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Four Blue Benches, by MB Hopkins

Four Blue Benches
by Dayton artist,
MB Hopkins

Inspired by the murders of four
young men by the paramilitary
in La Pedregosa, Colombia


 

 

Four Blue Benches
Margaret Knapke
December 29, 2002
 

War is as complex as political economy, and as simple as grief. 

Dayton artist MB Hopkins was inspired to capture a particular incident from the war in Colombia, one recounted by people who endured it. Their story and her painting, Four Blue Benches, offer texture to the claim - accurate but often abstract -- that U. S. military aid to Colombia serves global corporate interests at the expense of the Colombian people. 

I heard their story as part of a Witness for Peace delegation to Colombia in August of 2002. Earlier, in the capital city of Bogota, we had met with people from across the political spectrum -- representing the church, human rights organizations, social research and drug policy groups, trade unions, former combatants, the business sector, military officers, and U. S. embassy personnel. Then the delegation divided to visit the Santander and Cauca provinces. 

My group spent the early part of one morning making our way from Cauca's capital city, Popayan, to a remote community called La Pedregosa. There we met our Colombian hosts, campesinos (farmers) all, in their simple yet rustically beautiful church. We sat on wooden benches painted an electric blue, in striking counterpoint to the heavier earth tones of wood and brick. 

We delegates suspected we might need to build trust with these Colombians. After all, they likely recognized our government -- with its pricey "Plan Colombia" helicopters, bullets, toxic fumigants, and perversely feel-good rhetoric -- as an accomplice to their repression. Might they see U. S. citizens as accomplices, too?

So we spoke individually of our political work in the U. S., about how we are building solidarity with Latin America in our respective communities. That introduction, and the fact that almost all in our delegation had served time in federal prisons for opposing the School of the Americas, seemed to win their confidence. Finally, representatives of La Pedregosa and ten neighboring communities began to describe their many self-help initiatives. 

I say neighboring communities, but these neighbors had traveled dangerous roads -- frequented by three separate groups of armed actors, all of them abusive of human rights -- to attend this meeting. But come they did, wanting to explain their challenges with respect to healthcare, childcare, education, escalating attacks by armed actors against the civilian population, and the destabilizing effects of economic globalization. 

A quick word on globalization: Reaganomics! Today's proponents of economic globalization offer a warmed-over version of 1980's trickle-down theory, namely, that one fine day the corporate profits reaped in rapidly expanding, deregulated "free trade zones" will improve the lives of all -- despite the immediate and severe costs of such profiteering to the majority! But so far the trend is decidedly trickle-up. The income gap between rich and poor nations went from 44 to 1 in 1973, to 72 to 1 in 2000. And the billionaire club tripled from 1989 to 1996! 

Trickle-down optimism is understandably a hardsell among Colombia's poor, including the farmers of Cauca. The destabilizing effects of globalization they named for us include:


1. damage to human health and the natural environment, especially as
    caused by the government's toxic fumigation of coca (and often food)
    crops; 

2. the displacement of indigenous and Afro-Colombians from lands rich
    in oil; 

3. an encroaching agribusiness with its competitive advantage in the
    marketplace, and the displacement of small farmers from their lands
    (many of whom are mestizo, i.e., of mixed Spanish and indigenous
    blood);
 
4. an increasing and forced reliance on imported crops;
 
5. and the introduction of what the campesinos call "seeds of death."
    Crops grown from these imported, genetically-modified seeds do not
    reproduce further seeds, locking farmers into purchasing seeds
    forever.



In Colombia (as elsewhere), working for a better life despite repressive conditions can make one a special target of armed actors. But repression is particularly intense in Colombia: for example, for every five trade unionists murdered in the world, four of them are Colombian! Nevertheless, one campesino explained his decision to organize for change in this way: "Sometimes people fear getting involved, but in reality it's when one does not get involved that the war comes to you. If you think that you can be neutral and the bullets will fly past you, you are mistaken." 

And many bullets are flying. Of the three armed groups, only the Colombian army is legal -- although many of its behaviors are not! Historically the Colombian army has the worst human rights record in the entire Western Hemisphere, yet it has received over $1 billion worth of U. S. military aid since 2000. And now, despite that army's mandate to fight all illegal armed actors in Colombia, there is abundant evidence that the military actually works closely with the second armed group, the paramilitaries or paras. The paras commit about 75% of the human rights abuses, often with logistical and intelligence support from the army. Guerrilla factions constitute the third armed group. Again, all three -- regular army, paramilitaries and guerrillas -- have demonstrated flagrant disregard for human rights in the pursuit of their varying political and economic agendas. The dead in this war are overwhelmingly civilian. 

