Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
The community of El Garzal, in the south of Colombia’s Bolívar province, is one of resistance. Not only are community members refusing to leave their land due to armed threats, they have also never give in to pressure to cultivate coca. This history, along with the community’s continued nonviolent struggle for their land, is emblematic
I caused a motorcycle accident last weekend. At that point, it felt pretty normal. I had been back on the coast for four days, officially to co-facilitate a workshop on documentation and political advocacy, and unofficially to remember what I had forgotten about life on the Caribbean. I started to feel at home as soon
The first time Jhonatan David Vargas was illegally recruited by the Colombian national army and detained at a military base, he knew nothing about his rights to conscientious objection. What he did know, however, was that he did not want to learn how to kill. A active churchgoer in his home town of Barrancabermeja, Jhonatan
I was in Canada in June for a whirlwind of wedding and family love. I was there for the longest day, the Summer Solstice. People in my Bogota office still remark with wonder whenever I mention my trip home that: “When Anna was there, day lasted all night long.” As fall begins in the north
Over the last few years, I have grown cynical. I hear promises and assume they will be broken. I go to meetings and marches and remain unmoved. I have little faith that big change will take place. It is easy, in the day to day slog of imprisonments, impunity, broken promises and violence, to forget
A year ago, I officially moved to the city and started my new job. A year ago, Jorge Montes was arrested. A year ago, I met Jhonatan Vargas on a quick work trip to Barrancabermeja. A year ago, I visited the Canadian embassy and wrote letters to try to resolve our visa situation. Many things
I may be close to admitting that I have a problem. This morning, I choose the carrot juice over the orange from the street vender on my way to work. The reason had nothing to do with vitamin C content and everything to do with combination. Simply, the brilliant colour of the carrot matched my
I was frantically wiping dust off plastic chairs when Juana Alicia called me over to photograph “something historic”. I did not know that Uber Banquez, alias “Juancho Dique” was going to be in Mampujan until he stepped out of the penitentiary van, handcuffed and escorted by police. Tensions were high: for the first time the
“Even the dogs are fatter here!” exclaimed a member of a delegation over the weekend as we walked down the Parkway, my neighbourhood. We had just returned from visiting a couple of projects in Soacha, a municipality to the south of the city. Skinny, flea-covered dogs run wild everywhere in a community made up mainly of
Español Over the weekend on team retreat, a few of us visited the second highest waterfall in Colombia, led by Alex, a local guide. As we grew closer to the sound of rushing water, we chatted about life: what we were doing in Colombia, what our favourite tv shows were (Alex loves Friends), our thoughts
Anna L. Vogt 