17 May 2015

17 May 2015 - Sunday

Three blessedly cool days. The clouds have come and brought relief from the suffocating heat we sometimes experience. I am grateful for that.

Yesterday we taught our second youth workshop. I don't think I've yet described what they are or why we do them – it is about time I do so. We decided to base our workshop on a "Serious Legos" training that has been done around the world with business executives and communities. Several people at SembrandoPaz had been through it, and upon hearing about it we thought it would be excellent for the youth. Using Legos, they construct themselves, their community, and their future. Then, as a group, we reflect on what they've built and what it reveals about their wants and needs. The goal is to familiarize the youth with their region's wants and needs, giving them the tools to unite and launch projects across the region. I'm only here for the initial stages of the project, but I think we're starting an important process.

Then last night Lani and I attended a "quinceañero" (Colombian for quinceañera). It was so fun to see the combination of Black and Latin cultures in these people. The result was a not-overly-pompous but poignant ceremony for the girl's 15th birthday and coming of age, pounding Caribeña music, couples dancing everywhere, much alcohol, and a long night – many were there past 5am. I left much earlier, which I sometimes do even at American parties, but was very glad I had the chance to see a 'fiesta' down here before I left.

This morning we made the long trip back into the beautiful semitropical hills of the Alta Montaña, headed for another Lego workshop with a youth group in there. It's a younger group, mostly 10 to 18, which is a little outside what I imagine to be the prime age for organizing the youth in the area. But if they're willing to work we are willing to take them; youth need to support each other in positive projects at every age. And I am impressed at the spirit which prevailed in this little group when we met briefly to introduce ourselves – it is clearly built to make these youth better people, not for any outside benefit. They plan to learn guitar together, play foosball, and generally become more well-rounded and wise. I admire that. I hope it works.

I have been reading a book out here which has caused me to reflect on the creation of strong communities and governments. I have recently come face-to-face with the drastic implications of the nonviolent teachings of Christ through research for work and my own study of the Scriptures. He truly was the prince of peace, and I believe he meant for us to turn the other cheek, love our enemies, and never use violence or force – only to invite. But being here in Colombia, watching violence and anger and apathy slowly break communities down, I am reminded of another philosophy: Niccolo Machiavelli. Machiavelli wrote a brilliant treatise on the peaceful government of a republic, but his most famous work is 'The Prince', which instructs absolute monarchs on how to do their own populations. His idea seems to be that a powerful prince has to require people to behave, giving them a certain level of virtue before those people can take part in their own governments as a republic. In the novel I read, a king came to the same conclusion: he was trying to lead by example and invite people to do good, but he decided that he needed to subdue them and teach them forcefully before they would be ready to live virtuously.

In moments, I have wondered if some of the developing world has the same need as Machiavelli and this fictional King identified, strong-armed governments who instill a basic sense of civic virtue in the populace so that they can govern themselves well in the future. But that seems to run contrary to the universality of Christ teachings, our imperative to govern always bye love, humility, and difference to free will. Is it possible to be both strong-armed and Christlike? Furthermore, this idea forces me to re-examine my own cultures past of colonialism, both in the United States and Western Europe. Many of those colonists were sure they knew better than the people they encountered, determined to "civilize" them by strong-armed tactics (forced Christian conversion, imposing Western standards of dress and art, breaking down tribal councils and existing governments). And I look at the awful consequences of such overconfident reform in Africa, Latin America, Asia, and think: "Never again." There is certainly value in strength and in setting high standards, but it must never come at the cost of essential freedom for humankind. There must be a way to balance those needs.

One of my good friends, Jorge, next to a beautiful mural in a tiny town.

