done by foreign, privately-owned companies.
These statistics show Peru to be significantly weaker than its two Andean neighbours -- a useful counter to triumphalism about its recent recent rate of growth in GDP. This perspective helps raise the questions: how much of this growth is being distributed among ordinary Peruvians? How much is being usefully reinvested? And, can it be expected to last?
Andean nations, Peru, development, exports,
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A War on Drugs, Or On Peasants?
A good article in the Guardian describes how US-funded aerial spraying of coca plants in Colombia is poisoning people, crops and livestock, while cocaine production continues to increase. Grace Livingstone, who has visited and interviewed Colombian coca growers, reports information received from a parish priest in Caquetá that spraying of herbicide is having a marked effect on human and animal health. As she notes:
The US focuses on one element of the trafficking chain, the poverty-stricken peasant. But the policy is not even effective. When their land is poisoned, peasants migrate and start growing coca again. They have no alternative. Spraying simply displaces the problem. Despite decades of spraying, coca cultivation in Colombia has grown by 500% since the 1980s, according to US state department figures. US politicians heralded a drop in cultivation after the launch of Plan Colombia, but the area of land covered by coca crops is now larger than when the plan was launched. Perhaps the clearest indication that the policy is failing is the falling price of cocaine, suggesting more, not less, of the drug is entering the US market.
To quote a previous post, "there's little that's more perverse than a social problem in the rich world being tackled by spraying poison all over environmentally fragile land in a much poorer country".
The US focuses on one element of the trafficking chain, the poverty-stricken peasant. But the policy is not even effective. When their land is poisoned, peasants migrate and start growing coca again. They have no alternative. Spraying simply displaces the problem. Despite decades of spraying, coca cultivation in Colombia has grown by 500% since the 1980s, according to US state department figures. US politicians heralded a drop in cultivation after the launch of Plan Colombia, but the area of land covered by coca crops is now larger than when the plan was launched. Perhaps the clearest indication that the policy is failing is the falling price of cocaine, suggesting more, not less, of the drug is entering the US market.
To quote a previous post, "there's little that's more perverse than a social problem in the rich world being tackled by spraying poison all over environmentally fragile land in a much poorer country".
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Radical Solutions?
Before I started a Master's in Development Studies, I was already interested in questions about development and mused frequently about them on this blog. After one-and-a-half semesters of fairly intensive studying and reading, it's interesting to look back at how my understanding and views have changed.
In deleting some emails, I came across a mini-rant (pasted below in italics) I'd sent to my US-based sister about the trade deals with Peru, Panama and Colombia, which were at the time a topic of discussion in both the mainstream and grassroots media there.
These were my thoughts a year ago:
I am on balance a supporter of the FTA for Peru because of the commercial opportunities it offers. However, a rudimentary examination of the existing agreement demonstrates that Peru, Panama and Colombia are being forced to suck eggs in order to get their deals. The US has been using its weight in the bilateral negotiations to impose conditions it can't get through the WTO (esp. with regard to intellectual property). This has little to do with the appropriateness or plausibility of these conditions for the country (US-standard copyright protection in Peru within 3 years, yeah right) but rather with a wider agenda.
I reckon if the US really wants to support development in the Andean countries, it should do the following:
1. offer unilateral tariff reductions on all products for a 10--15 year period (similar to the Andean Trade Promotion and Drug Eradication Act, but with more certainty)
2. trade partners required to move towards international/WTO standards on labour, environment and intellectual property (i.e. NOT US-level standards for the latter); milestones to be met to ensure continuation of tariff-free access after 5 and 10-year review periods
3. reduce or freeze direct-to-government aid (including export subsidies disguised as aid), but offer technical assistance especially in local government, law enforcement, education, infrastructure development, agricultural productivity, distribution, marketing, etc. Foment partnerships between schools, universities, police departments, public service, small NGOs, churches, etc. Loans available for insfastructure conditional on robust analysis of the viability of the project.
4. trade partners remove or reduce tariffs on all or most non-agricultural products; non-complementary agricultural products to be left alone for the first 5 years
5. investment protections in place but trade partners allowed to place 'development' conditions such as use of local products or technology transfer
6. legalize cocaine, but slap on big import and sales taxes; coca leaves can be imported tariff-free
The last one is only partly in jest. At present, cocaine is one processed, added-value product that is highly profitable and makes its way easily into US markets (despite all attempts at law enforcement). It's also inevitably associated with significant violence and corruption. What needs to happen is the opposite of the historical: developing countries have a chance to produce and market added-value, mainstream products, while drug-related activity is disincentivised through making it uncompetitive. Such an approach would see all the cocaine labs move inside the US, where their activity would be tightly regulated by ATF officers...). Meanwile, Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia would fill US health food stores with a range of coca teas, sweets, oils, and essences. Groups like the FARC, Shining Path (now moprhing into narcotrafficking operations in Peru), paramilitaries lose their funding and much raison d'etre, either disappearing or being forced to become normal political entities.
Many weighty articles and long perambulations through the thickets of economic history, sociology and politics, I've become much better informed, feel more able to engage in debate, but my views are not a million miles away from what they were then.
Overall, I'm even less sure about the net benefit of the US-Peru trade agreement than I was, in part because I've been made aware that the link between overall economic growth and benefit for the majority is even more tenuous than I realised; in part because of gaining a greater understanding of just how one-sided and hypocritical the conditions in the trade agreements are (and how few of them are even about trade).
As I've learnt recently, suggestion 3 above is just a partial version of what's been on the agenda for international donors for a while through the 'good governance' agenda and the OECD's Paris Declaration on aid effectiveness. There's been a commitment to phasing out 'tied aid' (i.e. exports subsidies disguised as aid) and 'technical assistance' is a major buzz phrase in the aid community (along with its sibling 'capability development'). However, this does still seem to suffer from the longstanding high-handedness of development assistance, and mainly be aimed at bureaucratic elites.
If we do care about 'institutions', a nice alternative approach would be for some kind of properly-funded 'adult exchange programme', where the likes of police officers, petty officials, local council members, etc from developing countries could spend a three-month sabbatical in the equivalent department in a rich country -- and vice versa.
Suggestion 6 is of course mostly flippant, but I'd still be interested in people's reaction to it. The drug trade is not a good thing -- but at the end of the day it's just another manifestation of the inexorable market logic that is elsewhere trumpeted as the solution to everyone's problems. It's rarely mentioned even by liberal commentators, but there's little that's more perverse than a social problem in the rich world being tackled by spraying poison all over environmentally fragile land in a much poorer country.
Categories: development, Latin America, trade, cocaine, coca, Peru, Bolivia, Colombia
In deleting some emails, I came across a mini-rant (pasted below in italics) I'd sent to my US-based sister about the trade deals with Peru, Panama and Colombia, which were at the time a topic of discussion in both the mainstream and grassroots media there.
These were my thoughts a year ago:
I am on balance a supporter of the FTA for Peru because of the commercial opportunities it offers. However, a rudimentary examination of the existing agreement demonstrates that Peru, Panama and Colombia are being forced to suck eggs in order to get their deals. The US has been using its weight in the bilateral negotiations to impose conditions it can't get through the WTO (esp. with regard to intellectual property). This has little to do with the appropriateness or plausibility of these conditions for the country (US-standard copyright protection in Peru within 3 years, yeah right) but rather with a wider agenda.
I reckon if the US really wants to support development in the Andean countries, it should do the following:
1. offer unilateral tariff reductions on all products for a 10--15 year period (similar to the Andean Trade Promotion and Drug Eradication Act, but with more certainty)
2. trade partners required to move towards international/WTO standards on labour, environment and intellectual property (i.e. NOT US-level standards for the latter); milestones to be met to ensure continuation of tariff-free access after 5 and 10-year review periods
3. reduce or freeze direct-to-government aid (including export subsidies disguised as aid), but offer technical assistance especially in local government, law enforcement, education, infrastructure development, agricultural productivity, distribution, marketing, etc. Foment partnerships between schools, universities, police departments, public service, small NGOs, churches, etc. Loans available for insfastructure conditional on robust analysis of the viability of the project.
4. trade partners remove or reduce tariffs on all or most non-agricultural products; non-complementary agricultural products to be left alone for the first 5 years
5. investment protections in place but trade partners allowed to place 'development' conditions such as use of local products or technology transfer
6. legalize cocaine, but slap on big import and sales taxes; coca leaves can be imported tariff-free
The last one is only partly in jest. At present, cocaine is one processed, added-value product that is highly profitable and makes its way easily into US markets (despite all attempts at law enforcement). It's also inevitably associated with significant violence and corruption. What needs to happen is the opposite of the historical: developing countries have a chance to produce and market added-value, mainstream products, while drug-related activity is disincentivised through making it uncompetitive. Such an approach would see all the cocaine labs move inside the US, where their activity would be tightly regulated by ATF officers...). Meanwile, Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia would fill US health food stores with a range of coca teas, sweets, oils, and essences. Groups like the FARC, Shining Path (now moprhing into narcotrafficking operations in Peru), paramilitaries lose their funding and much raison d'etre, either disappearing or being forced to become normal political entities.
