Going springing...to Paipa, here. Where there are springs with hot thermal water. They are regimented. A friend called them the Communist hot springs - 30 minutes in, and they toss you out like yesterday's spaghetti, into the freezing cold water.

Today Uribe was re-elected. Carlos Gaviria quoted Borges in his concession speech: "La derrota tiene una dignidad que la ruidosa victoria no merece" = Defeat has a dignity that noisy victory does not deserve. My friends were sad. I consoled them with tales of our own re-elected failure. Don't think it helped much.


This morning Aimee and I climbed Monserrate. It rained. We saw: barefoot pilgrims, pregnant teenagers, young mothers with babes in arms, toddlers, elderly couples with canes, 30-somethings with canes, a priest, one nun, soldiers guarding...something (probably us), and countless dogs scavenging for lunch. Oh, and donuts, lots of crunchy donuts hanging in clear plastic by the dozen.



Friday we saw X-Men. Eli asked me why all the X-Men were Americans. Are there not as many mutants in the immigrant population? Is mutation a U.S. thing? I did not laugh. After all, the movie was loud, and loud is often right. Afterwards friends came over to celebrate ley seca with beer. Not sure if this was ironic in the Alanis Morrisette sense or not. How could I not love it here?

But I'm ready to be home, for the summer at least. I miss: wild grass, my family including pets, beasts, and one chilango, baseball (baseball!), the general lack of soldiers on street corners, and summer nights in the South. Also gospel music, crunchy peanut butter, pecan trees, and fireflies. I don't miss the way your clothes stick to you ten seconds out of the air conditioning but I'm willing to live with it.

My new favorite word: jipijapa (Panama hat). It sounds so happy.

In today's week before elections protesting...

Actually, today's transportation strike probably had nothing to do with the elections, but it's this week's theme. Universities are closed, bus owner/operators are on strike, and to really top it all off...it's ley seca (dry law) this weekend. Makes re-election even harder to take.

Plus it tends to lead to people carting off copious amounts of beer, probably all out of proportion to what they would normally drink. This is why Prohibition was a bad idea - people hate the idea of scarcity.







All photos from ElTiempo.com

Election week

Graffiti over the entrance reads, "for a quality public education."

From ElTiempo.com 5/24/06

We're all starting to get a little tired of this. Yesterday was one of the worst demonstrations at La Nacional in some time -- three tanks, four hours, an untold number of canisters of tear gas and "papas," dozens of students not involved in the protest tear gassed (several of whom came to our apartment to recover), classes canceled, and university closed until after elections.

Short day

Beautiful piece, collection of voices: Leaving, and Longing for Home: West Virginia

Last night was an almost-allnighter, close enough at my age, but it's over! I'm happy to say that after this afternoon I will never have to set foot on that campus again. Tomorrow I'm officially no longer a student at los andes. My roommate says attending a semester there does carry the benefit of giving my snide remarks about the place heft, credibility. It's like dropping out of Emory for Georgia State, I think. Emory might be a great school in some respects, but most everyone I know who attended (all scholarship kids) came away talking funny and with either a slight sense of inferiority or a chip on their shoulders from fighting the inferiority complex. Correct me if I'm wrong!

The interview this morning with Accion Ciudadana Colombia went very well - they have a number of projects that are right up my alley, and the people I spoke with answered most of my questions before I even got around to asking them. I think the direction I'm headed in is to examine the local budgeting process, which according to these gentlemen and what I've read has been gutted in the most recent administration.

Unfortunately, when people do participate in processes that end up being completely un-democratic, as was described to me today, the sour taste the experience leaves tends to discourage them from taking part the next time around, unless there is a strong sense of community with other people who feel shut out of the process (see the Atlanta experience with the NW Corridor and GRTA, or with the congestion (I refuse to call it congestion mitigation) task force.)

Colombia Call-in Day

Please take a few minutes today to care about what our tax dollars (well, mostly yours at the moment...) are financing in Colombia.

from Peace Communities:

On Monday, May 22, call your congressional representative (House only) to ask that U.S. aid to Colombia support human rights, alternative development and the internally displaced. Call the congressional switchboard at 202.224.3121 to be connected to your representative's office. Ask to speak with the foreign policy aide. It is okay to leave a message if s/he is not available. Below is a sample script to help you with your call. Additional talking points are below. Also, if your church, school or organization has ties in Colombia, make sure to tell your representative what we're hearing directly from our partners on the ground - they are calling for greater U.S. social aid to Colombia, rather than a military focus.

Sample script:
"I am a constituent of Rep. _________ participating in Days of Prayer and Action for Colombia. I urge Representative ________ to vote in favor of amendments to the foreign aid bill that transfer funds from Colombian military aid to economic and social aid. The war in Colombia is still going on, and the country is still home to massive internal displacement, human rights abuses by all armed actors and the worst humanitarian crisis in our hemisphere. The 3 million internally displaced people in Colombia is exceeded in number only by Sudan. U.S. support for Colombia's military is only exacerbating the detrimental effect of the war on the civilian population. And recent coca growth statistics make a mockery of U.S. efforts in the War on Drugs in the Andes. Congress should approve measures to increase rural alternative development programs and help the humanitarian crisis in Colombia."

OR send an fax to your representative on this issue by visiting Sojourner's website at http://go.sojo.net/campaign/colombia_06.

In many people's opinion including my own, Plan Colombia is a royal you-know-what mess, and every day we continue to finance the Colombian military, under the guise of anti-(the new drug)terrorism, is a bad (and often dangerous) day for: Colombian workers, community leaders, union leaders, peace activists, students, mothers...you get the picture.

The military/paramilitary here work so closely together and at such a high human cost. We as US taxpayers need to speak up to say, not with our tax dollars. Isn't it about time we as a country finally learn the lesson that dumping bags of dollars in the lap of a foreign military in the midst of a civil war is a bad idea? It leads to horrific human rights abuses, paid for in part by you and by me.