One last thought before bed. I was talking with a friend today about the apparent paradox between the giving spirit in these communities and their ability to work together toward ideals of order, cleanliness, and progress. He has been living in one of these communities for a while and suggested that much of the supposed problem may stem from the fact that the communities function more like families than like associations of neighbors. Most of us can agree that accomplishing something within the family is often more difficult than with strangers, particularly if it is a new or complex problem which needs to be solved. Financial problems are notorious and marriages and I've heard many couples who advise against going into business together after having tried it. Children can be pediment, spouses stubborn, grandparents bossy, uncles and aunts nosy. So if the family is even slightly dysfunctional, it can make accomplishing tasks very difficult. Well, these rural communities are often more like family than not: most are related by blood or marriage, they grew up together on the streets and in the schools, everyone knows the gossip about everyone. And I would not call these community-families particularly functional much of the time, for reasons outside of my ability to comprehend. So I think my friend had an excellent point. These communities love each other and are loyal to each other like families. They also fight like (somewhat dysfunctional) families. That makes working as an outsider a great deal harder.

PS The stars here in the hills are extraordinary. I spent a few minutes looking up at them through the palm trees as lightning bugs flashed around me. They are so bright, so near. Like friends. But the kind of friends you don't quite comprehend, despite your mutual respect.

15 May 2015

15 May 2015 - Friday

Today we walked over 12 miles gathering surveys from the youth in the area of Libertad. We are trying to get as much feedback as possible for our future project proposals, seeing what a good sample of youth from the region wants and needs. We had about ten youth walking with us, bravely approaching people – many older than them – and asking them to fill out a fairly detailed form. It was fun to watch them become more bold, more excited, and more willing to help. Youth is a wonderful time of life, with such desires to make a difference in the world and a willingness to do it in small contexts. I am blessed to be working with youth during this month.

A few of the youth we worked with on the long walk in Libertad -- Yeison,
María, and Paloma.

One other thing which made up for the long walk was the beach. The first town we visited was built on the beach, not within view of or overlooking the beach but on the beach – we entered the town through fields and trees and exited on the shores of the Caribbean. Fishing shelters dotted the shore and boats the sea, small outboard motorboats and little wooden canoes with fisherman leaning out and spreading nets into the sea. The waves were soft and calm, moving as if the warm climate left them just as dozy as the people onshore. And the warmth of the water – it made me want to fling myself into the welcoming waves and swim far from the shore. But considering my jeans, shirt, and long distance from a change of clothes, I decided that would be unwise. So I walked through the shallow waves instead, drinking in the salty breeze and watching the youth joke and laugh on the beach. I treasure those moments.

14 May 2015

14 May 2015 - Thursday

(Note: I've decided to just title my posts by the day they were written. Simpler and more true to the spirit in which they are written.)

The last few days have been nice. After a couple days of traveling and teaching in hot weather, we have been able to recover a little in the Alta Montaña and in Sincelejo. I had a really nice conversation with a Mennonite friend who is here visiting a college friend, an employee of SembrandoPaz, discussing religion and Brandon Sanderson and college and much more. I also had a nice long talk with Ricardo Esquivia, the director of SembrandoPaz. He was a little curious about Mormons, so we traded stories about our religions and then moved into international development, political philosophy, and other related topics. He is a wise man who has found a corner in life where he is both effective and happy. He has done such good things for the Montes de María region, a series of dozens of town on the Colombian coast which were heavily affected by the armed conflict. In addition, he lives just out of town on a farm and has time to work in the garden, direct the planting of rare or historical plants, and sit on the porch with his wife (who works with the organization as well). It is a simple yet powerful life.

In fact, I had the fascinating opportunity to visit Ricardo's farm yesterday. The major thrust of the farm is to develop a self-sustaining agriculture, which Ricardo feels is lacking in the modern capitalistic system. He has all sorts of trees growing there: mangoes, plantains, limes, Haitian limes, oranges, coconuts, and several which I have never heard of but which apparently provide great nutrition with less intensive farming than plants which must be replanted each year. But he also grows herbs and more traditional crops: several strains of corn descended from old indigenous plants, tomatoes, and the like. The entire idea is fascinating. Oh, and since the farm manager climbed a coconut tree I decided to try it myself. I only got about 5 feet off the ground and paid for it with several small scrapes, a hearty laugh from the manager, and a sheepish grin. Totally worth it.