Many weighty articles and long perambulations through the thickets of economic history, sociology and politics, I've become much better informed, feel more able to engage in debate, but my views are not a million miles away from what they were then.
Overall, I'm even less sure about the net benefit of the US-Peru trade agreement than I was, in part because I've been made aware that the link between overall economic growth and benefit for the majority is even more tenuous than I realised; in part because of gaining a greater understanding of just how one-sided and hypocritical the conditions in the trade agreements are (and how few of them are even about trade).
As I've learnt recently, suggestion 3 above is just a partial version of what's been on the agenda for international donors for a while through the 'good governance' agenda and the OECD's Paris Declaration on aid effectiveness. There's been a commitment to phasing out 'tied aid' (i.e. exports subsidies disguised as aid) and 'technical assistance' is a major buzz phrase in the aid community (along with its sibling 'capability development'). However, this does still seem to suffer from the longstanding high-handedness of development assistance, and mainly be aimed at bureaucratic elites.
If we do care about 'institutions', a nice alternative approach would be for some kind of properly-funded 'adult exchange programme', where the likes of police officers, petty officials, local council members, etc from developing countries could spend a three-month sabbatical in the equivalent department in a rich country -- and vice versa.
Suggestion 6 is of course mostly flippant, but I'd still be interested in people's reaction to it. The drug trade is not a good thing -- but at the end of the day it's just another manifestation of the inexorable market logic that is elsewhere trumpeted as the solution to everyone's problems. It's rarely mentioned even by liberal commentators, but there's little that's more perverse than a social problem in the rich world being tackled by spraying poison all over environmentally fragile land in a much poorer country.
Categories: development, Latin America, trade, cocaine, coca, Peru, Bolivia, Colombia
Monday, July 07, 2008
Rescuing Ingrid Betancourt: Unanswered Questions
If the amazing tale of the rescue of Ingrid Betancourt and 14 others by the Colombian armed forces left me with some lingering doubts, it didn't take long for a concrete conspiracy theory to appear. A French-Swiss radio station claimed to have been informed by a reliable source inside Colombia ('put to the test many times in the past') that the FARC had been paid $20 million for the release of the hostages, and that the dramatic 'rescue' was staged.
This was vehemently denied by Colombian Minister of Defense Juan Manuel Santos, who said the government would have no reason to deny paying for the release of hostages, when it had already established a $100 million fund in recent months to pay rewards to guerrillas who released hostages, also offering them legal benefits. Santo said it would "look worse for the FARC" for them to have sold their comrades out.
France, Switzerland and the United Stated likewise denied they had paid a single cent for the release of the hostages
Claims that Operation Jaque ('Operation Check' -- as in chess) had been run by the Americans or even the Israelis were also dispelled. Although the army has admitted recieving training and technical assistance from the US, Israel and even the British SAS, Minister Santos swore that the operation was '100 percent Colombian'.
For the curious among us, the Colombian authorities have been drip-feeding some more details about how the operation was set up and run. Apparently, it started in April when a group of military intelligence operatives who had since December been tracking the guerrilla group that held Ingrid Betancourt, infiltrated the FARC's security ring and managed to gain the confidence of 'Cesar', the guerrilla leader directly responsible for the hostages.
By May, the the infiltrators were able to move freely in the zone, and reported the co-ordinates of the FARC camp to the Colombian Special Forces.
Military intelligence then began to hatch the cinematic plan that was agreed to by army chief Mario Montoya at the beginning of June and kept secret from all but the president and a few officials.
According to reports in El Tiempo, the inflitrators got a high-ranking guerrilla, whose indentity hasn't been revealed [my italics], to convince 'Cesar' that FARC leader Alfonso Cano had ordered the hostages to be brought to him by an international humanitarian mission to discuss a prisoner exchange. The contact with the international group had supposedly been made by another top FARC leader, 'Mono Jojoy'.
The key, according to the Colombians, was the FARC's fear of using the radio, ever since the raid into Ecuador in April that killed 'Raul Reyes' in a pinpoint bombing attack. 'Cesar' was thus unable to directly confirm the arrangement with his superiors. As the time of the operation drew near, the army surrounded what was thought to be the location of 'Mono Jojoy' to intensify this nervousness about going on air.
At the same time, the goverment circulated a false report -- picked up by the BBC -- that French and Swiss representatives were in the zone where 'Alfonso Cano' was thought to be located, to give extra veracity to the story of the exchange negotiation.
Meanwhile, from the middle of June a select group of soldiers had began to rehearse the roles they would have to play as representatives of the supposed 'humanitarian mission'. They developed details such as ensuring at least one woman was among the group (as had been the case in previous unilateral liberations by the FARC), bringing a 'cameraman' and 'journalist' along on the mission, and having a couple of the crew wear Che Guevara t-shirts to inspire confidence in the guerrillas. On the morning of the 2nd of July, army chief Montoya dispatched the entrusted few from their base with inspiring words and a reading from the Acts of the Apostles -- the one where Peter is rescued by an angel from the clutches of Herod.
The rest is history, with the moment of the hostages' liberation now available around the world in this edited video.
It's a fascinating account, but there's still something about it that seems not quite complete. There's a logistical void between the story of the 'infiltrator' bringing supposed messages from the FARC leaders to the hostage camp, and the detailed arrangements of the time and place for the helicopter pickup by the 'humanitarian organisation'. According to El Tiempo, the 'messenger' who was really a military agent, brought a message from Alfonso Cano approving the plan in the third week of June. The rescue was two weeks later, on the 2nd of July. How were the exact arrangements of time and place made, and why was 'Cesar' so sure he could trust them?
Athough the FARC may have been fearful enough to maintain radio silence, was there no way for 'Cesar' to get independent confirmation from one of his superiors, which didn't come from somebody who he'd only known since April?
If I had to hazard a guess at what we aren't being told, it would involve the mysterious 'high-ranking guerilla' who helped the military infiltrators. My guess would be that this person might be a bit higher ranking than has been suggested, and that the nature of the deal struck with him (or her) will not be publicly revealed.
This was vehemently denied by Colombian Minister of Defense Juan Manuel Santos, who said the government would have no reason to deny paying for the release of hostages, when it had already established a $100 million fund in recent months to pay rewards to guerrillas who released hostages, also offering them legal benefits. Santo said it would "look worse for the FARC" for them to have sold their comrades out.
France, Switzerland and the United Stated likewise denied they had paid a single cent for the release of the hostages
Claims that Operation Jaque ('Operation Check' -- as in chess) had been run by the Americans or even the Israelis were also dispelled. Although the army has admitted recieving training and technical assistance from the US, Israel and even the British SAS, Minister Santos swore that the operation was '100 percent Colombian'.
For the curious among us, the Colombian authorities have been drip-feeding some more details about how the operation was set up and run. Apparently, it started in April when a group of military intelligence operatives who had since December been tracking the guerrilla group that held Ingrid Betancourt, infiltrated the FARC's security ring and managed to gain the confidence of 'Cesar', the guerrilla leader directly responsible for the hostages.
By May, the the infiltrators were able to move freely in the zone, and reported the co-ordinates of the FARC camp to the Colombian Special Forces.
Military intelligence then began to hatch the cinematic plan that was agreed to by army chief Mario Montoya at the beginning of June and kept secret from all but the president and a few officials.
According to reports in El Tiempo, the inflitrators got a high-ranking guerrilla, whose indentity hasn't been revealed [my italics], to convince 'Cesar' that FARC leader Alfonso Cano had ordered the hostages to be brought to him by an international humanitarian mission to discuss a prisoner exchange. The contact with the international group had supposedly been made by another top FARC leader, 'Mono Jojoy'.
The key, according to the Colombians, was the FARC's fear of using the radio, ever since the raid into Ecuador in April that killed 'Raul Reyes' in a pinpoint bombing attack. 'Cesar' was thus unable to directly confirm the arrangement with his superiors. As the time of the operation drew near, the army surrounded what was thought to be the location of 'Mono Jojoy' to intensify this nervousness about going on air.
At the same time, the goverment circulated a false report -- picked up by the BBC -- that French and Swiss representatives were in the zone where 'Alfonso Cano' was thought to be located, to give extra veracity to the story of the exchange negotiation.