Thanks to everyone who takes a minute to do this. It's so strange sometimes to be living a fairly ordinary life in a country trapped by half a century of violent conflict. And that's how it feels, trapped. Many things I would never accept at home become normalized here -- random searches nearing elections, tanks and riot soldiers to handle peaceful protestors carrying banners, the whiff of tear gas from the university drifting past my lunch spot, soldiers sitting in the park, watching, illegal armed groups' graffiti on grocery stores, meeting people who have been displaced, not once, but multiple times. People separated from their families, families torn apart by their involvement in the "conflict," which itself starts to sound like a euphemism for civil war.

Effects so pervasive, so inescapable, they become part of daily life. Self-censorship is the easiest and safest route, that and a vote for security, a vote that is a plea for ignorance, for normal life, something people are so desperate to retain. The elections are this coming weekend, and the city is tense. Two universities have already shut down to avoid protests. Yesterday we saw the most beautiful parade, for Gaviria, the Polo Democratico candidate everyone I know is supporting. Enormous wings painted like butterflies dancing on the wind, children with cat whiskers and moustaches painted on, teenagers hopping and jamming on stilts, and music music music everywhere.

from El Tiempo, 5/21/06

Gaviria filled the main plaza (more so than his opponent, reported El Tiempo) with his supporters, but he's polling around 27%. People are scared, and the security discourse has a powerful hold.

Still, walking home from the store at dusk last night, it was easy to get caught up in my roommate's little dream: what if he wins? Living here, you see what a change that would bring, what a whiff of hope and air in a stale and chastened place.

Additional talking points:

We believe that we should help our neighbor, Colombia, especially since our own demand for drugs increases the violence Colombians suffer. But to make sure we help Colombia and address our own problems at home, we ask that Congress:

1. Increase funding for internally displaced persons and victims of violence. Resources for internally displaced persons and alternative development programs are currently being cut in order to fund the paramilitary demobilization process. Assistance to victims of the conflict - including for programs that benefit internally displaced persons and Afro-Colombian and indigenous communities - should be increased at this moment, rather than decreased.

2. Focus on the social side of the equation. Support initiatives to cut military aid and increase social aid to Colombia. Increase support for alternative development programs, rural development and humanitarian aid for refugees and the displaced.

3. Don't give Colombia a blank check. Sign letters and support initiatives that urge respect for human rights and progress on breaking army ties to paramilitaries. Enforce the human rights conditions on U.S. assistance-thank you if you just signed the letter to Secretary Rice urging this! Put tough conditions on assistance for the paramilitary demobilization to ensure underlying structures are dismantled and abuses end.

4. Defend the rights of threatened civil society leaders. Support initiatives and letters that protect church workers, human rights defenders, union leaders and others under threat from all sides of the conflict.

5. End the aerial spraying program, and increase funding for alternative development programs. The aerial spraying program is not only an inhumane program-destroying food crops belonging to small farm families and polluting water sources-it is also an ineffective one. Despite the most massive spraying campaigns ever in 2004 and 2005, coca cultivation has risen instead of fallen. The Office of National Drug Control Policy (ONDCP) recently reported that coca cultivation in Colombia reached 144,000 hectares in 2005, a level not seen since 2002. Fumigation forces coca farmers to plant in new areas but does little to actually reduce production. Only through alternative development in the Andes, coupled with demand-reduction through drug prevention and treatment programs at home, can we reduce the flow of drugs.
To read more on this issue visit the Adam Isacson's blog, of the Center for International Policy at www.ciponline.org/colombia/blog/archives/000243.htm.

6. Increase funding for drug treatment programs here at home. If we do not face our own problem of drug abuse, we will be chasing production back and forth across the region for decades to come. The FY07 request for federal drug control programs is more weighted than ever towards supply reduction rather than demand reduction, and includes a 19 percent cut in prevention programs.

UNAL Protests

So that's what tear gas tastes like...I crossed the bridge right as the soldiers in riot gear were ascending the stairs on the other side. Gee, I'm glad I didn't decide to go talk to the chanting students. It all seemed so innocent. Then the students, about 15 of them, carrying banners and shouting, "Defend the people," stepped out into the street, blocking traffic.

That was too much for the waiting Esmad (Escuadrón Militar Antidisturbios Esmad) forces, who immediately started gassing the university entrance. Across the 26, a crowd gathered of students unable to get to class, shop workers, retired people, to watch the scene unfold. A news crew from Caracol Radio set up, just another day on the job. Everything was eerily relaxed. The students set up camp just inside the university, using the carts of those unfortunate vendors who didn't catch on fast enough as blockades. Some protestors threw what looked like rocks, although it could have been candy bars (I wasn't getting too close). The special forces fired more tear gas.

After about the fourth tear gas canister, Flash! Bang! A "papa" (exploding potato) was tossed back at the soldiers. I asked an employee of "El Sabor de la Abuela" what it was, why they were protesting, etc. "It's the president," he said. "This is a public university, see, and he wants to privatize it. And a boy was killed a month or so ago, that's why."

To me the shocking thing is not that youth protest, or that authorities respond with some show of force. It's the degree of force, the rapidity with which it is employed, the complete intolerance of protest, that amazes and saddens me. The students (or whoever they are) don't just start throwing explosives, they start out chanting, shutting down roads occasionally, marching and carrying signs. But the expectation is that there will be some degree of violence. I just hope no one gets hurt this time.

[Update: the students were apparently protesting to show their support for indigenous groups demonstrating in Cauca. These protests against land reform, coca eradication, the TLC, and reelection have shut down the Panamerican highway since Tuesday. Two marchers have been killed, and possibly as many as 70 wounded. In Colombia, I learned today, it is illegal to block roads. That's why Esmad stepped in so quickly after the students blocked 26. Article in Indymedia.]

Modern and post-modern news from Colombia in the NYT

1. Abortion legalized in some cases:

In a 5-to-3 decision handed down late Wednesday, the Constitutional Court overturned Colombia's complete ban on abortion and ruled that the procedure would be permitted when the life of a mother was in danger or the fetus was expected to die or in cases of rape or incest. Women's rights organizations in places as varied as Argentina and New York hailed the ruling.

