Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
On Thursday night, we arrived to the plaza, arms sore from standing on the corner holding five giant banana breads and trying to wave down taxis. Once we finally got to the peace camp with our offerings, nobody would let us inside, even as they took the cakes. As we started to step away, the
The most powerful words published on this blog have never been mine. Rather, they belong to Colombians and express their desire for peace and justice in the midst of uncertainty and violence. From jail or in the midst of an armed shut-down, Colombian voices speak in defence of love, hope, solidarity, justice, unity and peace.
The Justapaz office is adorned with yellow butterflies. On cubicle dividers, windows, walls and doors, they were the first thing I noticed when I walked inside this week, along with quote from the ever famous Gabriel Garcia Marquez, “Tell Mauricio Babilonia to let loose the yellow butterflies in Macondo; the war is over.” My heart
The Mexican border is a line between Faith and the shackled dream. -Ray Gonzalez It was 11 o’clock at night and I was furious. You know, the kind of anger that only happens after fifteen hours of flights and airports on top of an exhausting week, with the anticipation of your own bed a mere
I have never felt so welcomed in a place as I did in Turmeque over the last MCC retreat. I have been been welcomed before all over the country, from Choco to Putumayo, but that welcome always seemed to include a sense of expectation, a reserve dependent upon my actions. Here, the only expectation was
We are entitled to our own Definitions of the worlds We have in common: Earth house (stay) Water well (carry) Fire stove (tend) Air song (sigh) Ether dream (die) And try out new combinations With key words Unlocking power: House on fire sing! Stove under water stay, Earth filled
Once a year, I spend a day travelling by jeep through the Montes de Maria. I hate it. I love the communities that we visit, the conversations and meetings, the spaces of reflection afterwards, the green beauty surrounding everything. It’s the transportation that gets to me. Days before leaving, my stomach starts clenching and I
I could hardly eat lunch as I frantically scribbled notes. Pedro has the most numbers in his head of anyone I have ever met and rattled them off so quickly I was glad of the Spanish to English interpretation, just for the extra seconds to catch up. The numbers added up to a pretty depressing
My walk to work this morning was normal. I passed the same dog walkers and shoeshine man as any other day. When I arrived, however, the office was giddy with excitement. Today was the day, long advocated and worked towards: a bilateral ceasefire, ending the active armed conflict between the government and the FARC, after
Facebook tells me that exactly three years ago today, and three days before I left Mampujan, Juana finally taught me some basic quilting. As she frantically packed to leave for another meeting in the morning, assuring me that she would say good-by, I stitched a tiny pink, naked looking figure into the corner of a
Anna L. Vogt 