A Colombian viewpoint on a Mexican movement

By Monina Morris

I travelled by bus almost seven thousand kilometres through the Mexican desert as part of the movement for Peace and Justice. A huge blue sky, broken in parts by rocky mountains, helped my thoughts flow. This is a movement that marches in the name of the 40,000 victims who have died during this war on drugs. For those sensitive human fibres hurting for the loss of their loved ones the movement was a way to mend the fabric of society and to prevent hatred growing. As a Colombian on this journey I asked myself, looking at the bloodbath that Colombia has suffered and still suffers. What have we done in the name of hope?

Knowing that the Movement for Peace and Justice was born in cultural circles and from the philosophy of Ivan Ilich, made me think that the closest Colombia has got to this type of movement is the non-violent marches held by the indigenous people, Nasa del Cauca. In 2008 one such march was held, but society as a whole did not take part because "they were not indigenous." The government condemned the demonstration. I also remember the supposed peace dialogues with the FARC in 2000, where organisations and citizens crossed the country by bus to condemn and propose solutions, but nothing resembled what is happening in Mexico; there was none of the energy and solidarity.

With each new Mexican town the victims' humble stories grew. It reminded me of the Colombian Commission for Historic Memory and I thought about a few images I have preserved. I thought how in my country entire villages have been massacred without compassion, I though dizzily about those deaths that had marked my generation and my life; political leaders such as Carlos Pizarro, Jaramillo Osa, Luis Carlos Galán. I thought about terrorism offered up to us by drug traffickers, about the abduction of indigenous leaders and about the bomb that went off around the corner from my house. I do not forget the massacres in the towns of San José de Apartadó, Trujillo, Bojaya and many more, too many more. And yet, despite being there, being face to face with the victims and being, I consider, a sensitive person, I could not summon up one tear. It is sad that violence becomes so natural to us.

As each day ended, Mexicans journalists and those from other countries working in the media got back on the bus, exhausted and turned off their tear-soaked cameras. But each day they got back out there to hear the victims: "Thank you for being here because it gives us strength to cope with the pain of losing our loved ones." This, for me, is what the caravan is about.

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