By way of response, the Catholic church in Colombia threatened to excommunicate the judges who ruled in favor of the suit to decriminalize abortions on this limited basis. One brave priest from Cordoba, Tomas Seba Rodri­guez, spoke out against the church's position, commenting that judges are appointed by the state, not the church (which you might think obvious, but it's not) and therefore must be guided by the state's human rights laws, not the church's position. He explained, "hay que tener un poquito de sensibilidad y ponerse en el caso de una mujer que ha sido violada" (you have to have a little bit of sensitivity and put yourself in the place of a woman who has been raped).

Two days later, he retracted his statement. Draw your own conclusions.

2. Leaving the wild, and rather liking the change.

The Nukak have no concept of money, of property, of the role of government, or even of the existence of a country called Colombia. They ask whether the planes that fly overhead are moving on some sort of invisible road.

When asked if the Nukak were concerned about the future, Belisario, the only one in the group who had been to the outside world before and spoke Spanish, seemed perplexed, less by the word than by the concept. "The future," he said, "what's that?"

Are they sad? "No!" cried a Nukak named Pia-pe, to howls of laughter. In fact, the Nukak said they could not be happier. Used to long marches in search of food, they are amazed that strangers would bring them sustenance for free. What do they like most? "Pots, pants, shoes, caps," said Mau-ro, a young man who went to a shelter to speak to two visitors. Ma-be added, "Rice, sugar, oil, flour." Others said they loved skillets.

I'm so tired of stories written like this. Wide-eyed, innocent natives meet modern world. Where has Juan Forero been for the last decade or so? You can almost see him patting his sources on the head with a pitying smile. For a more insightful view into what contact between the west and peoples living on its margins looks like, see La Vida Silvestre.

As seen from a city bus, and JFK's Alliance for Progress

From the bus (my favorite series):

A small child, no more than six, probably five years old, walking down a busy commercial street. With an even smaller monkey on his back.

"Solo con rosas podemos" (We only can with roses) -- written one word per white fabric panel and hung from the popular cemetery (popular in the Spanish sense of -not elite-) I don't know what this means, but the link above has a series of photographs, and it feels profound even without knowing the precise meaning, at least to me.

Rappers on the bus (good actually) -- with the message: wouldn't you rather us be on your bus, singing and rapping, than robbing and hurting people on the streets? (I would, for the record.)

The conference was kind of awful, and I'm not the only one who thought so. My friend Diana went too, in the afternoon, arriving past the point where I could take no more, to put things as melodramatically as possible.

Sometimes it feels like words are rocks people hurl without regard to their size or fitness, just to see how far they'll go, or whether they'll skip.

Sometimes a photograph can stop the barrage of words with little meaning. Ciudad Kennedy: Memoria y Realidad. (The four year olds' birthday party a few months back was in Kennedy.)

My favorite part of this exhibit is "Johnes y Jackelines," a series of school photographs of children named John and Jackeline. The Kennedys apparently visited Colombia in 1961 to promote the Alliance for Progress ("We, the American Republics, hereby proclaim our decision to unite in a common effort to bring our people accelerated economic progress and broader social justice within the framework of personal dignity and individual liberty.")

Perhaps as a result, half the photos are of people posing with JFK and Jackie cutouts. How far we've fallen in the world's regard.

Of bikes, buses, and becas

Well, I was completely wrong about the event tonight. No ambassador, just as well. Instead, the cultural affairs officer - such a sweet lady. Definitely did not feel the need to harangue her in a corner about the National Guard being deployed to patrol the borders. Although there were several dozen other embassy workers, so I guess we could have gotten in our futile political arguments, if we hadn't been there for the free food in the first place.

Naturally the first person I saw when the elevator doors opened (if you're really swank in Bogota you have your own elevator) was my public transportation professor. I've been semi-avoiding him ever since I stopped going to that class after it got way too technical for me. I can only read so many travel demand manuals. But he was terribly kind, and I'd been meaning to write him a nice email or something, just wish I'd gotten around to actually taking that initiative - this just made it look like I'd been avoiding him.

Interestingly, it seems there is a parallel group of Colombian students with becas (scholarships, but I like calling them Beccas) from the state department. There are 12 of them, they all know each other and study at La Nacional, and I had run into one of them a few times before at campus events. The scholarship is for Afro-Colombians to study English before applying for a Fulbright to study in the states. It's called the Martin Luther King scholarship -- the embassy folks are not real subtle. It seems to be a good program though, if that's your goal.

We all agreed that if either group had a party, the other set had to be invited. And one of the girls told me about some Sunday aerobics in the park thing, and invited me for this weekend. Hope we end up going - today was not the best day for follow-through. I went to the girls' school, sat for 45 minutes, only to be told, hmmm, I don't think we're having a workshop today. It's el Dia del Maestro! (Day of the Teacher) Plus I have this meeting, see...I think it's time for me to look for another volunteer opportunity, probably through the Participandes network, which seems slightly more volunteer oriented than your average public school probably has time to be.

Ah well. I did spend lots of time moving myself around today, giving me a better understanding of what public transportation is like for people who don't live within walking distance of their daily activities. TransMilenio is really going through some growing pains -- apparently they ordered buses for the added routes too late and only half have been built. So they're stretched extremely thin, plus people who still aren't served by TM have had their buseta routes all twisted up in order to avoid the TM stubs, meaning longer commutes.

I've heard lots of talk about bikes today - in Bolivia, and now in Chicago, where they are launching Sunday Parkways, based on Bogota's Sunday Ciclovias!

Chicagoland Bicycle Federation —Sunday Parkways (IL)
For the past several months, Chicagoland Bicycle Federation has been working to build support for something we call Sunday Parkways. Borrowed from programs in Latin America, the idea of Sunday Parkways is to return the avenues to the community for a few hours every Sunday, when a network of streets is closed to traffic - becoming completely car-free.

Our initial proposal is 7 miles long. If successful, the hope is to expand the route over the next two years to 30 miles and later 60 miles, along routes that extend north to south and east to west, across Chicago. The expanded route will link city amenities, such as museums, cultural centers, diverse neighborhoods, artistic venues, recreation areas, parks, sports facilities and theLakefrontt Trail. Sunday Parkways promotes a healthier, more active life in and around the city with the participation of everyone, regardless of social status, age or physical ability. People can participate as an individual, as a family or as a group.