Ricardo's farm, with some yuca plants growing. They are a root, and one
of the most common foods eaten on the coast.

Our First Workshop

11 May 2015 - Monday

I'm standing outside listening to the persistent hum of cicadas in every surrounding tree. Down the street someone is celebrating, a large band playing – mostly in tune – as the laughs of revelers float between notes. The warm night is a relief after the hot, humid day, the air less suffocating. It's a good time to be in Colombia.

Yesterday I was able to go to church again. It's funny how the whole city feels more comfortable now that I've come back home to it from a short trip, and that includes church here. It was nice to see familiar faces, to trade a couple of jokes, to give the closing prayer in one meeting. It makes me miss having a nice routine, but I came here for different reasons.

After church it was off to the Alta Montaña for our first youth workshop. A week and a half of sporadic planning have brought us to an unusual plan – the workshop is based on a set of "Serious Legos" that SembrandoPaz obtained a few years ago. Youth build models of themselves and their communities, then work in groups to build a shared vision of the future. Through this "hands-on, minds-on" tactic we strive to help participants and facilitators gain new perspectives on the needs and capabilities of youth in each community. Our goal is to get representatives from each area who can later come together and share what they learned in the workshops to build an over-arching project proposal for the youth organizations in this rural zone. It's an ambitious plan, but our small start should at least give an idea of its viability.

Our road into the Alta Montaña.

First, before we even began the workshop, our motorcycle ride there was glorious. We followed a winding dirt road that climbed and then plunged through forest and thickets, revealing layer upon layer of jagged hills covered in lush greenery. And riding through that country on motorcycle was somehow so freeing – wind rushing by, insect noises everywhere, the thick tropical air filling lungs and heart alike. I have rarely felt so alive.

The workshop itself, despite the unusual heat of the day, went quite well. (Note: I don't actually notice when one day is hotter than another because they all feel so stifling to me, so I rely on accounts from others for comparison.) The youth in Alta Montaña have been organized for a while, so they have several solid group efforts going and some beautiful goals, educational and otherwise. What struck me the most, however, was their vision of the intergenerational character of the work. They wanted to build so that others after them could continue these youth organizations. They wanted to build so that their children and grandchildren could build on the foundation. And as I listened to them talk, I was struck by the intergenerational character of everything that we do. We build on what our parents have given us, we never build completely anew; our children and grandchildren are likewise blessed and cursed. Real cultural change takes generations, but that is no reason to ease up in our efforts to change the world – indeed, it should make us work harder. If we can merely help cultivate a kinder, wiser, nobler view of the world in younger generations, the world will slowly approach God. "Shall we not go on and so great a cause?"

A picture from the workshop, with the youth working on Lego models of
themselves and their communities.

Day-to-Day Life in Colombia

10 May 2015 - Sunday

I've been wanting to describe the place I live here (or places, rather, given the extensive traveling we do). First, despite the fact that this part of Colombia (the Caribbean coast) rarely dips below 90% humidity and 75°F (hotter during the day), air conditioning is a rare thing. It's most a function of income, of course – that's a huge monthly expense and a big drain on an already stretched power distribution system – but some people here genuinely dislike it. They've grown to love the heat, tolerate the sweat, and take cold showers when it gets to be too much. I, however, will be glad to have air conditioning, cooler nights, and varying seasons back in the states.

The normal flow of water from

a Colombian showerhead.

At any rate, no air conditioning means fans are on constantly. Also, all houses are open to the air (cracks under the doors, holes under the eaves, windows in inside rooms) to allow for as much airflow as possible. That means houses get more bugs and dust than in the US, which rules out the possibility of carpet or many cloth furnishings. Furthermore, out in the countryside, running water and electricity are technically installed but go out often, especially the water, meaning we shower
with buckets or bowls much of the time (and wash dishes, etc.). Even if the shower does work, it's rarely a shower head – just a normal stream of water. And always cold – it's too hot here to be worth heating the water, even in the city. Finally, water here is rarely filtered so foreigners like me have to buy filtered water by the bottle (or by the bag, a common thing here).