By mid-afternoon, we had shared lunch and our many reports on community projects. It was time for most of the Colombians to return to their homes and fields, granting the few families remaining with us some privacy. Doors were closed to the lengthening rays of the sun, and family members began to share their painful testimony and palpable grief. This, then, is finally the story behind Four Blue Benches. Names have been withheld for safety reasons, by request.


The eldest man began. Probably in his sixties, he looked much older. On November 24, 2000, armed men came to his home, and held him captive there along with his wife and sons. After many hours, the intruders finally identified themselves as belonging to the AUC, an umbrella organization of paramilitaries. At this point they took the two sons (aged 25 and 27) from the home -- instructing the parents to stay behind, or the paras "wouldn't be responsible for what they did." Later the parents discovered their sons had been taken into La Pedregosa, placed against the wall of the church, and shot to death. 

A younger farmer, probably not yet 40 years old, spoke next. His wife leaned against him, as if for support, listening intently. Early that same November morning this campesino was driving his truck, with his 16-year-old son following on his motorbike. The father was allowed through a paramilitary roadblock, but the son was stopped and asked for paperwork. The father, assuming his boy would soon follow, continued on his way. 

When he did miss his son and returned to the roadblock to find him, the paras pushed the father to the ground and pointed their guns at him. He could see his boy and another lying by the roadside, tied up. They had been beaten and were bleeding, but still alive. Both were taken away, and eventually brought to the churchyard, where they too were shot. The father, only slightly embarrassed by his tears, concluded, "After they were killed, we could only flee from the violence." 

A third man offered more details. He explained that the second young man seen lying by the road had not gotten off his motorbike fast enough when stopped at the roadblock; he appeared to be resisting. His arms were tied behind him and he fell, striking his forehead on a rock. (At this description, the mother of this fourth victim began to cry quietly. This was her only testimony.) 

The speaker then told of his own encounter with the paramilitaries. "Guerrillas had passed through this area. The paras later arrived with a list of so-called collaborators. They began to show up in the communities, claiming to look for guerrillas in order to protect the civilian population. I told the paras that armed actors would occasionally pass through, but the community did not know who they were. One para replied, 'It sounds like the whole community is collaborating. You are lying to us.' " (Despite the accusation, this speaker's family was not harmed.)

He continued: "One of the motorbikes taken at the roadblock was burned by the paramilitaries. When the gas tank exploded, guerrillas began to fire on those paras. People ran through the town, dodging crossfire. I think the paras must have had technical support, because as soon as the guerrillas began to fire, a long line of men approached -- they appeared to be the army.

"We were told to get out because the situation was so bad. But I couldn't leave because I was caring for sick people. We had to stay prone in my house from 6 am to 7 pm, because the bullets were flying.

"Finally, at about 6:30 pm the paras began to leave. We found the four victims near the church, where they had been shot. We went as a group and brought the bodies into the church -- and laid them out on these blue benches. 

"This was the second massacre in this area. Some families left the community. Many community leaders had to leave -- good, honorable, indigenous families. I worry about … when they return." 

Wiping his eyes, he declared, "These are not tears of fear. They are tears of outrage at the injustice." 

On wooden benches painted like sky, we cried too. The families' grief -- so much loss, anger, love and courage -- strained toward a just and peaceful future. Heavy like wood, yet electric and expansive like sky, this grief was not so simple.

 

The painting called Four Blue Benches belongs with the families who shared their story with us. The Dayton Pledge of Resistance (POR) decided to make a gift of MB Hopkins' image to the community of La Pedregosa. We made an enlarged print of it, suitable for hanging in their church or other public place, and POR member John Roberts made a beautiful cedar frame for it. The gift made its way to Colombia inJanuary of 2003 with another Witness for Peace (WFP) delegation, and was delivered to the community -- months after their commemoration of the second anniversary of the massacre.  This photo shows Witness for Peace Colombia Team member Ryan Calkins presenting the print to the community.
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“The world may be big, but by acting
in solidarity we can make it small.”

 - community leader     
   from La Pedregosa   

 

 

 

Readers can find photographs of the people of La Pedregosa -- although not of the victims' families -- at http://www.circlevision.org/colombia/pedregosa/pedregosa1.html.  Other photographs from the delegation are also at the Circlevision site. Tom Bottolene took the beautiful photographs and maintains the website with his partner, Pepperwolf, who also participated in the delegation. 

Information on Witness for Peace is available at www.witnessforpeace.org.  

 

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