In Bogota, Colombia, where this program originated, physical activity stations - such as calisthenics, yoga and dance aerobics - are scattered along the route. There are other lifestyle-related activities such as health screenings and information stations on nutrition and well-being. The avenues are filled with thousands of walkers, runners, skaters, bikers and joggerss. Bogota'’s Ciclovi­a Dominical has enjoyed great success since its inception in 1980. Nowadays, the trail covers 75 miles, and 500,000 participants turn up every Sunday. An identical Sunday program in Guadalajara, Mexico also has grown significantly.

I can't wait for this idea to catch on in Atlanta - it's really quite magical. Families, singles with dogs, older folks, the spandex crowd, everyone comes out for Ciclovia, and I'd be shocked if it weren't creating some terrific public health benefits.

Family ramblings

William's graduation 2005

Today is Mother's Day, and I miss mine. Mom, hope you had a terrific day. The older I get, the more I realize that parenting is a long-distance race that never ends, but if it did the t-shirt would say "I raised four kids and all I got was this immense joy, endless laughter, terrifying worry and plenty of tears." Thanks, Mom - you and Dad made it seem so easy when we were being our most difficult.

William's graduation 2005
Julia's graduation 2003

As American childhood elongates and grown-up children move back home and postpone starting families of their own, it must be getting harder and harder to let go. In Latin America, where the norm is for children to live at home until they marry, the question asked on meeting someone is "Do you live alone or accompanied?" Accompanied means with your parents. Kind of nice in some ways - there's no stigma attached, quite the contrary. It's still considered a little odd to live away from your family, especially if they are in the same city. An older woman I met early on here told me, with evident pride, "I was one of the first women I knew to live alone." She faced not insignificant social disapproval back then, about 15 years ago -- it was seen as suspiciously open in a world kept locked up tight by family ties.

Minus that aspect, I've often thought my family fits in more closely with the Latin model than the North American one - what with all the uncles, grandmothers, and sundry students always living in one basement bedroom or another, we were considered slightly strange in our leafy suburban neighborhood.

Growing up the oldest in a relatively large family where both parents worked, I did more than my share of babysitting, cooking, and cleaning (or at least that's how I remember it). My younger brothers used to call me "mom" sometimes, whether by mistake or design it's hard to say. At one point the accepted use was shorthand for "stop being so damn bossy."

----------

We're finally are getting decent weather here -- it's been warm and sunny since Friday. Today I ran on Ciclovia, had a delicious lunch at Trish's house where she was welcoming a visiting friend, and rearranged my room. A nice slow, shabby Sunday.

Friday we celebrated Sarah's going away at Andres Carne de Res in Chia -- a trip there implies contracting a bus, drinking beforehand because of the exhorbitant prices inside, and too many colors and people to count. It was both overwhelming and a blast! Sarah is going to work at Denali National Park in Alaska for the summer -- it's exactly the kind of work she seems perfectly suited for.

Afterwards I stayed at Tom/Porter's place in the north -- I'm not crazy about taking taxis on my own late at night, although buses I feel fine taking as late as they run. The next morning we woke up late and had a philosophical breakfast -- funny how often those happen after a late night dancing. We watched a cat in the high rise across the street inch towards the sun as it strolled along the ledge, ate arepas and talked the talk. I managed to take three buses on my way home, but the day was delicious and I didn't much mind.

Tomorrow is basketball and a workshop at the girls' school, then some kind of reception at the embassy. Those are generally interesting -- 10 lefty loonies (myself included) and Bush's ambassador to Colombia.

See?

Most boring blog in the universe

My brother's slowpitch softball team

Where will you send me?

Yesterday at a conference on the urban repercussions of migrations, the mayor of Medellin said something I've heard talked around before, but never put so succinctly: "Hemos aprendido a vivir con la violencia -- eso nos permite vivir, pero tambien perpetua la violencia." (We have learned to live with the violence -- this permits us to live, but it also perpetuates the violence." -- Sergio Fajardo Valderrama.

The contrast between the effects of migration patterns on Barcelona and Colombian cities was striking. Joan Cloas, Barcelona's mayor, spoke of the jobs immigrants came to fill, Spain's low low birthrate, and economic growth. In short, good times. For Lucho (Bogota mayor Luis Eduardo Garzon) and Fajardo, however, the news was mostly grim. Millions of new city dwellers over the course of a few short years, the near impossility of predicting future displacements to the cities, the lack of services, ongoing violence in the informal communities where those displaced by the conflict settle, etc etc etc. But Lucho was, in the words of a friend, "cantankerously hopeful."

---------------

Two intiatives connecting Colombians "in the exterior" with Colombians at home:

• Conexion Colombia
• Sos Paisa (Medellin)

NYT series about asylum seekers:

COURTS CRITICIZE JUDGES' HANDLING OF ASYLUM CASES
By ADAM LIPTAK (NYT)
Published: December 26, 2005

Federal appeals court judges around the nation have repeatedly excoriated immigration judges this year for what they call a pattern of biased and incoherent decisions in asylum cases.

In one decision last month, Richard A. Posner, a prominent and relatively conservative federal appeals court judge in Chicago, concluded that ''the adjudication of these cases at the administrative level has fallen below the minimum standards of legal justice.''

Similarly, the federal appeals court in Philadelphia said in September that it had ''time and time again'' been forced to rebuke immigration judges for their ''intemperate and humiliating remarks.'' Citing cases from around the country, the court wrote of ''a disturbing pattern'' of misconduct in immigration rulings that sent people back to countries where they had said they would face persecution.

And from squattercity a post about displaced people living in Bogota occupying homes.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005 Last week, 300 families made homeless by the long-running war in Colombia took over 163 partially-built houses in Western Bogota, according to this short dispatch on americas.org. The homes have been unfinished and unoccupied for six years. Nonetheless, the police have surrounded the community and reportedly prevented a water truck from entering and blocked neighbors from bringing food to the squatters.