It's hardly a complete description of living conditions here, but it's as close as I will get to trying. Just know that I am almost always hot and at least a bit damp.

Today I also made the long trip from Lani's little town back to Sincelejo. I started on motorcycle taxi, but halfway to our first destination we felt the beginnings of a torrential downpour. Luckily the driver was wise enough to pull over to a small shelter which housed over two dozen people like us, travelers escaping the rain – most were talking, half-heartedly gambling on a few old tables, or staring glumly out at the rain (see right). On the other hand, I was thrilled. It had been weeks since I wasn't hot and wet, and now I was at least cold and wet. We finished the drive as the storm turned to a drizzle, which left me soaked and a bit colder but still happy. The country was beautiful in the rain, and the post-storm climate was the least humid it's ever been during my time here. From that destination I caught a bus back into Sincelejo, and settled in for at least one night back "home."

On the way I was thinking about the pace of life in Latin cultures, especially rural. Anyone who knows me has probably noted that I like to move at a hundred miles an hour whenever I can, stretching myself thin and overcommitting myself to get as much done as possible. Latin people think that's crazy, at least many of be Mexicans and Colombians that I've spent time with. In Mexico I learned to tolerate the different way of life, starting meetings late and waiting for friends and rescheduling appointments as needed. But I didn't let it go through me – when I returned to the states, I quickly adopted the same hectic schedule as before. This time around I've been forced to reconsider that posture and make sure it is (1) healthy and (2) genuinely good in the long run. I was talking with a friend who lived her childhood in this slow-paced coastal region and her college/post-college years in faster-paced Bogotá, and she mentioned the unfortunate habit of many people with fast-paced lives to focus on products rather than people. It's a familiar attitude in economics, where labor is often reduced to a variable on par with with utilities or cost of materials. And that is not the way I want to see the world. So first, as far as the health part goes, I think there is something to be said for slowing down. But I am often much more fulfilled and emotionally healthy when I am "anxiously engaged in a good cause." If I also manage to sleep enough during those times, I usually feel physically great as well (or no worse than average). So as long as I pay attention to my emotional and physical well-being, I'm not too worried about the health of a rushed life.

The view on the way home to Sincelejo.

The issue of caring more about products more than about people is, however, a bigger one. There is certainly a balance to be achieved here – we must always care about people AND get things done. Indeed, not getting enough done can actually hurt a community in the long run. So the question I must ask myself is whether I am sufficiently watching out for people as I strive to get things done, or, on the other hand, if I need to take a page out of the Latin American book and care more about people. I certainly do a better job of that when there is less on the line – here with SembrandoPaz, I feel like I've been very relaxed and easy on the people I work with because I don't have to prove myself here. On the other hand, with school or work projects (especially in consulting case competitions) I have been less forgiving because jobs are on the line. During school, I often work from morning tonight on weekdays, though I have made a pretty regular habit of taking time out of my evenings if someone needs it. Weekends are much better – dates or friends Fri/Sat nights, usually some activity Saturday (sometimes schoolwork), visiting and worship on Sundays. You know, I feel pretty comfortable with that. It's not community-centric like the lives of people here, but it's allowed me to maintain some incredible relationships while achieving some very important goals. I will have to find a new balance during consulting – especially since weekdays will be even less free than during school – but I don't think I'm on the wrong track. I suppose I can only hope.

Conflict and Reparations in Colombia

9 May 2015 - Saturday

In the mid-1960s, Colombia began sliding into civil war. The causes were complicated – a 1940s assassination ushered in a repressive anti-communist regime, which was soon challenged by the 1960s pro-communist tide in Latin America. Harsh government tactics against the movement led to the formation of violent rebel guerrilla groups (like FARC), so then the US intervened militarily in what it saw as another communist revolution. With the national government on its heels, rich Colombian landowners formed their own "paramilitary" groups for protection. In the chaos, both guerrillas and paramilitaries (especially the latter) turned to producing and selling cocaine for funding, which got the US even more involved.