Meanwhile, from the middle of June a select group of soldiers had began to rehearse the roles they would have to play as representatives of the supposed 'humanitarian mission'. They developed details such as ensuring at least one woman was among the group (as had been the case in previous unilateral liberations by the FARC), bringing a 'cameraman' and 'journalist' along on the mission, and having a couple of the crew wear Che Guevara t-shirts to inspire confidence in the guerrillas. On the morning of the 2nd of July, army chief Montoya dispatched the entrusted few from their base with inspiring words and a reading from the Acts of the Apostles -- the one where Peter is rescued by an angel from the clutches of Herod.
The rest is history, with the moment of the hostages' liberation now available around the world in this edited video.
It's a fascinating account, but there's still something about it that seems not quite complete. There's a logistical void between the story of the 'infiltrator' bringing supposed messages from the FARC leaders to the hostage camp, and the detailed arrangements of the time and place for the helicopter pickup by the 'humanitarian organisation'. According to El Tiempo, the 'messenger' who was really a military agent, brought a message from Alfonso Cano approving the plan in the third week of June. The rescue was two weeks later, on the 2nd of July. How were the exact arrangements of time and place made, and why was 'Cesar' so sure he could trust them?
Athough the FARC may have been fearful enough to maintain radio silence, was there no way for 'Cesar' to get independent confirmation from one of his superiors, which didn't come from somebody who he'd only known since April?
If I had to hazard a guess at what we aren't being told, it would involve the mysterious 'high-ranking guerilla' who helped the military infiltrators. My guess would be that this person might be a bit higher ranking than has been suggested, and that the nature of the deal struck with him (or her) will not be publicly revealed.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
The Amazing Rescue of Ingrid Betancourt
The way it's being told by news sources, it was like something out of Biggles or Boy's Own. Six years after being kidnapped by FARC guerillas, former Colombian presidential candidate Ingrid Betancourt was today dramatically rescued by the Colombian military along with four US military contractors and eleven members of the Colombian police and armed forces.
Ever since she and running mate Clara Rojas wandered into FARC-controlled territory during the 2002 presidential campaign, Betancourt has been by far the most high-profile hostage of the guerilla group. With her political profile and dual French/Colombian citizenship, she went beyond just being a long-suffering hostage trapped in the jungle, to become a centre of political intrigue. French president Nicolas Sakorzy had personally sworn to secure her liberty. Hugo Chavez aimed to win kudos by leading the negotiations to free her and the other hostages, and was furious when Colombian leader Alvaro Uribe froze him out of this role in November 2007.
Uribe was then seen to have made a faux pas when he authorised the cross-border raid into Ecuador that killed FARC leader 'Raul Reyes' in March. Not only did this create an international incident, but Reyes had also been the main point of contact for international representatives -- including Chavez and Sakorzy -- that were seeking to negotiate Betancourt's release. With the FARC put on the defensive and Betancourt's health rumoured to be deteriorating, hopes of a timely negotiated solution had been deflated. Yet now it's Uribe and the Colombian military who have come up trumps.
Here's the story of the rescue, as told by official news outlets, and narrated in a press conference by Betancourt herself, shortly after her release, clad in army fatigues and looking in remarkably good order for someone who has spent so long in jungle captivity.
Members of the Colombian armed forces infiltrated the FARC unit responsible for holding the key hostages. The infiltrators managed to have three separate groups of hostages brought together in the jungle south of Bogota, and to convince the local FARC commandant 'Cesar' that the hostages were to be transferred to another site in the helicopter of a fictitious organisation that was supposedly negotiating with current FARC chief Alfonso Cano.
As narrated by Ingrid Betancourt herself, early on Wednesday morning, two white helicopters landed in the jungle clearing. Men identifying themselves as delegates of an unknown international organisation, but wearing Che Guevara t-shirts, got out and spoke with the FARC leaders. But no sooner had the helicopter which was transporting the hostages taken off, than it was revealed to belong to the Colombian armed forces. The four FARC guards were quickly overpowered, and the crew of the helicopter announced; "we're the Colombian army; you're freed". According to Betancourt, the helicopter then nearly crashed, as all the hostages jumped up with joy.
Of course, the release of the hostages is great news. And as a victory for law and order without a drop of blood being spilled, it ranks alongside the Peruvian police sifting through the garbage behind a Lima apartment to track down Shining Path leader Abimael Guzman. Betancourt glowingly speculated that only the Israeli special forces could have pulled off a comparable operation.
For Colombian president Alvaro Uribe, it's a massive victory, for him personally and for his no-compromise approach to the FARC. He and the Colombian army were made to appear magnanimous and humanitarian, as they reportedly left untouched another 60 or so guerillas that were in the same area, and which they had surrounded.
But I wonder if anyone else thinks there is something too good to be true about the story? How did the army operatives infiltrate the FARC so successfully? Were they on the ground with the other guerillas in the same zone, and if so, how long had they been there? And how were the battle-hardened FARC guerillas tricked so easily into delivering their crucial bargaining chip into the hands of an unknown group? Why did the freed American contractors not appear before the Colombian media but were flown straight to the US?
I wonder if there isn't a more complicated tale to be told -- and whether in fact the full story will ever be known.
Ever since she and running mate Clara Rojas wandered into FARC-controlled territory during the 2002 presidential campaign, Betancourt has been by far the most high-profile hostage of the guerilla group. With her political profile and dual French/Colombian citizenship, she went beyond just being a long-suffering hostage trapped in the jungle, to become a centre of political intrigue. French president Nicolas Sakorzy had personally sworn to secure her liberty. Hugo Chavez aimed to win kudos by leading the negotiations to free her and the other hostages, and was furious when Colombian leader Alvaro Uribe froze him out of this role in November 2007.
Uribe was then seen to have made a faux pas when he authorised the cross-border raid into Ecuador that killed FARC leader 'Raul Reyes' in March. Not only did this create an international incident, but Reyes had also been the main point of contact for international representatives -- including Chavez and Sakorzy -- that were seeking to negotiate Betancourt's release. With the FARC put on the defensive and Betancourt's health rumoured to be deteriorating, hopes of a timely negotiated solution had been deflated. Yet now it's Uribe and the Colombian military who have come up trumps.
Here's the story of the rescue, as told by official news outlets, and narrated in a press conference by Betancourt herself, shortly after her release, clad in army fatigues and looking in remarkably good order for someone who has spent so long in jungle captivity.
Members of the Colombian armed forces infiltrated the FARC unit responsible for holding the key hostages. The infiltrators managed to have three separate groups of hostages brought together in the jungle south of Bogota, and to convince the local FARC commandant 'Cesar' that the hostages were to be transferred to another site in the helicopter of a fictitious organisation that was supposedly negotiating with current FARC chief Alfonso Cano.
As narrated by Ingrid Betancourt herself, early on Wednesday morning, two white helicopters landed in the jungle clearing. Men identifying themselves as delegates of an unknown international organisation, but wearing Che Guevara t-shirts, got out and spoke with the FARC leaders. But no sooner had the helicopter which was transporting the hostages taken off, than it was revealed to belong to the Colombian armed forces. The four FARC guards were quickly overpowered, and the crew of the helicopter announced; "we're the Colombian army; you're freed". According to Betancourt, the helicopter then nearly crashed, as all the hostages jumped up with joy.
Of course, the release of the hostages is great news. And as a victory for law and order without a drop of blood being spilled, it ranks alongside the Peruvian police sifting through the garbage behind a Lima apartment to track down Shining Path leader Abimael Guzman. Betancourt glowingly speculated that only the Israeli special forces could have pulled off a comparable operation.
For Colombian president Alvaro Uribe, it's a massive victory, for him personally and for his no-compromise approach to the FARC. He and the Colombian army were made to appear magnanimous and humanitarian, as they reportedly left untouched another 60 or so guerillas that were in the same area, and which they had surrounded.
But I wonder if anyone else thinks there is something too good to be true about the story? How did the army operatives infiltrate the FARC so successfully? Were they on the ground with the other guerillas in the same zone, and if so, how long had they been there? And how were the battle-hardened FARC guerillas tricked so easily into delivering their crucial bargaining chip into the hands of an unknown group? Why did the freed American contractors not appear before the Colombian media but were flown straight to the US?
I wonder if there isn't a more complicated tale to be told -- and whether in fact the full story will ever be known.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Bogotá Tales
A story told by Paola's flatmate Olguita about her an experience of her mother's cousin's wife (that description alone may sound a warning, but we'll get back to that later). For now, let's call Olguita's extended family member Rosa.
It was the señora Rosa's first trip to Bogota, and she was very nervous, having heard so much about what a dangerous place it was. Travelling across town on the bus, she was seated next to a man who she thought looked like a suspicious character. While looking out the window at the crowds and sights, she suddenly felt that her purse was lighter in her hand.