Not for tourists

God, I miss home some days. Today was not one of them, but looking over the Not for Tourists: Atlanta map of the West End, and listening to Shawn Colvin, it's about to turn into one.

That and the Delta itinerary sitting in my inbox, taunting me with its cool lines and long waits (one month and counting, give or take a week...) - I can almost taste the sweet tea, feel the nearly indescribable chill through the summer sweat that is a Georgia night in July, sense the buoyancy in my step as I walk down those city streets again, the only fool on a Friday night on Central Ave after the last class of the week. Ah, nostalgia. It's always hit me hard, even as a kid - driving to Kentucky in the middle of the night (our preferred travel hour) the dull blue gleam on the grass as the headlights swung past would settle into my skin and not let me go.

But Colombia, Colombia is nice. [I use that word a lot, I've noticed. Nice. Something Colombia is definitely not, no matter what other wonderful words could be used to describe it. It's not nice. Nice is Grandma's cooking, a little bland maybe but nice, or my neighbor's haircut. Not Colombia. Colombia is surprising, confusing, and alive.]

Today I went from my bedroom to the kitchen to the park to the living room, and then back to my bedroom. I got lots of reading done, and after a Monday spent getting stuck in downpours on my way to meet with people, waiting to give a workshop at the girls' school that never happened, shopping on the city's most hectic street for running shoes, and counting comments (see yesterday's post), I was ready for a quiet day of reading and running.

My jog at Simon Bolivar turned into a bit of a swamp march, as the lake had flooded the path in more than one spot. It's been raining every day here, sometimes all day. And it's cold, in a city where no one has any heat. I cook on the stove a lot, and I find myself rubbing my hands over the soup pot. When I read that Bogota's climate was "perpetual spring," I thought they meant ATLANTA spring. I have since discovered my Atlanta bias led me astray - it's more like a Boston spring. If you're coming to visit, I don't recommend the rainy season - although the book by the same title, about Haiti, is one of my all-time favorites.

This week I started working on interviews for a podcast: Pensativa en Colombia. I'm asking all the Fulbright recipients a question I've been asked a million times, "Why Colombia?" So far I've interviewed (if you can call all the giggling I'm going to have to cut from the tape an interview) my roommate, Ellie, and a Fulbright-Hays scholar on journalism, June (less giggling on that one - I learned when to turn the tape off). June, through a series of coincidences, worked as a journalist in Colombia for years, and has endless and fascinating stories to tell. I was surprised by how much I learned from Ellie's interview, not because I thought she didn't know anything, but since we live together I thought I knew pretty much what she was working on.

I love being surprised by people. The other day I got a mini-lecture from the butcher downstairs on an isolated community on the northern coast of Colombia. We have such an erudite butcher! He's one of those community connectors good places tend to have. Speaking of lectures, tomorrow morning I'm going to a conference on the urban repercussions of migration at my favorite library, Virgilio Barco. The mayor is supposed to be on the first panel.

I'm doing all this research about participatory budgeting, decentralization, public participation, but what I really want to do is get to interview the mayors, and think about how personality influences that sticky word political scientists love to throw around: governance.

Actually, I have to admit I love the reading I've been doing lately. I think I've finally found the (still rather too large) niche I want to explore: why do people participate in public affairs? How do demographics, institutional structure, and social issues influence who takes part? And once I recognized that I was having difficulties reading Spanish, the block just disappeared. My wall of knowledge is growing once again after a few slow weeks.















Also tomorrow I'm interviewing my first NGO, Habla/Scribe (article written by the organization's founder on a literacy campaign that put words in the hands of people, literally, here) Wish me luck!

Today I saw:

• Soldiers on street corners staring glumly at the new TransMilenio maps, trying to help the lost, of whom there were many.
  

• At the 0 street headed from south to north, a huge grey cloud falling over the northwest side of the city. Behind me, the sky was blue. Before us, cold, rain, the usual. It struck me that the north/south distinction in the city is so strong that even the weather patterns respect it. And it's only fair that people not living on the ritzy end should have better weather.
  

Today I counted:

• 9 catcalls. No, I'm not really that vain, it was an experiment. Last night I was asked whether I get that often here, and I said no almost without thinking, because my perception is, hey, women are powerful here. Then I decided to count to see whether it was true or not. I've been noticing lately that my perceptions are often clouded (ironically I suppose) by a relentless desire to see the positive in everything. So I counted, and I was wrong, it happens all the time here, I just don't usually notice because because it's so unobtrusive. Hey doll was the most popular choice today. This, too, strikes me as ironic, since I am generally one of the largest women within sight at any given moment. Hey blondie was a close second...I'm also not a blond.
  

• 45 soldiers...from a window during just 5 minutes of my bus ride tonight. And I really could only see my side of the street. I can't wait til the elections are over. Most of the soldiers are barely 18, and can be seen chatting with their girlfriends, or buying empanadas, or looking somehow both bored and confused. I'm telling you, there is no place safer in Colombia right now than every single street corner between here and the president's house. If you're going to commit a crime here, you should do it in the middle of the block, cause those corners, they are really well-guarded.

Thirst

Los que aqui llegais sabed
que en lo profundo sorbi
y a la luz del sol sali
para calmar vuestra sed

Those who arrive here know
that in the profundity I flowed
and in the light of the sun I left
to calm your thirst

(Please excuse the translation and correct me if you have a better understanding of archaic Spanish)

all who wander are not lost

Eidetic memory in Every Angel Is Terrifying by Nia Stephens.

The Mirror Project by Robert Arevalo.

Colombia, 1971
Growing up without a TV, I go to my friends' houses to watch soccer games, Tarzan, and Bonanza. On Sunday I go with my sisters to my aunt's house to watch Orson Welles in black and white at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Often I look at the reflection of the TV in a window and wish that I can take it back to my own house. My classmates discuss the episode from the previous night's Bonanza. In the background, I listen carefully and visualize each scene. Later, I recite the details of the episode as if I had watched it myself.

