Solidarity with Columbian sisters

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In case it wasn't reported in any of our respected mainstream Canadian press, I want you to know that on July 28 some 60,000 Colombian women converged at the capital of Bogota for an unprecedented peace march.

Thanks to the Canada Columbia Solidarity Campaign (CCSC) the march included a show of Canadian solidarity (Toronto-style) in which four other women and I joined women from the Colombian Postal Workers Union for this massive mobilization.

Our delegation was diverse and included a human rights lawyer and legal representative for the Canadian Arab Federation, an advocate for anti-violence and representative from the Ontario Public Interest Research Group, the group leader from the CCSC, a union activist, and myself, a dedicated community activist and member of Wasauksing First Nation.

Prior to leaving for the march, the CCSC briefed us on security issues and the history and political situation of Colombia. Like Canada, Colombia has experienced the legacy of colonialism, which left the Indigenous population a marginal three per cent. Thirty per cent of the population is made up of Afro-Colombians, whom the Spanish brought as slaves, but who still maintain a distinct culture and have established territories along the coast.

This leaves the mestizos, who form the majority of Colombians and are a mix of Spanish and Indigenous descent that identify with their European roots.

In 2001, the CCSC reported that 5,000 individual mestizos own 40 per cent of Colombia's land base and rich resources. It is a myth that Colombia is a poor country. It is one of the wealthiest countries in the world because of its resources, and no doubt one of the wealthiest nations in the Americas. Like most of the developing world, what makes Colombia poor is that its wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few elite politicians and corporations.

As our plane descended upon the capital, security issues were at the forefront of my mind. Last year the late Rodney Bobiwash, activist and member of the Mississagi First Nation, introduced me to the brutal reality that Colombians face daily. He told me about his friend, Indigenous brother and activist Kimy Pernia Dominco of the Embara Katio region who was kidnapped and killed (disappeared) by armed paramilitaries for speaking out against a plan to dam his nation's main river.

Kimy's murder is far from unusual. One person in Colombia is killed every 15 minutes due to their political positions. To my discomfort, international solidarity delegations are not excluded from this grisly statistic. In 1999, two Native American leaders who were doing solidarity work with the U'wa Indigenous nation against Occidental Petroleum were also kidnapped and 'disappeared.'

After spending a day in the capital, I wondered what all the fuss was about.

The city of Bogota is fairly developed and boasts a modern bus system and even Moses Znaimer's City TV was everywhere. One could live and work in the capital and be practically oblivious to the horrors of the war and daily terror that many Colombian women face and shared with me.

The term "invisible struggle" has been coined to describe this situation and the many blatant and hidden paradoxes that exist within the context of this complex war. The peacefulness I discovered in the city was both comforting and disturbing.

In the two days that led up to the march, our delegation participated in an Afro-Columbian women's conference, as well as an Indigenous women's conference. Both days were filled with listening to testimonials of discrimination based on race, sex, poverty, and culture.

The Afro-Colombian and Indigenous women share many similarities within their struggles and point out that they have a lot still to learn and share with each other.

Attending the Indigenous women's conference was a highlight with representatives from many diverse nations and regions of Colombia in attendance. Once they heard I was Indigenous from Canada, they were eager to har about the Canadian experience and called on me to speak.

I offered them some of our general history and the host organization a gift of sweetgrass. The women then requested that I smudge the conference attendees. (Indigenous groups in Colombia also burn medicines in much the same way we do in Canada).

During the Conference of Indigenous Women, we met a group of women from the Putu Mayo region.

They live in rural mountain communities and are facing serious threats to both their lives and traditional lands. The threats are exacerbated because they are directed not only by one source but many. There are the FARC (the armed insurgency), the paramilitaries (armed government-sponsored forces formed to quash the FARC), and multi-national corporate interests.

Each group has interests in controlling the Indigenous Putu Mayo territories. To make matters worse, there's the most popular problem that comes to mind when one thinks about Colombia: the illicit coca and poppy crops that eventually produce cocaine and opium to North America's flourishing drug trade and dependency.

My Indigenous sisters tell me that the coca plant is actually a sacred medicine they have harvested since time immemorial. Traditionally, coca was never chemically altered for abuse in the form of cocaine. The women also recount the story of how they have been forced to grow the coca plant, not as a sacred medicine, but as a cash crop to be exported for the drug trade.

According to the women of Putu Mayo, this is because their traditional lands have been expropriated (stolen) and contaminated to such an extent that they can no longer live self-sufficiently as they once did and now depend on the money they make from growing and selling the crops.

The FARC formed in the 1960s as a response to the unequal wealth distribution and resulting poverty in the country. Unfortunately, like many insurgency movements that formed in Latin America during that era, the FARC is mestizo-led and fails to acknowlede the autonomies, culture, and diversity among the Indigenous and Afro-Colombian population. This led to the rejection of the FARC by many Indigenous groups.

The result is that Indigenous nations are not represented by the FARC or the Colombian government, and in a climate of violent insurgency and state repression, Indigenous communities are caught in the middle. While the government accuses Indigenous communities of growing the illicit coca plants to fund the FARC, the FARC accuses Indigenous communities of siding with the government and its paramilitaries because they refuse to use the FARC as a means for change.

International states (such as the U.S.) and multi-national corporations take advantage and agitate the situation by formulating and funding 'anti-drug' schemes such as Plan Colombia, which is a front to get access to what they really want: Colombia's energy resources. Sadly, as is the case with the Lubicon Cree in Alberta, the traditional land base known as the Putu Maya is the heartland of Colombia's rich resource base.

A delegation of Putu Mayo women tell me the final result of all the violence, poverty, and capitalist-driven foreign interests is that their communities are being fumigated by air with deadly pesticides. This fumigation program is part of Plan Colombia. When one reads between the lines and talks to the people directly affected by it, it is really a horrific plan to kill the land (and therefore the people) of the Putu Mayo region.

To the international community the justification of the fumigations appear valid. They will put an end to the illicit drug trade, and quash the insurgency and end violence in Colombia. However, this justification can be no further from the truth. Once the Indigenous people and their lands are dead, there will be no one to stop the corporations (many of which are Canadian) from reaping the final resources from the land.

The Putu Mayo women know exactly how they are going to face this problem. They refuse toabandon their land at any cost. Indigenous people the world over know that abandoning access to a land base also means extinction. As I heard the women speak, I felt like I was listening to their final plea for help. Perhaps in a year or two, Plan Colombia's fumigation program will be fully implemented and they will no longer be here to make this plea.