Convinced that she had been sneakily robbed, in a flash of panic she turned to the man sitting next to her and snapped: "the wallet!". The man gave a startled look and started to shuffle guiltily away across the seat. Rosa's heart was racing. She clutched her keys in a fist and jabbed them towards the man's ribs. "Give me the wallet" she demanded, her voice shaking.
Looking uneasily at the pointy object being pushed towards his stomach, the man reached slowly into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet, which the señora Rosa snatched back and placed in her purse. The man got up from the seat, beat a hasty retreat to the front of the bus, and got off at the next stop.
When the señora Rosa got to her cousin's place and was able to check her belongings, she found that she had an extra wallet -- belonging to the man on the bus.
Certain aspects of this tale, such as the relation of the protagonist to the story-teller, and the lack of further details (like, what did the señora do then?) raise alarm bells*. It has many of the characteristics of an urban legend. But I guess the point is not so much whether it's true, but that it could be. In Bogotá, the moral says, people can even get mugged by accident.
I actually like better another story told by Olguita, this time about her immediate family. Her cousins had gone out on the town with a friend, taking the family car. The boys were out partying until the small hours, until in a rather inebriated state, they somehow managed to drag the car back home and sneak into the house.
The next day Olguita's uncle asked them how the night had been. "Oh, you know, nothing special, said Olguita's cousin. " We came home really early".
Olguita's uncle nodded sagely. "Yes, isn't it amazing how early they're getting the paper out these days", he mused.
On their arrival home, the boys had parked on top of the recently delivered morning newspaper, which was found jammed under the car's right front tyre.
*This story relies on the tendency not to use possessive pronouns in Spanish for things where ownership is obvious -- so the señora demanded 'la billetera' rather than 'mi billetera'. But it also requires a suspension of disbelief that in a situation of dispute she wouldn't have insisted she wanted 'my wallet'.
It was the señora Rosa's first trip to Bogota, and she was very nervous, having heard so much about what a dangerous place it was. Travelling across town on the bus, she was seated next to a man who she thought looked like a suspicious character. While looking out the window at the crowds and sights, she suddenly felt that her purse was lighter in her hand.
Convinced that she had been sneakily robbed, in a flash of panic she turned to the man sitting next to her and snapped: "the wallet!". The man gave a startled look and started to shuffle guiltily away across the seat. Rosa's heart was racing. She clutched her keys in a fist and jabbed them towards the man's ribs. "Give me the wallet" she demanded, her voice shaking.
Looking uneasily at the pointy object being pushed towards his stomach, the man reached slowly into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet, which the señora Rosa snatched back and placed in her purse. The man got up from the seat, beat a hasty retreat to the front of the bus, and got off at the next stop.
When the señora Rosa got to her cousin's place and was able to check her belongings, she found that she had an extra wallet -- belonging to the man on the bus.
Certain aspects of this tale, such as the relation of the protagonist to the story-teller, and the lack of further details (like, what did the señora do then?) raise alarm bells*. It has many of the characteristics of an urban legend. But I guess the point is not so much whether it's true, but that it could be. In Bogotá, the moral says, people can even get mugged by accident.
I actually like better another story told by Olguita, this time about her immediate family. Her cousins had gone out on the town with a friend, taking the family car. The boys were out partying until the small hours, until in a rather inebriated state, they somehow managed to drag the car back home and sneak into the house.
The next day Olguita's uncle asked them how the night had been. "Oh, you know, nothing special, said Olguita's cousin. " We came home really early".
Olguita's uncle nodded sagely. "Yes, isn't it amazing how early they're getting the paper out these days", he mused.
On their arrival home, the boys had parked on top of the recently delivered morning newspaper, which was found jammed under the car's right front tyre.
*This story relies on the tendency not to use possessive pronouns in Spanish for things where ownership is obvious -- so the señora demanded 'la billetera' rather than 'mi billetera'. But it also requires a suspension of disbelief that in a situation of dispute she wouldn't have insisted she wanted 'my wallet'.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The True Spirit of Christmas
One of the reasons for the success of Christianity in general, and Catholicism in particular, seems to be that as it spread it didn't insist on wiping out every aspect of local religions, but creatively absorbed some of their stories, ceremonies and symbols. It's well known that Easter and Christmas are derived from pagan festivals that pre-exisited Christianity.
A whole lot of extra layers were added as Catholicism spread though Latin America. To this day the old traditions such as voodoo in the Caribbean and earth-worship in the Andes happily co-exist within and alongside Christian contexts. I recall in Guatemala there was a local 'saint' called San Simon who was also the capricious Mayan god Moshimon. People brought offerings of cigars and alcohol to the 'saint' in his church niche in return for spiritual favours.
In western culture we prefer an acknowledged duality -- we gorge on chocolate at Easter and expect presents at Christmas, while occasionally piously reminding ourselves of the 'true spirit' of these occasions. Ironically, the historical process is being repeated, as our new universal religion (capitalism) absorbs the trappings of our older ways.
In Colombia the traditions are still blended more seamlessly. Here, we teach children that the legendary Norse figure of Santa Claus will deliver them gifts at Christmas. In Colombia, the tradition is that it's the Baby Jesus who brings presents. Children are expected to write letters to the Baby Jesus, informing Him what they'd like for Christmas.
You'll excuse my flippancy in noting that as one part of an omniscient Holy Trinity, He will definitely know whether you've been naughty or nice.
A whole lot of extra layers were added as Catholicism spread though Latin America. To this day the old traditions such as voodoo in the Caribbean and earth-worship in the Andes happily co-exist within and alongside Christian contexts. I recall in Guatemala there was a local 'saint' called San Simon who was also the capricious Mayan god Moshimon. People brought offerings of cigars and alcohol to the 'saint' in his church niche in return for spiritual favours.
In western culture we prefer an acknowledged duality -- we gorge on chocolate at Easter and expect presents at Christmas, while occasionally piously reminding ourselves of the 'true spirit' of these occasions. Ironically, the historical process is being repeated, as our new universal religion (capitalism) absorbs the trappings of our older ways.
In Colombia the traditions are still blended more seamlessly. Here, we teach children that the legendary Norse figure of Santa Claus will deliver them gifts at Christmas. In Colombia, the tradition is that it's the Baby Jesus who brings presents. Children are expected to write letters to the Baby Jesus, informing Him what they'd like for Christmas.
You'll excuse my flippancy in noting that as one part of an omniscient Holy Trinity, He will definitely know whether you've been naughty or nice.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
What I'd Left Out
There just hasn't been time to update the blog over the last week and a half. I have to do a bullet point list of where I've been and what I 've done.
As I mentioned, we got to Iquitos in three days and three nights on the boat from Pucallpa. I'll put together a whole story on that some other time.
I was over a week in Iquitos. As well as the motorbike classes, I also participated in an ayahuasca ceremony, which I suppose did "cleanse" my body through repeated vomiting, but disappointingly didn't produce any psychdelic experiences.
We went to visit the Boras and Yahuas tribes, about half an hour from Iquitos by boat, and bought more miscellaneous arts and crafts, while they jumped into native costume, performed a brief traditional dance, and charged us for the experience.
We also visited the "serpentario", an animal santuary perched above the river which included a tame anaconda amenable to being photographed draped around the neck of tourists.
Not to mention the social life and numerous invitations to people's houses to be stuffed full of local cuisine.
Tuesday morning at 6:00 am I took the fast, but extremely cramped, boat to Leticia, wher the frontiers of Peru, Colombia and Brazil meet. I spent four days in Leticia, undertaking some investigations about which I hope to be able to write in more detail some time in the future.
There was another trip to a native community, and some more handling of another anaconda, this time wild, which had eaten seven of the local chickens, and had recently been captured.
On Friday the "dry law" started in Colombia; presidential elections were on Sunday, and no alcohol was allowed to be served throughout the country during the weeknd, presumably so all voters would make a sober choice. To address this inconvenience, we left the country - several blocks down the street into the Brazilian town of Tabatinga.
This didn't turn out to be such a good idea, as the next morning I very nearly missed my flight to Bogota, luckily being saved by my new Letician friends who came to my hotel and woke me up.
I spent the evening in Bogota at the comfortable house of a friend of a friend, and the next day took a taxi through the very quiet city to the airport to catch my flight to Santiago. Seven hours of pleasant flight in the company of a very gregarious girl from Bogota who was going to study in Australia, and I was at my second to last stop.
My uncle and aunt, who live in Viña del Mar, very kindly picked me up, and that's where I am now. My body has had soemthing of a "what the hell have you ben doing to me these last five weeks" attack over the last couple of days, but now I'm on the mend.