It has been a slow-burning conflict ever since, but that hardly means it hasn't affected the country. Mistrust and frustration abound. In the 1980s more than 500 leaders of a leftist/communist political party were killed, including several presidential candidates, possibly by the government. Over 200,000 people, the majority civilians, have died over the years. And approximately 5 million people – 10% of Colombia's population – have been displaced from their homes, mostly ancestral farmland in rural areas, because of fear or threats from both guerrillas and paramilitaries. This means huge shantytown slums around the bigger cities, broken rural homes, suspicion within villages, the breaking of centuries of tradition, lost youth, and much more. Into this mess has stepped SembrandoPaz, the organization I am working for, trying to build peace by helping affected communities develop healthy dialogue and healthy political processes. My job specifically is to help youth (15-25 ish) get involved in that process through organizations, projects, and work.

The location of Sincelejo, on the northern
end of Colombia. The towns we work with
are north of here for an hour or two.

Given that background, we have an interesting situation here in Colombia which may or may not have wider application. I just sat through a series of three 3-hour workshops in a small community, conducted by a government-employed, university-educated architect who has devoted himself to teaching oppressed and indigenous communities about their rights. The major reason seems to be that the government has been remiss in its task of helping poor and oppressed communities. Several articles of the Colombian constitution and laws require support for these remote regions, especially in reparation for the decades of armed conflict that tore them apart. So this government employee and his organization have decided to go to these communities and help them take charge of their own reparation and advancement, teaching them about applicable laws and government programs. Their eventual hope, it seems, is that the communities will figure out things that they actually want, will organize, and will demand help from the government. Essentially, they want these communities to take the future into their own hands and not depend on distracted and slow-moving government officials.

My question is this: are we moving in the right direction? It took twelve years for a recent reparations plan to make its rounds through this area, and by the time it started to kick in the pertinent national laws had changed. The government might move slowly, but in legal matters (especially in complicated plans) it may still move faster than fractious communities. The towns can make their own proposals for what the government should do, but the government officials will only do it if it fits in their larger plan. The exception is when the majority of the community gets behind a simple, powerful idea and demands government action. Think of India: "One hundred thousand Englishmen cannot rule three hundred million Inidians if those Indians refuse to cooperate." Or the civil rights movement of the 1960s in the US. Or even the uprising here in this town in the mid-2000s, when they rose up against the harsh rule of an armed paramilitary group and liberated themselves. Those were simple, powerful ideas. But the complicated reparation plans which follow those conflicts, figuring out who gets which resources and how to reconstruct civil society – that's the long work of political entities. People can participate in town meetings and give feedback, of course, but communities simply do not have the time to sit in hours of meetings and fight over endless details of complex plans. That's why they elect representatives! And if those representatives do a poor job of meeting the needs or interests of the citizens, in a democracy they can theoretically be replaced. It's more difficult than that, of course, but the basic idea should work.

So what is the role of outside organizations, if the main work must be done within communities and their local political processes? I think the best outside help, and this includes national government, comes in (1) education, (2) administrative consulting, (3) basic civic structures, (4) a basic safety net to prevent absolute poverty, and (5) health consulting. I'm sure I missed a few things, and those would come out in further discussion, but the point is that getting the community to demand complex reparation plans is both outside the role of a community and unhelpful for their dependence on outside entities. We want self-sufficency, ultimately, in the interest of human dignity. These communities have open elections, full political enfranchisement, freedom from armed violence (largely) – the big demands are largely met, the kind that the civil rights movement fought for. Now the long, hard work of constructing a civil society begins, and it cannot be done at a national level. It must be done on the ground, by the people who will participate, in their own way and in their own time. And this is why the work of external community organizers worries me – the evolution of daily interactions and social power structures must come from within.

So let the Colombian government do what reparations it will, listening closely to feedback from communities. But our energy as outside actors should be spent creating the conditions for growth – removing obstacles (absolute poverty, lack of meeting space, lack of education) and providing outside experience (in administration, health, and more).