Colombia, 1990
On the airplane, returning to Colombia to visit my mother and sisters, I put my camera up against the window of the plane and videotape the landing. One afternoon, I give a quick workshop to my nine nephews and nieces, then send them away for two hours to videotape on their own. When they return, the whole family sits down in front of the TV to watch. They have recorded themselves playing and interviewing each other. They tell jokes and dance, and we are all amazed and engrossed by it. The power of video is extraordinarily clear: simultaneously capturing and inspiring reflection upon our own lives. Seeing themselves on the television affirms the pride and uniqueness of the family. We analyze, laugh and point out what needs to be improved, all the time exploring and contributing to one another's lives. I understand the importance of what I have been instinctively doing. I want to share with others what I have discovered, and at the same time further my own consciousness.

Atlanta, GA 2003
In the last few years, I have realized that in order to be a more effective educator and documentary filmmaker, I need to further develop my pedagogical, artistic and technical abilities. Changing the world begins with changing one's self: ideals must be integrated with and renewed by a positive engagement with daily life. This is why I felt compelled to further develop my methodology of self-reflection and social analysis through media work by exposing myself to the courses, faculty, students, and experiences at Georgia State University.

So that's why Leyva = Paz (see earlier post):

A recently completed study by scientists at the Oregon Research Institute (ORI) in Eugene confirmed earlier findings from a pilot study that walking on a cobblestone mat surface resulted in significant reductions in blood pressure and improvements in balance and physical performance among adults 60 and over.

Cascade Springs Nature Preserve

The 1979 grant of $490,000 helped to acquire this 115 acre nature preserve located in the Atlanta area. A subsequent grant assisted in the development of trails and support facilities. The site is characterized by steep slopes, two creeks and hard-woods. Also significant is the result of a cultural survey that reflects early domestic and civil war sites on the property.

Apocryphal explanations (Green grow the rushes, oh!), folk etymology (Greens, Go!), and gringos in Brasil:

The etymology of "gringo" is complicated, but it seems that Brazilians use the word in something approximating its original sense. Throughout the Americas, there has sprung up a number of complicated, silly, or downright apocryphal stories of how the word came tobe.

The least ridiculous of these can be found in Sobrados e Mocambos, a classic work of the Brazilian social sciences, whose author Gilberto Freyre favored the theory that "gringo" was originally a label for wandering gypsy slave traders. With the opening of the ports and the subsequent appearance of foreigners - principally British - among the rural mascates, the term naturally transferred itself to foreigners in general.

Most of the other theories I've heard, though repeatedly proffered by earnest students and colleagues, are on the level of "urban legends": "just so" stories that are quite easily unraveled with the slightest amount of effort. Chief among these is the old saw that "gringo" means "green go". Basically, the story goes that brave native civilians (either Vietnamese or Mexican, depending on which version of the story is told) taunted invading American troops with cries of "Green go [home]!" The story is obviously apocryphal for two reasons: 1) "gringo" was being used before the U.S. invaded Mexico (and long before they invaded Vietnam); and 2) U.S. Army uniform colors at the time of both invasions of Mexico were not green but blue, gray, or khaki. There are other, equally erroneous stories of the word's origins - that it comes from English sailors (or American cavalrymen) singing Robert Burns "Green grow the rushes", or that it refers to "greenbacks.

Apparently in use throughout Ibero-America by the beginning of the 19th century, the true etymological roots of "gringo" may perhaps be found in the Spanish "griego", or Greek. All that can be said, then, is that the term probably originally applied to funny-looking itinerant speakers of an exceptionally unintelligible language. "Gringo" is thus used today in Brazil in a manner remarkably similar to the way it was used two centuries ago in the Iberian Peninsula. Though it's not meant as an open insult it certainly is not a compliment. It is a euphemism for "funny speaking/looking/acting outsider"; a way of signifying that which is not Brazilian and which has little hope of ever being so. In fact, the term comes awfully close to the original Greek barbaros, a foreign babbler.

I'm almost done babbling for today. Maybe I'll stay in bed. On a completely unrelated topic:

In Colombia, aguardiente is an anise-flavored liquor derived from sugar cane, popular in the Andean region. Departments hold the rights to produce it, but aguardiente produced in one region can be sold in another. By adding different amounts of aniseed, different flavors are obtained, leading to extensive marketing and fierce competition between brands. Aguardiente has a 29% alcohol content. Popular brands include (department):

• Antioqueño (Antioquia)
• Líder (Boyacá)
• Cristal (Caldas)
• Nectar (Cundinamarca)
• Doble Anís (Huila)
• Llanero (Meta)
• Nariño (before: Galeras)(Nariño)
• Quindiano (Quindío)
• Superior (Santander)
• Tapa Roja (Tolima)
• Blanco (Valle del Cauca)

rare birds

Photo taken by JRW, Bogota 2006, at Parque Simon Bolivar

I'm not sure why this story appealed to me so strongly. Maybe it's because my best friend's dad is a birder, and so for me there's something slightly dorky and terribly sweet about the hobby, or maybe it's because I saw a blue heron on a class trip to Jekyll Island as a kid, or maybe it was the crane Josh and I happened upon in the nature preserve.

The fantastic story of the bird's rediscovery begins with the first confirmed sighting. Tim Gallagher, editor of Living Bird magazine, published by Cornell University's ornithology lab, was writing a book, "The Grail Bird," a history of the search for the ivory-bill. He intended to interview every living person who had seen one. It turns out that there's a whole subcategory of bird aficionados known as ghost-bird chasers, who look for birds presumed to be extinct. Gallagher himself was one, and over his years of searching, he met Bobby Harrison, a photography professor at Oakwood College in Alabama, who was also in this game.

The two men were made for the Chautauqua circuit, which they're now in fact on, sometimes together, sometimes solo, telling the tale of their sighting. Their appearance before an awestruck audience capped the Brinkley celebration. Gallagher is a tall 55-year-old with white hair and a pleasantly restrained Yankee demeanor who introduced himself in Arkansas by confessing amiably that he'd always thought the South was weird and that he considered Harrison his "interpreter and guide." Harrison, a fun guy with a head like a mortar shell, had his own schtick, like saying that he didn't know "damn Yankee" was two words until he was 20 years old. The audience laughed wildly at their tale, which was, like the best sightings, a great adventure story full of snakes, mayhem, missteps, mud, bugs and a bird.