Tomorow I'm heading back to Santiago to catch up with a couple of people, and then it's back to NZ and to work. Another time, another place, another life.
As I mentioned, we got to Iquitos in three days and three nights on the boat from Pucallpa. I'll put together a whole story on that some other time.
I was over a week in Iquitos. As well as the motorbike classes, I also participated in an ayahuasca ceremony, which I suppose did "cleanse" my body through repeated vomiting, but disappointingly didn't produce any psychdelic experiences.
We went to visit the Boras and Yahuas tribes, about half an hour from Iquitos by boat, and bought more miscellaneous arts and crafts, while they jumped into native costume, performed a brief traditional dance, and charged us for the experience.
We also visited the "serpentario", an animal santuary perched above the river which included a tame anaconda amenable to being photographed draped around the neck of tourists.
Not to mention the social life and numerous invitations to people's houses to be stuffed full of local cuisine.
Tuesday morning at 6:00 am I took the fast, but extremely cramped, boat to Leticia, wher the frontiers of Peru, Colombia and Brazil meet. I spent four days in Leticia, undertaking some investigations about which I hope to be able to write in more detail some time in the future.
There was another trip to a native community, and some more handling of another anaconda, this time wild, which had eaten seven of the local chickens, and had recently been captured.
On Friday the "dry law" started in Colombia; presidential elections were on Sunday, and no alcohol was allowed to be served throughout the country during the weeknd, presumably so all voters would make a sober choice. To address this inconvenience, we left the country - several blocks down the street into the Brazilian town of Tabatinga.
This didn't turn out to be such a good idea, as the next morning I very nearly missed my flight to Bogota, luckily being saved by my new Letician friends who came to my hotel and woke me up.
I spent the evening in Bogota at the comfortable house of a friend of a friend, and the next day took a taxi through the very quiet city to the airport to catch my flight to Santiago. Seven hours of pleasant flight in the company of a very gregarious girl from Bogota who was going to study in Australia, and I was at my second to last stop.
My uncle and aunt, who live in Viña del Mar, very kindly picked me up, and that's where I am now. My body has had soemthing of a "what the hell have you ben doing to me these last five weeks" attack over the last couple of days, but now I'm on the mend.
Tomorow I'm heading back to Santiago to catch up with a couple of people, and then it's back to NZ and to work. Another time, another place, another life.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Polite and quiet Colombia...??
In the terminal at Ipiales, near Colombia's frontier with Ecuador, a mother makes the sign of the cross in front of her daughter who is about to get on the minibus headed for Cali. An hour down the road, I can see her logic; I 'm making involuntary signs of the cross myself as our driver leans on the accelerator and prepares to overtake another truck on yet another blind mountain corner. Forget guerillas, kidnappings, gun-wielding drug dealers - by far the greatest danger in Colombia, as far as I can tell, is from normal citizens' approach to highway etiquette "Is this guy crazy, or does everyone drive like this here?" I ask the guy in the seat behind me. He grins from under his broad panama hat and shrugs his shoulders. "This is normal".
Staring into the Russian roulette of the blind bend, we gradually inch past the truck; around the corner the next oncoming vehicle is thankfully still some distance away. The driver glances complacently across at the pretty girl he's selected to occupy the seat next to him in the front of the van, then, moustache twitching, leans forward once more onto the accelerator.
The fact that this is a near-universal driving style is probably a blessing in disguise. Vehicles rounding blind corners *expect* to find someone on their side of the road. Most people honk as they head round the bend. Not everyone is as lucky as us, however. On the road to Cali we see the results of two multi-vehicle accidents, as well as an overturned truck-trailer which has spilled its load of sugar bags all over the highway.
Meanwhile, the scenery is utterly spectacular. As green as Colombia's famous emeralds, the hills of the western cordillera are separated by wide valleys and dizzying ravines. We drop into hot lowlands and climb over cloudy hilltops. Ubiquitous banana plants tumble down the hillsides with their floppy fronds, while the pasture lands at higher altitudes bear resemblance to the prettier parts of Northland, New Zealand. On the roadsides the red-tiled roofs of cottages are framed by sunflowers and bougainvillea, with chickens pecking on the grass outside.
Colombia's fame precedes it like no other country in South America. Images of drugs, danger and violence are triggered off by its very name, and when I email my current location friends and family react like Kathleen Turner's timid romance novelist in Romancing the Stone. "You're where!?!" I'm not immune to the prejudices, and have to suppress a chuckle as we pass lorries with big "Made in Medellin" signs on the back canopy. Later, I find that such reactions aren't restricted to ignorant westerners, but extend to customs officers in neighbouring countries. On returning to Ecuador, I'm subjected to extensive search and questioning by Ecuadorean officials - the first time in about fourteen border crossings in South America I've been given more than a cursory glance. Then, boarding a flight from Peru to Argentina, the sight of the Colombia stamp in my passport provokes a flurry of questions and sharper-than-normal review of my bags from the Peruvians.
But nothing is ever quite as you expect; what I see of Colombia turns out to be considerably more laid back than reputation, or the British Foreign Office, would have it. Strongest first impressions, apart from the driving, are people's almost old-world politeness - in a shop or restaurant you're greeted with a bright "A la orden!" ("at your service!") and farewelled with an effusive "con mucho gusto!" ("it's a pleasure!") before you even have a chance to say "gracias". And the food - you could get fat quickly and happily in Colombia. A regular lunch is big, cheap and hearty, while the stomach-stretching bandeja paisa features five kinds of meat, plus eggs, rice and beans. Plus fried banana with every course – you even get it in your soup.
Everyone's heard stories of tourists getting kidnapped in Colombia by leftist guerrrillas who roam the countryside. But to find a guerilla these days, you'd really have to go looking. The dollars poured in by the United States as part of its "War on Drugs" seem to have given the Colombian army the resources to dominate areas where guerillas and right-wing paramilitaries previously roamed freely. While my Lonely Planet warns that even a stretch of the main highway between the frontier and Cali may be under guerilla control, all we see are a series of army patrols every 50 km or so. Some people whisper that there's collaboration between the army and the guerillas to maintain the conflict and keep the dollars flowing in, and I hear stories of a colonel ordered to pull back when his platoon had surrounded and trapped a group of guerillas. The civil war has been going on so long that a whole generation has been born into the guerilla lifestyle , and no one can explain to me exactly what the conflict's ideological basis is, if it still has one.
Nevertheless, many people seem to be cautiously optimistic about their country's future. "Alvaro Uribe is a good president" says Beatriz, who with her husband Hildebrando runs several small businesses in Cali and around. "He's actually interested in the good of the country, not just in lining his own pocket". Not everyone agrees - I see graffiti criticizing "Fascist Uribe's" privatization policies under a bridge in north Cali. Nil, an anthropologist specializing in Afro-American history in Latin America assures me that “Colombia's biggest problem isn't the guerrilla war - it's corruption”. I question him about other people's view that Uribe is an honest president and he shrugs. "Maybe, but he's in the same pot with everyone else". But even he grudgingly agrees that things are probably on the improve.
The city of Cali sprawls on either side of the river Cauca in a wide valley between the western and central cordillera, dominated by the cultivation of sugar cane. It's neither truly ugly nor pretty - the centre is dominated by bland seventies tower blocks, but it's green in a kind of shaggy, unkempt way. The climate is delicious, the equatorial heat moderated by 1,000 metres of altitude and a breeze which springs up from the river in the aftenoon.
Apart from its fame as the Second City of cocaine, behind Medellin, Cali is also renowned for its nightlife. But either I'm missing something, or this too is exaggerated. Along the 6th avenue in north Cali are a string of gaudy discotheques with flashing lights, tinted glass and overeager doormen hustling for customers. Closer inspection, however, reveals that even on a Saturday night they're largely empty. "I would never go out there anyway" says Monica, a recently graduated clinical psychologist. "Those places are where the lower classes go - and the narcotraffickers. As a girl, you don't really want to attract their attention" I go with her and some friends fifteen blocks north to the "Zona Rosa" where there are a number of bars with cover charges playing a mixture of rock, salsa and electronica But even there, the rumba doesn't quite match the all-night drinking and dancing marathons to be experienced in Peru or Argentina.
Maybe everyone is still recovering from the Feria de Cali, the city's major festival which runs from December 25 – January 1. Or maybe it's just not as wild as it's cracked up to be. A more typical experience seems to be a Saturday afternoon in Chipichape, a popular shopping mall in the converted railway station, where people sit around sipping cerveza michelada, beer served with lemon and salt spread round the rim of the glass. In a well-stocked bookshop the attendant cheerfully spends ten minutes helping me get beyond the Garcia Marquez volumes and find the "contemporary" novel I insist on reading. We skim through a range of tales of political corruption and drug-related violence. "This one used to be banned" she says hopefully.
