Showing posts with label Quibdo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quibdo. Show all posts

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Indigenous People's Health Clinic, Quibdo, Colombia

These little boys greeted us as we arrived and were more than happy to stand still for a snapshot. The blue stains on their faces are from a berry that grows in the forest used for face painting. The adults have elaborate and intricate designs sometimes—the stain lasts about a week.

Laughing children were our first welcome to a Health Clinic in Quibdo, Colombia. These children and their parents, indigenous peoples, come here from the depths of the Colombian forest to receive health care. Some arrive by boat, some by foot, and its often a two-week journey.

I had a chance to visit this unique clinic supported by Catholic Relief Services recently and found out much about the health care challenges these courageous, gentle people face because of their living environment. One of the biggest health problems is anemia due to a diet of two main food staples, maize and plantains.

The water they drink is usually contaminated with microbes and causes stomach problems and the bloated bellies of many of the children was an indication of this problem. The families arrive here hoping to get care for a number of illnesses, diarrhea, pneumonia, tuberculosis, malaria and leshmaniasis.

I also met two dedicated workers who for the last fifteen years have helped guide sick people from the jungle to the doors of this clinic. And with only four full time employees for an estimated 5,000 people they are very busy indeed. Without the help of Catholic Relief Services and its partners disease and poverty would be the only story to tell about these people. But here, they’ll also get training in hygiene and agriculture to improve their lives when they return to the forests they love.

When I left I thought how the smiles and optimism of the children of the forest was a tribute to the hope CRS brings to the many places we serve.


© Copyright 2009 Guy Arceneaux All rights reserved

Monday, January 19, 2009

Peace Building Goes to School





As we pass shacks perched on stilts, no windowpanes or doors, I try to imagine a student climbing the rough-hewn stairs after a day at the nearby high school.

The road heaves our van left and right as we slowly negotiate the uneven road surface. We are heading to a school in the hills outside of Quibdo, in the department of Choco, Colombia to visit a unique peace-building program called CyberBridges.

I’m accompanied on this visit by Jim Stipe, CRS staff photographer, Matthew Bristow, translator and Rigoberto Patiño from the CRS Colombia office in Bogotá.

Choco has the second highest illiteracy rate in Colombia. This school was started in 2002 with funding from USAID to answer a desperate need.

The school educates about 1,000 children between the ages of 14-18,
98% of whom are Afro-Colombian displaced persons or desplazados.*

As we clear the top of the ridge, several large cinder block buildings can be seen scattered across a sun drenched, hilly campus connected by covered concrete pathways. The buildings are designed with open fretwork walls to take advantage of any breeze.

Groups of children are milling about, while others can be seen in their classrooms. As we climb out of the van, curious children and young adults surround us. They smile, but are shy and maintain a polite distance.

Rigoberto greets them in Spanish saying a magic word—CyberBridges. A young woman launches into a welcome speech delivered in English with great pride. She then asks us to follow her on a tour of the CyberBridges classroom.

We cross the campus, now buzzing with the news of visiting strangers. I hear voices exclaiming ¿de dónde son?”. They wonder from where we have come.

Our guide leads us across the campus to a building with locked classrooms. We peer inside and see a dismaying sight—computers piled on top of each other, some gutted, hard-drives, fans and logic boards hanging by loose wires. Is this the CyberBridges classroom?

As if reading my mind, our tour-guide explains, “This is the computer repair workshop, students take classes here on how to fix PCs, next we’ll see the CyberBridges classroom”.

She beams as the door is unlocked, students file in, computers whir to life, and monitors flicker. These kids, from a town nestled in the South America jungle, have made a jump into the 21st century; this looks like a modern classroom. They are surfing the web, making contact with a group of students in New Haven, Connecticut. The program is in partnership with the diocese of Hartford, and is part of an effort to connect youth from very different cultures.

The value here is the connection and understanding this instant communication brings. Pictures are exchanged, e-mails answered, discussions begun and completed across thousands of miles and a continent away.

How do the students feel about this program? “It’s special because only a select group is chosen; we have to work hard to get into this program” says one young girl, “Plus, the people we meet online are becoming our friends.”

As we are leaving, the principal of the school introduces himself and tells us the program has meant a great deal to the students. He is proud the school can offer CyberBridges in its curriculum. “The students in this program are leaders in our school,” he says as he shakes our hands.

I manage to say, “gracias, con mucho gusto, adiós”, (thanks, with much pleasure, goodbye) not anywhere near the words I am thinking or feeling.

We walk to the van and are accompanied by a large group of good-natured kids. They willingly go along with some requests for final photos and videotape shots, they shout over and over again in English, “We love CyberBridges!”

*Desplazados is Spanish for displaced persons, refugees of armed conflicts involving left-wing guerillas, right-wing paramilitaries, drug cartels and the state that have wracked Colombia for the past 40 years.