Ah, now I know what it was. A Good Story.

Speaking of which, if you speak Spanish, ask me sometime about my Friday class experience. It's much funnier in Spanish. It boils down to a drunken student stumbling into the seat next to mine, asking me tons of questions, disagreeing with my answers (which were mostly one-word to discourage further discussion), and telling me how it really is. Questions like, "Where are you from?" ("Georgia." "No, you're not from Georgia. You're from Scandanavia.) "What's your name?" (Silence on my part. "I know, it's Juliet. No, Ingrid.") And, "Give me your phone number," which was really more of a demand than a question (Me: "I don't have a telephone." He: turns to the guy on his right, says, "Give me your phone number.") At this point the people around us, who had up to that point been trying to ignore his ramblings as well, started to crack up.

Next question: "Oye, is the professor Jewish?" Me: "Not sure, and I don't care." His hand shot up in the air. Turns out he didn't have much of a question for the professor (former mayor Paul Bromberg) either: "Um, profe, as a Jew and as a grand representative of your race, don't you think Colombia has always been a world leader in culture? I mean, we had the first train, made in Medellin, and [something about airplanes landing in Colombia]..." Bromberg almost choked on his laughter and had to give it a good thirty seconds before he could even attempt a response. I knew the local Asperger's sufferers would find me eventually.

Urban threads

Buford Highway to get safety upgrade (FINALLY):

A coalition including state government and Hispanic community advocates is working to make Buford Highway less deadly for pedestrians. At least $15 million in construction is planned to improve the commercial corridor known for immigrants and their shops, the coalition announced Thursday at a news conference.

The highway needs a sidewalk, traffic lights and a median, said Michael Orta, program manager of PEDS, a nonprofit group that advocates for pedestrians and is leading the safety effort. A bike lane is also on the wish list. And safety advocates said a consolidation of strip shopping center driveways would help. The state Department of Transportation will hold a series of public hearings this summer before installing infrastructure changes. The Buford Highway safety coalition included the Governor's Office for Highway Safety, the Latin American Association, DeKalb County Commissioner Kathie Gannon, Royal Bus Lines owner Carlos Ochoa, MARTA and PEDS. The targeted area is five-miles from Lenox Road in Atlanta to Shallowford Terrace in Chamblee. The project may take five years to complete.

From 1996 to 2005, 34 people were killed and 305 injured from car crashes on the strip, said Bob Dallas, head of the Governor's Office for Highway Safety. "We know we can do a better job" in protecting pedestrians, he said.

Jane Jacobs died last week. I only just read The Death and Life of Great American Cities recently - that puts me in the second or third generation of planning students to be influenced by her thinking. NYT Obit here and somewhat provocative NYT article saying it's time to move on here.

Perhaps her legacy has been most damaged by those who continue to treat "Death and Life" as sacred text rather than as what it was: a heroic cri de coeur. Of those, the New Urbanists are the most guilty; in many cases, they reduced her vision of corner shops and busy streets to a superficial town formula that creates the illusion of urban diversity, but masks a stifling uniformity at its core.

For those who could not see it, the hollowness of this urban planning strategy was finally exposed in New Orleans, where planners were tarting up historic districts for tourists, even as deeper social problems were being ignored and its infrastructure was crumbling.

The answer to such superficiality is not to resurrect the spirit of Robert Moses. But in retrospect his vision, however flawed, represented an America that still believed a healthy government would provide the infrastructure — roads, parks, bridges — that binds us into a nation. Ms. Jacobs, at her best, was fighting to preserve the more delicate bonds that tie us to a community. A city, to survive and flourish, needs both perspectives.

The lesson we should take from Ms. Jacobs was her ability to look at the city with her eyes wide open, without rigid prejudices. Maybe we should see where that lesson leads next.

Did he or didn't he: politics imitate bad science fiction

Colombia president Uribe met with US Senators Arlen Spector and Jeff Sessions in April. On the table for discussion: immigration controls. Spector reported back to the Congress that Uribe suggested his own measure for ensuring that Colombians do not overstay their visas: microchips inserted under the skin.

Articles in the NY Times and El Tiempo. Following a backlash in Colombia, Uribe agreed to a rare interview last night on CityTV to deny the report. So did he or didn't he?

My version of "he said, he said..."

Spector:

'President Uribe said he would consider having Colombian workers have microchips implanted into their bodies before they are permitted to enter the United States to work on a seasonal basis,'' said Specter in a speech entered to the Congressional record April 25. ''I doubted whether the implantation of microchips would be effective since the immigrant worker might be able to remove them.'

Uribe:

I told them (the US): if the US with all its developed technology, with computers, with chips, does not have the mechanisms to know whether a person who entered for seasonal work stayed in the country or returned to Colombia, then where are we? When asked if this meant he agreed with the microchips proposal, he said, "I have nothing left to add."

Hmm, that's one heck of a misunderstanding. Uribe went on to say he merely exhorted Spector and Sessions to come up with a more humane way of treating immigrants. [On a side note, Uribe's accent drives me nuts. He sounds exactly like the students at los Andes.]

Girls are LOUD

When I meet someone for the first time, I often have a lot of questions. But do I ask them? No, I think it will be overwhelming, or too personal, so I try to keep the queries within reason. But kids don't have this limitation. They will ask whatever comes to mind, whenever. Sometimes all at once.

So today, my first day at a girls' school on the south side of Bogota, one of the 40 13-year-olds surrounding my desk looked at me in a rare quiet moment and asked, "Do you believe in God?" Actually she said, "Crees en Dios?" but whatever, I was taken aback. "I believe in the soul...and I believe we all have a spirituality, but God up in the sky I'm not sure about. I have a lot of questions" was the best I could come up with. It's funny how a direct question like that can be so hard to answer.