The next week, on something of a caffeine addict's pilgrimmage, I head up to the coffee-growing region three hours north of Cali. Beatriz gives me a lift up as far as the town of Tulua, where she has a restaurant. On the way we're stopped by, successively, the army, the police and traffic police. The first two are probably looking for "guerrillas and drugs" according to Beatriz, but the traffic police just want to check if we have our lights on. It's now compulsory to drive with your lights on in Colombia, as research has shown it reduces accidents (mind you, so does staying on your side of the road), and the police routinely hand out instant fines for failure to do so. Hildebrando has apparently managed both to collect a couple of tickets for having his lights off, and flatten his car's battery by leaving them on. Beatriz shakes her head and says something about "revenue collection"
Some things don't change - I laugh and tell her about people's frustration with speed cameras and quota-filling traffic police in New Zealand. But although she gives hard stares to the series of nervous and scarily youthful-looking officers who stop us, she supports the principle of the checkpoints. "It's good that they're concerned about security" she says.
Back in Cali, on a Sunday afternoon Beatriz and Hildebrando take me on a drive through the south of the city and up to Cerro de Cristo Rey, for a panoramic view of the valley. Sprawling out into the sugar cane fields to the southeast of the city are the new settlements of desplazados, people who have migrated from rural areas, often as refugees from ongoing violence in their homelands. The settlements are home to the grim reality described recently by Martin Amis and mirroring that of Medellin's hillside comunas depicted in novels and films such as La Virgen de los Sicarios and Rosario Tijeras
But while most Colombians have been touched in some way by their country's troubles, they don't exactly appreciate the almost voyueristic focus that they receive in the outside world. Monica gets mad when I show her the Martin Amis article. She is currently applying for two jobs - to work with traumatised desplazados or in a government programme designed to address inter-family violence, a huge problem in Colombia. She also has plenty of stories from her time as an intern in the public hospital. But she's still upset about the obsession with all the worst things about her country. She mutters something about "ignorant foreign journalists", and I have a hard time explaining to her about the brilliance of London Fields and The Information.
Everywhere you go in South America people want to know "what do you think of (insert country/region/village)?" But in Colombia they have an additional question. "What do people in your country who haven't been here think about Colombia?" I have to tell the truth; people think it's dangerous, they're a bit afraid to come and visit. My questioners nod their heads sadly. What exactly, it seems they're wondering, does this beautiful and welcoming country have to do to beat its bad press?
In the terminal at Ipiales, near Colombia's frontier with Ecuador, a mother makes the sign of the cross in front of her daughter who is about to get on the minibus headed for Cali. An hour down the road, I can see her logic; I 'm making involuntary signs of the cross myself as our driver leans on the accelerator and prepares to overtake another truck on yet another blind mountain corner. Forget guerillas, kidnappings, gun-wielding drug dealers - by far the greatest danger in Colombia, as far as I can tell, is from normal citizens' approach to highway etiquette "Is this guy crazy, or does everyone drive like this here?" I ask the guy in the seat behind me. He grins from under his broad panama hat and shrugs his shoulders. "This is normal".
Staring into the Russian roulette of the blind bend, we gradually inch past the truck; around the corner the next oncoming vehicle is thankfully still some distance away. The driver glances complacently across at the pretty girl he's selected to occupy the seat next to him in the front of the van, then, moustache twitching, leans forward once more onto the accelerator.
The fact that this is a near-universal driving style is probably a blessing in disguise. Vehicles rounding blind corners *expect* to find someone on their side of the road. Most people honk as they head round the bend. Not everyone is as lucky as us, however. On the road to Cali we see the results of two multi-vehicle accidents, as well as an overturned truck-trailer which has spilled its load of sugar bags all over the highway.
Meanwhile, the scenery is utterly spectacular. As green as Colombia's famous emeralds, the hills of the western cordillera are separated by wide valleys and dizzying ravines. We drop into hot lowlands and climb over cloudy hilltops. Ubiquitous banana plants tumble down the hillsides with their floppy fronds, while the pasture lands at higher altitudes bear resemblance to the prettier parts of Northland, New Zealand. On the roadsides the red-tiled roofs of cottages are framed by sunflowers and bougainvillea, with chickens pecking on the grass outside.
Colombia's fame precedes it like no other country in South America. Images of drugs, danger and violence are triggered off by its very name, and when I email my current location friends and family react like Kathleen Turner's timid romance novelist in Romancing the Stone. "You're where!?!" I'm not immune to the prejudices, and have to suppress a chuckle as we pass lorries with big "Made in Medellin" signs on the back canopy. Later, I find that such reactions aren't restricted to ignorant westerners, but extend to customs officers in neighbouring countries. On returning to Ecuador, I'm subjected to extensive search and questioning by Ecuadorean officials - the first time in about fourteen border crossings in South America I've been given more than a cursory glance. Then, boarding a flight from Peru to Argentina, the sight of the Colombia stamp in my passport provokes a flurry of questions and sharper-than-normal review of my bags from the Peruvians.
But nothing is ever quite as you expect; what I see of Colombia turns out to be considerably more laid back than reputation, or the British Foreign Office, would have it. Strongest first impressions, apart from the driving, are people's almost old-world politeness - in a shop or restaurant you're greeted with a bright "A la orden!" ("at your service!") and farewelled with an effusive "con mucho gusto!" ("it's a pleasure!") before you even have a chance to say "gracias". And the food - you could get fat quickly and happily in Colombia. A regular lunch is big, cheap and hearty, while the stomach-stretching bandeja paisa features five kinds of meat, plus eggs, rice and beans. Plus fried banana with every course – you even get it in your soup.
Everyone's heard stories of tourists getting kidnapped in Colombia by leftist guerrrillas who roam the countryside. But to find a guerilla these days, you'd really have to go looking. The dollars poured in by the United States as part of its "War on Drugs" seem to have given the Colombian army the resources to dominate areas where guerillas and right-wing paramilitaries previously roamed freely. While my Lonely Planet warns that even a stretch of the main highway between the frontier and Cali may be under guerilla control, all we see are a series of army patrols every 50 km or so. Some people whisper that there's collaboration between the army and the guerillas to maintain the conflict and keep the dollars flowing in, and I hear stories of a colonel ordered to pull back when his platoon had surrounded and trapped a group of guerillas. The civil war has been going on so long that a whole generation has been born into the guerilla lifestyle , and no one can explain to me exactly what the conflict's ideological basis is, if it still has one.
Nevertheless, many people seem to be cautiously optimistic about their country's future. "Alvaro Uribe is a good president" says Beatriz, who with her husband Hildebrando runs several small businesses in Cali and around. "He's actually interested in the good of the country, not just in lining his own pocket". Not everyone agrees - I see graffiti criticizing "Fascist Uribe's" privatization policies under a bridge in north Cali. Nil, an anthropologist specializing in Afro-American history in Latin America assures me that “Colombia's biggest problem isn't the guerrilla war - it's corruption”. I question him about other people's view that Uribe is an honest president and he shrugs. "Maybe, but he's in the same pot with everyone else". But even he grudgingly agrees that things are probably on the improve.
The city of Cali sprawls on either side of the river Cauca in a wide valley between the western and central cordillera, dominated by the cultivation of sugar cane. It's neither truly ugly nor pretty - the centre is dominated by bland seventies tower blocks, but it's green in a kind of shaggy, unkempt way. The climate is delicious, the equatorial heat moderated by 1,000 metres of altitude and a breeze which springs up from the river in the aftenoon.
Apart from its fame as the Second City of cocaine, behind Medellin, Cali is also renowned for its nightlife. But either I'm missing something, or this too is exaggerated. Along the 6th avenue in north Cali are a string of gaudy discotheques with flashing lights, tinted glass and overeager doormen hustling for customers. Closer inspection, however, reveals that even on a Saturday night they're largely empty. "I would never go out there anyway" says Monica, a recently graduated clinical psychologist. "Those places are where the lower classes go - and the narcotraffickers. As a girl, you don't really want to attract their attention" I go with her and some friends fifteen blocks north to the "Zona Rosa" where there are a number of bars with cover charges playing a mixture of rock, salsa and electronica But even there, the rumba doesn't quite match the all-night drinking and dancing marathons to be experienced in Peru or Argentina.
