I wonder what motivates people to move to Colombia to work as human rights observers and activists. Purpose. I keep hearing people talking about purpose. Then I hear other people saying life would be better if we just existed, peacefully, on our own, purpose-free, like cats. Cats are nothing if not purpose-less.

Tonight, Aimee's despedida. A chiminea, loads of lasagna, no wine until I went out for some, in boxes that gushed cheap wine everywhere, and a house full of peace workers. Incredible people to a one. Heard a story tonight, of a police state, our fucked up drug policy, fumigation, torture, and a group of people from around the world who care enough to come to Colombia to see the worst and tell it back home. She took a delegation to visit the manual eradicators working to pull up all the coca in Colombia. Said most of them were demobilized p's who wore their former employment on their faces, missing fingers, burnt skin and bent noses. Torture being a mark of induction into their ranks.

Most importantly, the woman telling the story spoke with such passion of what she sees as the Colombian community, celebrating what they can, thumbing their nose at violence, despair, and utter destruction. If I take nothing else back, not Ciclovia nor trinkets nor bus lore, I want to learn this.

I'm starting to feel awfully constricted, stuck here by fear, whether reasonable or not, in the capital city. I need to get out of town, see the rest of this gorgeously messed up place. We're planning a trip to Cali in a few weeks, but I want to see some of the reality my friends work with every day. Just not sure how.
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Tomorrow I'm attending the first set of public meetings to decide local social spending. I'm hoping to compare the results among richer and poorer localities to see how "strata," a special Colombian formulation of socioeconomic status designed to reflect housing and infrastucture but which has become a proxy for social standing, affects the participatory process. Good clean city-loving nerd fun.