© Copyright 2009 Guy Arceneaux All rights reserved

Friday, January 9, 2009

Second post for my first day in Quibdo



Human rights training is another important step in helping the displaced. Some do not have an interest in returning they want to make a new start. But for many that is the center of their lives rejoining their community on the land to which they feel tied.

For these people, Padre Albeiro answered that a variety of strategies are used, educating communities to strengthen their knowledge of human rights, and work to empower women and young people.

I was curious to know what these people were walking into when they were able to return to their former home regions. Padre explained that a commission looks at the region before a group returns. The community itself makes the decision to return and it’s not a matter of a single family returning but a community.

The goal is to have any instance of return follow three conditions:
  • it should be a voluntary decision,
  • the living conditions should be dignified and
  • there must be security.

These are conditions set forth in a much quoted Colombian Law #387 (1997).This was a law passed after much pressure from the Pastoral Social. Unfortunately, Padre Albeiro said that he didn’t think there had been one instance of a community returning home in keeping with these principles.

We were told that Colombia was a country where many laws were passed in defense of the rights of citizens but few are enforced. For instance, there is Law 70, passed in 1993 which gives special status to lands in Choco designated for Afro-Colombians and indigenous peoples. It assures that certain parcels of land are protected.

In other parts of Colombia where extensive displacement has occurred, the land cleared of its inhabitants is now held by the well-connected, powerful and rich. Choco has land rich in gold, copper, silver and coal and the companies interested in access to these resources now must negotiate with the communities under the stipulations of this law.

The fact of the matter is, he told us, if you overlay a map of the areas of conflict with a map of natural riches ripe for development, you would find they are in identical locations and that really this really shouldn’t surprise us.

The Church has been able to work with armed groups to negotiate the release of hostages, they are well respected and are able to break through stalemates and negotiate. Pastoral Social is one of the dioceses’ partners but it is all viewed as the work of the Church.

The dilemma of the desplazados is not simple, even when they can return to their land. They face the defense of their land against a variety of outsiders, multi-national corporations, paramilitary groups and guerilla groups—the same entities that forced them out to begin with. Ironically, employment options are often limited to these same groups.

A Full Agenda is Planned Tomorrow, My Spanish is Faltering

We have a busy day tomorrow and true to any CRS visit, it will start early and go on at breakneck speed until evening. We thank everyone for their time, and I am thankful that I can return to the hotel before my grasp of the Spanish language leaves me totally. Instead of saying “when I return” in Spanish I used the word revueltos. One orders eggs scrambled—huevos revueltos, so I said something the equivalent of I would see them scrambled.

“Buenos noches,” I said, as we left the air-conditioned room and entered the dense humidity of a June night in Quidbo. The town buzzed with the sound of motor bikes and motorcycle cab vehicles that zoom people everywhere around town.

Dinner Back at the Hotel

We walk back to the hotel and settle in for the night after a bit of dinner in the dining room. Fried fish and macaroni and cheese, like my family in Florida might fix but served with fried plantains and a tall glass of fresh orange juice “sin hielo” (without ice). Matthew Bristow, our Brit Spanish translator, offers his Amazon sauce to spice up my food, it’s bright yellow and hotter and tangier than any hot sauce I’ve ever used.

Matthew is a translator journalist who is an expert on narco-political topics, giving us insight into much that we hear, its roots and origins. ahe has an easy rapport with everyone we meet and is a font of information about what is advisable during our day to day routine.

The hotel is filled with a mix of guests, I idly try to figure out each group’s relationship and why they might be in a town like Quibdo. There are fellows dressed in polos, khakis and work boots who might be engineers, they speak English, without an accent and seamlessly switch to Spanish when the need arises.

Then there is a family, with their children. The kids are rambunctiously running around the tiled dining room. They’d rather be outside, but the street is very busy. It’s getting dark and a steady stream of armed men visiting the police barracks across the alley would give any parent pause for thought.

Quiet and a Chance to Write up My Notes

I retire to my room, hoping that the air-conditioner might provide a cool sanctuary from the thick muggy air. I know that we have a full day tomorrow so I am trying to unwind, I need to rest, but my thoughts are racing. The political atmosphere in Colombia is electric and I am unsettled by the narrative details detailed for us earlier this evening. It is astounding, the epic proportion of displacement in Soache, Quibdo, and across Colombia.

The politics of greed and disregard of human is played out as the powerful exploit Colombia’s natural riches. The people are merely pawns, their rights, while often acknowledged in grandly worded legislation, are casually ignored. Sleep won’t come easily tonight, I am angry and feel powerless.

Tomorrow we meet again at the Bishop’s Residence with more partners of CRS and then will set off for a day of visiting programs, all very different but all aimed at the huge problem of desplazado resettlement and housing.



© Copyright 2009 Guy Arceneaux All rights reserved