Maybe everyone is still recovering from the Feria de Cali, the city's major festival which runs from December 25 – January 1. Or maybe it's just not as wild as it's cracked up to be. A more typical experience seems to be a Saturday afternoon in Chipichape, a popular shopping mall in the converted railway station, where people sit around sipping cerveza michelada, beer served with lemon and salt spread round the rim of the glass. In a well-stocked bookshop the attendant cheerfully spends ten minutes helping me get beyond the Garcia Marquez volumes and find the "contemporary" novel I insist on reading. We skim through a range of tales of political corruption and drug-related violence. "This one used to be banned" she says hopefully.
The next week, on something of a caffeine addict's pilgrimmage, I head up to the coffee-growing region three hours north of Cali. Beatriz gives me a lift up as far as the town of Tulua, where she has a restaurant. On the way we're stopped by, successively, the army, the police and traffic police. The first two are probably looking for "guerrillas and drugs" according to Beatriz, but the traffic police just want to check if we have our lights on. It's now compulsory to drive with your lights on in Colombia, as research has shown it reduces accidents (mind you, so does staying on your side of the road), and the police routinely hand out instant fines for failure to do so. Hildebrando has apparently managed both to collect a couple of tickets for having his lights off, and flatten his car's battery by leaving them on. Beatriz shakes her head and says something about "revenue collection"
Some things don't change - I laugh and tell her about people's frustration with speed cameras and quota-filling traffic police in New Zealand. But although she gives hard stares to the series of nervous and scarily youthful-looking officers who stop us, she supports the principle of the checkpoints. "It's good that they're concerned about security" she says.
Back in Cali, on a Sunday afternoon Beatriz and Hildebrando take me on a drive through the south of the city and up to Cerro de Cristo Rey, for a panoramic view of the valley. Sprawling out into the sugar cane fields to the southeast of the city are the new settlements of desplazados, people who have migrated from rural areas, often as refugees from ongoing violence in their homelands. The settlements are home to the grim reality described recently by Martin Amis and mirroring that of Medellin's hillside comunas depicted in novels and films such as La Virgen de los Sicarios and Rosario Tijeras
But while most Colombians have been touched in some way by their country's troubles, they don't exactly appreciate the almost voyueristic focus that they receive in the outside world. Monica gets mad when I show her the Martin Amis article. She is currently applying for two jobs - to work with traumatised desplazados or in a government programme designed to address inter-family violence, a huge problem in Colombia. She also has plenty of stories from her time as an intern in the public hospital. But she's still upset about the obsession with all the worst things about her country. She mutters something about "ignorant foreign journalists", and I have a hard time explaining to her about the brilliance of London Fields and The Information.
Everywhere you go in South America people want to know "what do you think of (insert country/region/village)?" But in Colombia they have an additional question. "What do people in your country who haven't been here think about Colombia?" I have to tell the truth; people think it's dangerous, they're a bit afraid to come and visit. My questioners nod their heads sadly. What exactly, it seems they're wondering, does this beautiful and welcoming country have to do to beat its bad press?
Monday, March 28, 2005
Crazy beat journeys across the dark (South) American night...
Hmm, my deadlines say I've left myself 2 days to get from Popayan in Colombia (two-three hours southwest of Cali) to Màncora in northern Peru. Got to cross all of Ecuador in one go. It's a mad nerve-fraying trip through three countries, with about fifty changes of transport, and the whole dirty underbelly of non-luxury slow lane Latin American transit, not to mention the border crossings....Here's how it happens.
Popayan, Colombia. Good breakfast at hostal. Taxi to bus station.
10 am minibus Popayan-Ipiales, seven hours. Smooth enough ride through beautiful green hills of southwest Colombia. A snatched lunch of potato chips and chocolate because the roadside restaurant we stop at is so crowded there's no chance of getting a proper meal in the 20 minutes available.
Taxi, Ipiales bus station - frontier with Ecuador. Exit stamp from Colombia. Ten minutes negotiation with money changer to get acceptable exchange rate. Then 45 minutes revision by Ecuadorean customs officials looking for drugs. Sample conversation:
Customs official "Do you consume drugs?"
Me: "No"
Official: "Have you tried drugs?"
Me: "What, like, in my life?"
Official: "Yes"
Me: "Well, yeah, I guess"
Official: "What, just experimentally, to see what it's like?"
Me: "Well, yeah"
Offical: "Ah, that's ok then"
Entrance stamp to Ecuador. Collectivo, frontier -Tulcán bus station.
Dinner of cheese sandwich and chocolate from a store by the bus station. Bus at 7:30 pm Tulcán - Quito, 5 1/2 hours. Seems to stop every couple of hundred metres to pick up or drop off passengers. Steadily worsening headache reaches epic proportions as we pull into Quito. Taxi from bus station finds first hostal full. End up staying at relatively expensive hotel in the new town ($13 USD), but allows rest and recovery in peace.
I permit myself one day in Quito with good breakfast, lunch and dinner. Of course it's the start of carnaval and everyone's travelling....not a single ticket to the frontier at Huaquillas for the night. Compromise and get the last remaining ticket for Cuenca, in the south of Ecuador, for 9pm. Guy at the bus companuy advises me to get to the terminal early, but time drifts by and it's 8:35 when I collect my stuff and get a taxi. Don't think it will be a problem since I walked to the bus station in 30 minutes during the day. But taxi has to go by different route, traffic is heavy, it takes over 30 minutes, I'm panicking. Past 9:00 when I get dropped off outside the bus station, still have to negotiate roundabout entrance and three flights of stairs to Quito's crazy bus terminal.
When I submerge myself in the zoo of buses waiting to depart (no such thing as a "platform" in Quito), my bus has already left. Guy takes me (panicking) out the back gate and round the corner; all the buses leaving the terminal have to do a big loop and exit here to get onto the street. There's a long queue; possibly my bus hasn't left yet. It hasn't - I manage to jump on and look for my seat. Driver has let on about 7 additional people, woman is in my seat. She vacates it for me (I feel a bit guilty) but her, her two daughters and another guy are nested around my seat, a single spot in the very back of the bus. There's nowhere to put my legs, so I have to rest them on some plastic moulding in front of my seat,where I also dump my backpacks (no chance to stow the big one in the luggage compartment as the bus was moving when I got on).
As usual, there's a guy on the bus there to sell/beg. Starts with some jokes; sample:
"I have 100 turkeys and I vendo (sell) one, how many do I have?"
Someone on the bus: "99"
Guy: "No! I have 100 turkeys and I vendo one, how many do I have?"
Someone else on the bus: "99!"
Guy: "No! I still have 100 turkeys - one of them vendado (bandaged)! I had 100 turkeys and I vendè (bandaged) one"
Everybody: "groaaaan"
(note of explication: the first person of both vender (to sell) and vendar (to bandage) is the same: yo vendo...very groanworthy pun.) I buy a couple of his trinkets.
Nine hours to Cuenca, first very hot in the back of the bus, then cold. Woman who had my seat complains and whimpers all the way, and I lose all sympathy. She could have taken the bus in the morning, dammit.
Anyway, I'm stuck with my feet 30 degrees above my head for the whole ride - not too uncomfortable by the standards of this bus, but the novelty certainly starts to wear off.
Hmm, my deadlines say I've left myself 2 days to get from Popayan in Colombia (two-three hours southwest of Cali) to Màncora in northern Peru. Got to cross all of Ecuador in one go. It's a mad nerve-fraying trip through three countries, with about fifty changes of transport, and the whole dirty underbelly of non-luxury slow lane Latin American transit, not to mention the border crossings....Here's how it happens.
Popayan, Colombia. Good breakfast at hostal. Taxi to bus station.
10 am minibus Popayan-Ipiales, seven hours. Smooth enough ride through beautiful green hills of southwest Colombia. A snatched lunch of potato chips and chocolate because the roadside restaurant we stop at is so crowded there's no chance of getting a proper meal in the 20 minutes available.
Taxi, Ipiales bus station - frontier with Ecuador. Exit stamp from Colombia. Ten minutes negotiation with money changer to get acceptable exchange rate. Then 45 minutes revision by Ecuadorean customs officials looking for drugs. Sample conversation:
Customs official "Do you consume drugs?"
Me: "No"
Official: "Have you tried drugs?"
Me: "What, like, in my life?"
Official: "Yes"
Me: "Well, yeah, I guess"
Official: "What, just experimentally, to see what it's like?"
Me: "Well, yeah"
Offical: "Ah, that's ok then"
Entrance stamp to Ecuador. Collectivo, frontier -Tulcán bus station.
Dinner of cheese sandwich and chocolate from a store by the bus station. Bus at 7:30 pm Tulcán - Quito, 5 1/2 hours. Seems to stop every couple of hundred metres to pick up or drop off passengers. Steadily worsening headache reaches epic proportions as we pull into Quito. Taxi from bus station finds first hostal full. End up staying at relatively expensive hotel in the new town ($13 USD), but allows rest and recovery in peace.