To backtrack, today was my first day at the Colegio Liceo Femenino Mercedes Narino (don't be thrown off by the church photo - it became a public school 3 years ago). I'm going to be lending a hand with sexual health and feminism classes, as near as I can tell. I wasn't sure exactly what I was signing on for when I met one of the teachers at the school at a conference, but when I mentioned I was looking for a place to volunteer with kids, her face lit up and I just couldn't say no.

And now I'm glad - these girls were great, not timid at all. That also translates into one helluva loud classroom, but it was loud with questions. And there's something very satisfying about a good, thought-provoking question, especially when it comes from a 13-yr-old girl who hasn't yet learned what not to ask.

Feria de Libros, or, Really no better way to spend an afternoon

Can you think of one? I just can't.Corferias, the enormous conference center where the fair is being held.

I came away with five books, three of which are so pertinent it's almost funny: La Participation Ciudadana en Bogota: mirando el presente, pensando en el futuro; Reflexiones sobre cultura ciudadana en Bogota; y Multiculturalismo y Constitucion Politica: el neocontractualismo de John Rawls, Charles Taylor, y la Constitucion Politica de Colombia de 1991.

Earlier today a friend made us lunch -- beans with beets and carrots, fresh juice, then cake. I took these pictures out of her window on another grey day in Bogota.Shards of glass mean keep out, but they are beautiful somehow as well. I've always been struck by the contrast. Does it mean anything more than what is on the surface? Is it representative of anything particular to Latin America?

Day two, a city "paro"lizado

from El Tiempo

The ironies of the bus strike continue: apparently the union (Apetrans) organizing the current paro also ordered strikes to protest:

1. Bogota's world-renowned Car-free Day
   
2. Pico y Placa, the system by which the number of vehicles on the road are regulated by license number and day of the week
3. TransMilenio, Bogota's also world-renowned bus rapid transit system, which although not perfect has decreased the dangerous levels of air pollution in the city and benefitted millions of people on their daily journeys

Not the best record in town. El Tiempo editorial today: Chataje en las calles (Blackmail in the streets). This time around the union president said the paro is to protest:

1. "Pico y Placa ambiental," a program that among other requirements, will take buses older than 10 years off the roads. [This has been talked about for years with no results. The majority of Bogota's microbus stock is around 12 years old. ]
   
2. The shutting down of routes for no reason [they are being shut down on routes that TM now covers]
3. Persecution by the Transit Police [I can't comment on this as I've never seen it, but I have seen buses involved in hit and runs, as well as buses whose passengers have fallen off simply speed away].
   

Yet at the same time, the immediate human costs of the city's efforts to modernize public transportation are pressing. The union represents almost 25,000 owner/operators and bus companies, most of whom are afraid they will lose their livelihood. In contrast, 9 familes are responsible for the operation of TransMilenio's buses. They are selected through a competitive bidding process (supposedly at least) and are paid by the kilometer covered, not by the passenger.

I don't have any answers, but I do have questions:

1. Why not require the companies that run TransMilenio to hire the soon-to-be out of work bus owners/operators (many own the buses they drive)?
2. How will a successful strike, as measured by the economic damage being evinced, affect the union's bargaining position? Will it simply harden public sentiment against the busetas, already fairly unpopular for their contributions to pollution, congestion, and traffic accidents?
   
3. How long will the city, TM, and the microbuses continue this struggle for the city's transportation needs? Will it continue down to the last buseta? Is there a place for busetas in the city's long-range transit plans?
   

I'm probably boring to death the four or so people who read this blog, so I'll stop now...after one more question: how can the paro of microbuses in Bogota be compared with the "Day without an immigrant" strikes in the US? The city cannot, as it currently exists, function without the busetas. They are simply the most integral part of the public transportation system, which 80% of Bogotanos depend on to get around. Immigrants, similarly, are the quiet engine driving the US economy, in the eyes of many. Maybe efforts to standardize public transportation in Bogota share common goals and growing pains with efforts to standardize immigration in the United States?

Bogota transportation and environment links:

• BiciBogota: http://www.bicibogota.co
• TransMilenio SA: http://www.transmilenio.gov.co/
• Secretaria of Transit: http://www.transitobogota.gov.co/
• A Human City: http://www.ciudadhumana.org/principal.htm (organize Night Rides)
  

Para que el paro...

The usual daily street scene: tons of busetas

Today: long lines, very few buses (this green one is a TM feeder bus) [El Tiempo photo gallery]

May 2nd, the day after workers' day, Bogota's microbuses went on strike. A new stretch of TransMilenio opened Saturday, and mayor gave the order to put many routes and therefore buses out of service. As necessary as this is, as obvious as it is that Bogota has an abundance of high-polluting extremely old buses, the poverty rate (about 49% in Bogota) and unemployment rate (12.5%, which does not take into account people who have stopped looking for work and those who are underemployed) make putting anyone who is working out of a job a huge problem. I wish there were a way and a will to hire those bus drivers to work for TransMilenio, but the contracting out system precludes TM from hiring more than ticket takers to staff the stations. [Video of protesters frustrated with not being able to travel by bus from Ciudad Bolivar, one of Bogota's poorest municipalities. ]

A good indicator of what would have happened (and what still may happen if the strike has its intended effect) if the now-superfluous routes were not taken out of service is the case of Septima and Caracas. Septima has yet to get its TransMilenio retrofitting, while Caracas was one of the first stretches of TM. Today, Septima has 86% more buses than Caracas, and 50% more particulate matter. 1,100 people die from causes directly associated with air pollution in Colombia annually, and asthma cases, especially among children, have skyrocketed in the past few years.

But today, the city shut down. Classes were cancelled, people with vans drove down the main drags offering their services, and no one talked of anything else at fruit stands and bakeries around the city (my pulse-taking method).

An unintended consequence: commerce may have slammed to a halt, but the air sure was clean. I went jogging down Highway 26, where the moon was shining and I could breathe without choking on exhaust. A full three minutes passed in which not a single vehicle broke the twilit silence. Then someone's old farm truck zoomed past, brimming with stranded people. "A cien, a cien!" they called.

The city lurches forward, but who will be left behind?