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Landmine Monitor writer and editor Sebastian Kasack undertook a mission to Colombia earlier this year, where his field research focused on mine risk education and victim assistance. Here is his report from the field.
"We need to start our return to Sincelejo by 4pm,” José Francisco had told Camilo and me. For security reasons it is not wise to be on the road after dawn in this remote municipality of Colombia. The war in Colombia takes mainly place at night.
My watch showed 4:05pm, and we were still in the middle of a meeting with community members from Zambrano including the mayor, the ombudsperson, local leaders and landmine survivors or survivors of deceased victims. I was getting nervous. Was I being too German? But soon after José Francisco said it was time for us to get going. Still, with final words and goodbyes it took another 10 minutes or so until we did get moving. On our way back, accompanied by José Francisco’s bodyguard and driver, all the military forces which had lined the roads on our way to Zambrano had disappeared. “All troops are hiding now in the forest because the armed groups start moving in the dark," José Francisco explained as if he had read my mind. When we entered the next larger town he checked his watch. Did I see him sigh in relief – or was it my imagination?
Zambrano is a little town on the Magdalena River in the northern part of Colombia, in the department of Bolivar. Zambrano has suffered badly not only from paramilitary massacres but also from homemade mines from FARC, the largest armed group in Colombia. Our meeting would not have been possible a year ago, I was told. Due to the demobilization of the paramilitary groups but also due to a more forceful presence of the army, the area had become more accessible. Zambrano is part of a geographical region called Montes de María, a FARC stronghold for many years but also known for numerous paramilitary attacks. The result: more than 100 villages had been abandoned and 2,600 persons displaced. People were slowly starting to return, but one of the risks they are facing are unexploded ordnance (UXO) and possibly landmines.
Zambrano itself suffers from explosive devices laid by FARC against a timber plantation and factory. Apparently, FARC is targeting the owner because he refuses to pay “protection money." Those who suffer are the ordinary forest workers. Since 2004 there have been six incidents, five men died, three men were injured. What is worse, at least one of these incidents involved a boy who had been forced to ”guide” the way for the army. He lost both of his legs. But we also hear a positive story: One of the participants from a recent mine risk education session encountered an unknown device when working in the forest. He reported to the local authorities and, indeed, it was one of the artificial explosive devices that trigger when touched or manipulated, a self-made landmine.
José Francisco Restrepo is the coordinator of the Colombian Campaign Against Landmines (CCCM) in the neighboring department, Sucre, based in Sincelejo. He is a University professor but also a well known activist. He agreed to prepare a visitors program for me as part of my in-country research on Mine Risk Education and Victim Assistance in Colombia for Landmine Monitor Report 2007. Camilo Serna, Program Coordinator for CCCM, based in Bogotá, accompanied me on this visit to the Montes de María region. In the two following days we held two more community meetings, visited one of the abandoned villages, and met with government representatives in Sucre. I even held a lecture and round of debate with some of his students on the last morning prior to flying back to Bogotá.
A few days later I find myself in the Andes in southern central Colombia. This time Sandra Velasco accompanied me, a Colombian colleague from the Landmine Monitor Editorial Team. We want to go to Silvia, a small, picturesque colonial style town near Popayan, in the department of Cauca. The inhabitants are mostly indigenous. Shall we rent a car for the day? Too expensive. “We can take the local bus if you don’t mind," suggests Paulo, the CCCM coordinator in Cauca. So we did. The trip was crowded and leg room is not quite the same as in European buses but we made it safely up the mountains.
Several indigneous groups live in the areas surrounding Silvia. They do not want to be part of the armed conflict and do not bear weapons. Nevertheless, they far too often become victims of armed attacks from all sides in the conflict. Mines and unexploded ordnance are taking their toll in the municipalities of Silvia, Jambaló and Caldono.
We are meeting Samuel Tombé, head of an indigenous NGO aiming to reduce the risks from living with mines and UXO. Previously he had worked in a different NGO working against the threats posed by mines and UXO in Cauca but then started his own in order to address the specificities of his own indigenous group. Samuel and his colleagues are indigenous themselves, speak some of the local languages, and know how best to integrate the issue of mines into the holistic philosophy and world concept typical for these people. But some people do not like what Samuel and his NGO are undertaking. “I have received serious threats," Samuel tells us. In the coming days I witness how CCCM at national level mobilizes every possible means to help protect him as much as possible. Samuel says, the indigenous community already did a traditional ceremony for him to provide protection.
We needed to head on as we still had quite a program in Popayan this day: we met two landmine survivors, who were receiving support from CCCM and various governmental institutions involved in physical and socio-economic rehabilitation, and another NGO active against landmines, Tierra de Paz.
