(From Jach) Entry #4 from Colombia A dog in the distance, with a solitary bark, broke the silence that had held me suspended for countless minutes as I sat on the porch of my cabin. It was Friday night of a holiday weekend. I had left the city late, and Id arrived at Mesón iLama-Calima after dark. Rather than unpacking, I just sat on the porch looking at the lake as lights from the hillsides of the distant shore streamed across the water: Lake Calima, a favorite regional resort area about two hours from Cali. How very different this place seems from the first time I was here nine years ago. Im different too. In 2005, I had come to Colombia with Enriques cousin and his partner. The three of us had visited Bogotá, Cartegena, and then Cali. On a one day adventure we had come to Lake Calima just to drive around. At that time, the countryside of Colombia was more dangerous than now. Kidnappings were less common but they were still possibilities. A common form of kidnapping was called “Fishnetting.” The guerrillas (the “revolutionaries” in the decades long “civil war”) would stop buses as they traveled through the rural areas. They would check the identities of everyone on the bus to see if they had “caught a fish” – someone of prominence or wealth. They would let the others go and take the “fish” seeking payment from the fishs family. The government would pay ransoms, but families would. It had been a profitable entrepreneurial business. As we were driving around the lake, suddenly a rope that had been laying across the road was lifted – a barrier – and we came to an immediate halt. My heart leapt and an explosion of panic rushed through my entire body. I had never felt terror before; I havent since. I couldnt breathe. Then reality kicked in. A group of kids had devised their own entrepreneurial enterprise. They would stop cars and come up with open hands, and with excitement and laughter, ask for a few pesos. Whether or not they received anything, they would lower the rope and the cars would pass. I found out this was not an uncommon practice in the Colombian countryside at the time. Poverty can spark unusual expressions of inventiveness and creativity. We gave them a few pesos. We were on our way and my suspended moment of terror ended. Tonight my suspended moment of reverie was broken by a lonely dogs bark. A different time, a different reality. I marvel about how the people of this country have slowly lifted Colombia from where it was and continue to lift it to somewhere new and to somewhere more. I ponder how I have lifted and changed in my life and wonder about my new somewheres that wait in my futures. Its late. Its time to sleep.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 19:06:20 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015