I was sitting there minding my own breakfast when the family
pet leaned up against my leg and then stretched out on the floor exhorting me
to rub his belly. He expressed himself
with something between an oink and a soft grunt. I don’t remember ever having rubbed a pig’s
belly before, and I deeply regret not having a photo to share. Sorry.
We had arrived in Buenos Aires the afternoon before, the
little town next to the big finca called Las Pavas that has been the center of a
land dispute since 2009. I was once
again at the home of Misael and Edith. I
wanted details on the news that six more families had decided to build houses
on their parcelas outside of town. This a
tangible, hopeful shift based partly on the fact that 14 members of the
paramilitary group that the palm oil company has been paying to threaten
people, burn houses and destroy crops were arrested and jailed about a year ago. Misael interrupted my question to tell me
that the man who had previously held the position that we in the US might
describe as “mayor of the county” had been arrested just the day before on
charges of corruption. He also told us
that a person who had been very helpful in the regional resettlement of
displaced persons had just been appointed to a leadership position at the
national level. It had been several
years since I had heard good news related to Las Pavas.
Later that day we visited the fish project just outside of
town that I had seen getting started last year and a new egg production project
run by a group of women in the cooperative.
Four hundred eggs a day is a big deal out in the campo. And after the celebration in Guayabo two
weeks ago I was feeling more upbeat than I ever had here.
We stayed that night with Naudis and José who are staying in
the community encampment built right next to the palm oil company house where
the guards live. It was the peaceful re-entry
and construction of this encampment by the people who had been evicted several
years earlier that won them Colombia’s national peace prize in 2013. Families have been rotating living there ever
since. When Naudis agreed to move from
her house to the encampment a few months
ago, she wanted to shift the message from the simple, “We are here,” to a more
intentional statement of who they are, and who they want to be.
Most of you reading this would have a hard time functioning in
this kind of space with no running water or electricity, and it might be
difficult for you to grasp the Naudis and her husband rigged up a gravity fed
shower, a luxury here. No more bucket baths. She was able to get support for two shelves full
of books for a children’s library, the first children’s books I have ever seen
in the campo. They have plans for a kid’s
soccer field, and a space where the farm kids can come to work together on
their homework. Her energy was so
beautiful.
José guided us around the farms the following day, a
four-hour walk in ninety-degree heat following muddy paths made by tractors,
cows, horses, and boots. There was also
a shortcut through the woods where there were no paths at all just so we could
watch men cutting perfectly proportioned boards, freehand with giant chainsaws. They followed straight lines snapped with string
soaked in old motor oil instead of chalk like I would have used. It was a brilliant technique, as the oil was
dark and straight as if a giant ball point pen had drawn the line, and the
chainsaw couldn’t blow it away like it could my chalk.