To the Countryside

7 May 2015 - Thursday

Tonight is my first night out in the 'campo'. I traveled out with my supervisor (ish) Lani, talking about Colombia and home and her decision to spend at least four years of her life with SembrandoPaz here. She loves the work, as well as the people, and really feels she has purpose here that she doesn't have back in the states. Well, I know some returned missionaries who feel the same way, so I don't blame her at all. She will probably come out a better person for it, though it's not an easy road.

After a long bus ride (with a good deal of waiting interspersed – that is normal in developing countries, I think) we arrived in the city in which Lani serves as a liaison. It is a small-ish town of Afro-Colombians, not 10 minutes from the Caribbean coast and still humid like Sincelejo. We got here just in time for a meeting with some government representatives about making a plan for "collective reparations," which is a common theme in these communities. They include community structures but also community councils, better teachers for the schools, and such intangible benefits. It is closely related to SembrandoPaz's work, trying to move beyond cash payments or physical construction into the world of communities and ideas. Hard work, but important.

A typical street in Lani's community.

As Lani and I were discussing this theme on the way here, I started to ponder these poor rural communities (Latin and African in particular) that are often seen as more communal but have something very uncooperative about their actual communities. Why is that? It struck me that they are definitely better at fulfilling direct obligations incurred by family or relationships – kids take care of parents, government officials give cousins jobs, parents sacrifice everything for kids (crossing the border). Howver, interestingly, they don't have the same abstract sense of justice many Western societies have inherited, the kind that considers all people equal before the law. I think that is still kind of silly to many of them – my grandmother is not just like every other old lady, and I should stand by her even if she does something contrary to societal law. In a fascinating way, I think this even affects their view of themselves – I am not just some other guy, I am me, the only one who watch out for me in the end. I shouldn't see myself in some removed, dispassionate flight.

All these things are probably true, but there seems to be a lack of objectivity in these societies which could balance that subjectivity. (It may be the opposite in Western societies, but that's another discussion.) It's Kant's categorical imperative coming back to haunt me, despite my belief that the imperative is alone insufficient to guide human action: act as if you could wish everyone to act in the same way in a similar situation (roughly). Should everyone try to make personal trips on company money? Should everyone sell their vote for a few dollars? Should everyone beat up the neighbor who insults a loved one? Clearly reason is not enough to make a healthy society, but I think these communities could use some rational, universalizable standards of behavior.

While sitting in the meeting today, as well as yesterday's, I also began to ponder the importance of the lawyers. It's a bit silly, I realize, but I was struck by how often laws and articles of the Constitution came up. Humankind put so much stock in their hastily written, imperfect laws, and if people can be convinced something is required (and enforced) by law, they are much more likely to do it. That even includes many villagers, though the subjective perspective mentioned above probably makes that instinct less powerful. So in defending the rights of the poor and oppressed, if a lawyer can make a great case for a true moral principle by appealing to an existing law, the rest of society is very likely to go along even if it is not pleased. Additionally, if a lawyer can help the poor and oppressed fight for their rights through existing laws, the rich and powerful are more likely to listen. While that doesn't quite make me want to be a lawyer, it does make me re-think the value of a JD.

At the workshop on collective reparation.

One final thought on today's workshop. The facilitator, a nice guy with a European complexion, has clearly spent some time with these poor communities. He is determined to help them make proposals for collective reparation and is frustrated by the apparent lack of progress or effort in the community. But I think he overlooks the simple fact that every comment in the meetings focuses not on reparations or laws or definitions – they focus on relationships and trust (or the lack thereof). These people aren't concerned about collective land rights when they don't have a functioning council to govern the land, aren't concerned about making community-wide proposals when they can't even get the whole community to meet together. It seems that getting them to meet about and agree on smaller things might be better. Certainly it will also be important to educate the children, not just for a few years but constantly, in great schools, until they begin to balance the subjective outlook with (a reasonable quantity of) objectivity. But that's a work of generations, and we can't afford for these communities to fall into more violence and mistrust while waiting for the next few generations to take over. So how do we help communities racked by mistrust and self- or family-focus to function now, long enough for education to help?

Hard questions abound here.