I permit myself one day in Quito with good breakfast, lunch and dinner. Of course it's the start of carnaval and everyone's travelling....not a single ticket to the frontier at Huaquillas for the night. Compromise and get the last remaining ticket for Cuenca, in the south of Ecuador, for 9pm. Guy at the bus companuy advises me to get to the terminal early, but time drifts by and it's 8:35 when I collect my stuff and get a taxi. Don't think it will be a problem since I walked to the bus station in 30 minutes during the day. But taxi has to go by different route, traffic is heavy, it takes over 30 minutes, I'm panicking. Past 9:00 when I get dropped off outside the bus station, still have to negotiate roundabout entrance and three flights of stairs to Quito's crazy bus terminal.
When I submerge myself in the zoo of buses waiting to depart (no such thing as a "platform" in Quito), my bus has already left. Guy takes me (panicking) out the back gate and round the corner; all the buses leaving the terminal have to do a big loop and exit here to get onto the street. There's a long queue; possibly my bus hasn't left yet. It hasn't - I manage to jump on and look for my seat. Driver has let on about 7 additional people, woman is in my seat. She vacates it for me (I feel a bit guilty) but her, her two daughters and another guy are nested around my seat, a single spot in the very back of the bus. There's nowhere to put my legs, so I have to rest them on some plastic moulding in front of my seat,where I also dump my backpacks (no chance to stow the big one in the luggage compartment as the bus was moving when I got on).
As usual, there's a guy on the bus there to sell/beg. Starts with some jokes; sample:
"I have 100 turkeys and I vendo (sell) one, how many do I have?"
Someone on the bus: "99"
Guy: "No! I have 100 turkeys and I vendo one, how many do I have?"
Someone else on the bus: "99!"
Guy: "No! I still have 100 turkeys - one of them vendado (bandaged)! I had 100 turkeys and I vendè (bandaged) one"
Everybody: "groaaaan"
(note of explication: the first person of both vender (to sell) and vendar (to bandage) is the same: yo vendo...very groanworthy pun.) I buy a couple of his trinkets.
Nine hours to Cuenca, first very hot in the back of the bus, then cold. Woman who had my seat complains and whimpers all the way, and I lose all sympathy. She could have taken the bus in the morning, dammit.
Anyway, I'm stuck with my feet 30 degrees above my head for the whole ride - not too uncomfortable by the standards of this bus, but the novelty certainly starts to wear off.
In Cuenca, find I've missed the direct connection to Huaquillas so instead I jump on a bus headed to Machala, the self-proclaimed "banana capital of the world", 3 1/2 hours away to make the connection there. We pass fields full of *lots* of banana plants. Driver lets me off at the junction where the buses to Huaquillas pass and, as luck would have it, one passes by soon. Jump on and head all the way to Huaquillas. When I get there it turns out the Ecuador border control post where you get your exit stamp was a couple of kilometres before the town itself. Bus driver says "Hey, you should have told me you wanted to stop there". Well...he did ask me "frontera?" when I got on the bus and I said yes sir...
So I have to take a taxi back to get my exit stamp, then another one back to Huaquillas...the town is shared by Ecuador and Peru, so you walk through a crowded market, round a corner, over a bridge and voila!, you're in Peru. Unfortunately, the Peruvian immigration post is out of town, another 4km down the road...
There's no official taxis, and in the crowded market hover a menagerie of conmen and shifty money changers, all looking to connive a quick buck. I'm descended on by an entourage offering to change my money, carry my bag, give me a ride to Tumbes (first town of any size in Peru). As it happens, I do need to change $20 USD (the sole currency in Ecuador), though I also have some Peruvian soles. I say ok, maybe I'll change some money...
Shifty money changer: "How much you want to change?"
Me: "$20"
SMC: "Only $20! That won't be enough! Today's a holiday in Peru, nothing's open"
Me: "Well, that's all I've got..anyway I can get more money out from an ATM"
SMC: "There's no ATMs...you need to change more cash"
Me: "There's an ATM in Tumbes"
SMC: "Nooo...not until Chiclayo" (about 500km away down the coast). "You'll really need more"
Me (losing patience): "Look, I happen to *know* there's an ATM in Tumbes...anyway, I only *have* bloody $20 to change!
So money changer guy shrugs and whips out his calculator. "I'll give you a rate of 3.5" he says. Which is weird, because the official rate varies between 3.25 and 3.35 soles to the dollar...But he's already punching away on his calculator. "Twenty times three point five is......42!" he announces. "What!" I take the calculator from him. "I think you'll find that twenty times three point five is..." the "equals" button is not where it should be, so he helpfully leans over and presses a button. On the screen appears the number 42. "Fourty-two" he confirms.
This is where I get mad. Some kind of lack-of-sleep too-much-travelling thing snaps, and I start yelling at my entourage. "Just piss off, all of you! Yes, piss right off!" In particular to SMC guy "How stupid do you think I am? I may be a gringo, but it doesn't make me an idiot! Twenty times three point five is 42? Jesus, even twenty times *three* is sixty!" (the kind of ironic thing here is that my brain is too tired and frazzled to actually calculate 20 * 3.5)
SMC has started to shuffle off, but his face lights up when I say this and he starts back. "Sixty! I'll give you sixty then". "No! Bugger off!" I shout. I think what offends me is not so much the brazenness of the attempted rip off, as the appalling insult to my intelligence.
So I wander out the other end of the market and cross the bridge. The thing is, I still need to get to the Peruvian immigration post somehow, so I'm forced to converse with the next set of shady looking guys who come up rubbing their hands and offering me rides. But I lose patience rapidly when they offer me exorbitant deals. "All the way to Tumbes for only $20!". Look, I know I can get a collectivo from immigration to Tumbes for a couple of soles, I just want to get to the immigration post, I explain. "OK, to Tumbes for $15!" they say.
I'm about to despair when I spot a uniformed Peruvian official walking along ahead of me, a police or immigration officer. I rush to catch up and say please señor, can you help me. "Can you point out to me some kind of official taxi to get to the frontier, and tell me how much I should pay to get there, and to Tumbes?" I ask. The Peruvian policeman looks amused but kind. He points to an old guy leaning against and ancient Buick sedan. "That gentleman will take you to the immigration post, and shouldn't charge you more than one sol. Then you can get a collectivo to Tumbes, from opposite the immigration, for one sol fifty".
I feel relieved to have encountered an honest, helpful Peruvian official (no, that's not an oxymoron!), and go over to where the old guy is. We wait for a while for other people to show up, but when no one does, I say I'll pay him the full five soles ($1.50) to get to the frontier. From there it all gets easier. I pass through immigration, change my dollars with the official money changers sitting outside (suspiciously inspecting every note, to their amusement) and then jump on the collectivo headed for Tumbes.
In Tumbes people are nice, and helpful! The guy who gives me a ride to the central plaza in his moto-taxi (ubiquitous three-wheeled buggies with motorbike engines) explains where the ATMs are, where to eat, and how to find the collectivos to Mancora. I get money out, the food is great, people in the restaurant are also super nice, and the plaza in Tumbes is pretty with murals and mosaics. Having eaten my first proper meal since Quito, I'm feeling relatively sane. I find the collectivo to Mancora, which is another hour and a half down the road.
The guy who collects the money and shouts "Mancora! Mancora!" has to lean against the door of the minivan to keep to closed as we rattle along through the scrubby coastal desert. But it's all good - there's a sweet warm breeze blowing through the window, and I'm about to finally reach my destination and chill out. Mancora is a popular spot "the most beautiful beach in Peru" supposedly, and it's full with holidayers from Lima and from Ecuador. But I eventually find a little cell of a room in a hotel/restaurant one block from the beach, jump into a blissfully cold shower and think about getting some beer.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
UPDATE
Flew to Quito 19th January, headed to the frontier with Colombia, spent almost two weeks in Colombia, two days crazy travelling from Popayan in southwest Colombia to Máncora in northern Peru, couple of days on the beach in Máncora, two days in Chiclayo and around, a day in Trujillo, down to Lima where I met Paola and we spent a couple of days before heading back to Arequipa. Have a ticket for Friday night on a small airline from Tacna in southern Peru to Córdoba in Argentina. Intend to spend a couple of days there before continuing on to Buenos Aires for almost a week, then via Mendoza to Santiago again, from where I fly out to Rio on the 3rd of March. Have until the12th in Brazil, then fly Rio-Miami-London on the 12th-13th. Four days there to catch up with friends, then complete the circumnavigation of the globe on the 17th-19th, arriving back in Wellington on the 20th to start work on the 21st.
Stories are coming, don't panic! Keep checking this space over the next couple of weeks, I'll get them finished as soon as possible.
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