Although we’re not all drug lords or ruthless leftist rebels, I can’t deny the violence that rocks the city that gave me birth and where I spent the past year. I've been fortunate to live the beauty of Colombia and could write a number of stories about how much I've loved living there. See Vengo del Monte. Unfortunately, I also must write about the dark side. Filtering only the good stories just wouldn't be right. It's not reality.
So here goes:
My wife’s 11 year old cousin had been staying with us over the weekends because she was struggling with school. She lives in a rough neighborhood so we figured having her around us might help, at least temporarily, her situation. I pick her up around 7pm at a downtown bus stop that her and her mother had agreed we meet. We live on the west side of Medellin and she lives on the east so this spot is half way between.
I get on the same bus that I've taken at least 100 times since being in Medellin. Elevator music here is usually a salsa station, which is an enjoyable aspect of living in Medellin. So there was no surprise that the first song I heard when stepping on the bus was Las Mafia by Orquesta Narvaez, although I didn’t expect the irony of it.
La Mafia by Orquesta Narvaez off the album Reincarnation
The first ten minutes or so are just as normal as any of the previous 100 trips until we get a few blocks from a bridge that takes us over the Medellin River and out of the downtown area. A man dressed in a white button down short sleeve shirt and jeans comes on the bus looking very anxious and announces to the bus driver, "Close the doors. Don't let that man in the back off the bus." Now I had heard stories of gang members coming on buses and robbing passengers so my heart rate instantly shot up. Before picking up my wife's cousin, I had withdrawn some money from my bank account, around $800. This doesn't seem like a whole lot but given that most people only make $250 or less a month, it's quite a lot of money to be carrying around in your pocket. It's approximately 1.5 million pesos, which sounds like a fortune. Plus, I had American debit cards in my wallet so who knows what robbers would have done had they discovered a gold mine, an American with a ton of cash in his pocket and more importantly, access to more cash. So all the stories I heard of the dangers of a South American big city came rushing through my mind.
I sighed a bit when the man sits on the passenger seat and tells the bus driver that he's not here to rob him or anyone on the bus. That “phew moment” lasted... well... just a moment... as he grabs what appears to be a gun under his shirt/jeans while he warns the driver about letting the other man in the back off the bus.
Ladies and gentlemen, you are witnessing a kidnapping!
He again assures the bus driver (still holding what appears to be a gun) that he's not here to rob anyone but that the bus driver will be taking him and the other man to the water falls or cliffs (not sure on the translation). He further explains that there are people waiting for him to deliver the other man.
I turn to my left and see the 11 year old girl follow the gunman down the aisle with her eyes towards the poor man that will most likely meet his death tonight. While I almost pissed my pants, she's ready to pull out some popcorn and watch tonight's entertainment. I yank her shirt and angrily tell her to look forward. Just as this happens, the bus crosses the river and pulls over. A woman that appears in her early twenties maybe even late teens stands up virtually in tears and pleads to the man to let us off the bus. The man follows with "any passenger that wants to get off can do so but by no means can the man in the back get off." I now start hearing the other man plead his case (I don't dare turn around). So we don't stick around for that popcorn, we bolt out of that bus.
After discussing this experience with a few locals, I was reassured that the kidnapping of random foreigners was highly unlikely. As a friend explained, the man being kidnapped must have been involved in gang activity and was sure to be paying his debt. “Unless you’re the son of the CEO of Phillip Morris, you’re more likely to get mugged than kidnapped for ransom” he proclaims. He lived in an area of the city that my mother-in-law found undesirable to say the least so I’m sure he knew what he was talking about. I guess it was only fitting that the bus driver was playing Orquesta Narvaez that day, specifically La Mafia. It’s no wonder this album is one of the more popular salsa clasica albums in Medellin. It’s unbelievable that I’ve been able to find 8 vinyl copies of this album during my record shopping adventures. Perhaps that was a small sign of the sociological problems facing the city.
So aside from the obvious traumatic experience, here's what bothered me:
Who on earth would be stupid enough to hijack a bus to kidnap one person? You're not robbing anyone and you're letting everyone, who can now describe you, off the bus. I'm not a criminal but I'm sure there are more discrete ways to kidnap someone. Although we, as Americans, may think of this as a farfetched Hollywood scene, there are similar issues in the states, just not as blatant. There is something about privilege and violence in the US that sometimes buffers us. It doesn't mean that things don't happen. The violence that occurred on that bus was blatant and in our face - which one, I know this is a sick question, is preferable?
I have mulled over this for months. I keep thinking of how this 11 year old girl wasn't fazed one bit. As soon as we got off the bus, she was cracking jokes as though what had just occurred was part of her daily routine. Her attitude on the bus confirms this. While emotions paralyzed me, she had just as quickly put the event behind her. She's been desensitized to violence. No one, especially an 11 year old, should ever HAVE to be desensitized to violence. I was later explained that she has witnessed far worse than what we experienced that night.
I’m still grappling with what it means to be desensitized but my gut reaction was to criticize the locals for their willingness to accept violence. Only a hand full of the passengers left the bus that night. I was shocked to see the number of passengers that stayed behind. They must have known the danger they had just accepted, right?
My wife and I love living in a city. We're city people for sure and whether Boston or Medellin, there's a certain pre-disposition to violence that comes along with living in any large city. While I criticized the locals, I neglected my wife witnessing a shooting in Boston a few years back. Good friends of mine lived in Blackburg, VA during the Virginia Tech shootings and if I was scared while watching the story unfold on the news, I could only imagine the fear and confusion they lived that day. In fact, what prompted me to post this story was getting a text message from my old college roommate that his wife found their home trashed this past Wednesday. They had been robbed.
So why was I so quick to judge the locals for being desensitized? I have friends that are teachers. They see horrible fights at school and what’s even more stomach turning is the way the kids flock to the fights like a show. When we realize that this IS the ordinary for way TOO many young people, not just those living in Medellin, we can begin to understand how that casual attitude is sometimes a way of protecting oneself from showing and feeling fear - a fear that could very well be debilitating. We can begin to understand why La Mafia could be an anthem for so many youths for over 35 years later.
Does this attitude that protects people really mean that they are desensitized? Do people who experience such violence and corruption really believe that is ok, or just tout the party line because that is what is safe? I wonder what organizations may exist in Colombia, like in other parts of the world that may indeed be working and putting themselves in danger to make change, to get people to speak up. In the states, kids are dead serious when they say "snitches get stitches". What organizations, communities and people exist that are working to combat that?
I know several Colombians living in the states that talk about how they left the because of the violence or have family members that have been kidnapped by the FARC. They are often in shock that no one seems to know about this in the states. Then when we look at organizations and UN declarations that are SUPPOSED to protect and educate they are equally enraged that nothing is done.
Where is the line between running from danger and facing it? What does it mean now that my wife and I are parents? It's one thing to work for Amnesty International to help people so that they feel safe about speaking out against such violence when you’re single, but what about now that we have our loved ones and children to think about? Do we take those risks to show our children we are making this world better for them while acknowledging that what we are doing is indeed quite dangerous? Or do we try to help and make change from afar? I don't have answers for any of this, but now that I’m a few months detached from this experience and living back in the states, it brings these issues up for me.
Peace
DJ Walt
