As we drove into the town, we had to stop several times to ask for directions for the church. Finally we pulled off the main highway (scraping the bottom of the van as we did so) onto a dirt path. When we got to the church we heard the exuberant voices of praying. We were ushered to the front where we were welcomed by the church leaders. They sang some songs, asked us for words of welcome and then we went to the yard next to the church for lunch.
This was another community of displaced Afro-Colombians. On March 11, 2000, the people from this community were told that they would be killed if they did not leave before the following day. It seems that no one was killed in this community. While the men were all taken away to a location over the mountains nearby, they were all let go. Men from other villages in the region were not so fortunate. One of the major massacres of the region had happened a few weeks earlier.
The community relocated to where they are now, but just like the Remanso de Paz Church we met with the previous day, they dream of going back to their homes. “Once our homes smelled of coffee and coconut rice; now they smell of desolation.” On our drive to Marialabaza, we had seen what this desolation looked like. On the drive from Sincelejo we pulled off the highway into a village. Many of the houses were without doors, windows and roofs. This was the community where the people from the Remanso de Paz Church lived. Now, about eight years later a few families have moved back, but it still does not feel safe for many. And as we were told on Friday night, the people want to return with dignity and with reconciliation.
How does one help a community heal after being displaced? One of the things that we have heard over and over is that they need to talk about it the tragedy in order to move on. Terri and Charlie Geyser are MCC workers in Sincelejo. We had breakfast with them at their small apartment. Terri talked about how she as a social worker use to believe that one had to be in a safe place before trauma healing could begin. Now, she has seen that it can begin before that. She worked with the community to tell their story through artwork. After lunch in Marialabaza, we heard about all the things that the community is doing to strengthen and support their Afro-Colombian heritage. They are working keeping alive or rediscovering their traditions. Then they showed us the wall hanging that they had produced with the help of Terri Geyser. After they described the wall hanging, they asked if there were any questions. After we were finished we sat quietly. Then the woman who was explaining the situation said, “You all look very sad, but we are not sad.”
It seemed to me like this a community that was looking to the future. They talked about peace building, to going back to being simple farmers and to building a better Colombia. That is the sort of thing that we have heard often in the last few days in this region that was and continues to be hit by violence and displacement. The word hope is on everyone's lips.
After the being blessed by the elders of the community and exchanging words of thanks, we got into the van and bumped down the road to Cartagena. We had dinner together on a balcony of a former governor’s mansion that was built in the 1700s that overlooked a plaza. A cool breeze off the Caribbean Sea kept us relatively comfortable as we talked about the day. The second stage of our trip—the stage of visiting churches at the Caribbean coastal area—was over. Next is rest and then planning meetings for our program in our hotel by the sea.
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