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/COLOMBIA:
Neutrality Not an
Option for Indigenous Community
Constanza Vieira
TORIBIO, Colombia, (IPS) -
”I have cried these last few
days more than I had cried in my
entire life,” Braulio Mendoza
told IPS, sitting amidst the
rubble of what was once his
home.
His house and two shops in the
Colombian town of Toribío were
destroyed in a guerrilla attack
two weeks ago.
The town is located in the
southwestern department
(province) of Cauca, in an area
where the population is mainly
indigenous.
It was 5:00 PM and Mendoza, a
57-year-old shopkeeper, was
drinking ”chicha” liquor with
three other men. ”All I have
left are my friends, who helped
me knock down the few bits that
were left standing,” he said.
Pointing to the Coca Cola bottle
containing the homemade
fermented corn liquor, he said
”this is the only thing that
brings some consolation. For a
little while at least.”
Mendoza's 12-room house, set on
a 10 X 35 metre-lot, was home to
the shopkeeper and his wife,
their two grown sons, and the
sons' wives and children, none
of whom were hurt, fortunately.
Eighteen years ago, Mendoza
opened a clothing shop and a
shoe store in the front of the
house, which supported all three
families.
But both his home and businesses
were destroyed on Apr. 14, when
the Revolutionary Armed Forces
of Colombia (FARC) opened fire
on the town with assault rifles,
machine guns and homemade gas
cylinder bombs fired by
improvised missile launchers.
FARC, Colombia's largest rebel
group, which has been fighting
since 1964, gave the local
residents prior warning of the
attack, although without
providing a specific date.
Although many evacuated, others
stayed behind.
The target of the assault was
the police station.
FARC's gas cylinder bombs can
tear apart an armoured vehicle,
and the shock wave can knock
down nearby houses, which in
this indigenous region are
mainly made of ”bahareque”:
bamboo frames, walls made of an
earth and fibrous mixture, and
mud tile covering.
The insurgent offensive was met
by heavy artillery fire and
grenades from the police, who
had returned to Toribío in
November 2003.
For years, the state had no
presence in many villages and
towns in war-torn Colombia, like
Toribío.
Since the police station was
built, the town's 3,000
residents have become accustomed
to near-daily attacks by the
rebels.
But two weeks ago, they realised
that things were more serious
when they saw the guerrillas
coming down from the nearby
mountains around two hours after
the first explosion.
Over half of the population fled
to the ”permanent assembly”
centres -- the name given by the
local Nasa indigenous people to
the shelters they set up two
years ago for use in the event
of an escalation of the armed
conflict in the area.
”The rest of us stayed nearby,
watching as the guerrillas
passed by with their cylinder
bombs and launched them, because
what else could we do,” Nasa
indigenous leader Arquimedes
Vitonás, the mayor of Toribío,
told IPS with resignation.
Mendoza, meanwhile, said ”Look,
those are homeless children, and
they're my grandchildren,”
pointing to four youngsters
between the ages of six and
eight who were playing in front
of a nearby building, which was
also partially destroyed.
Near the children lay the
remains of a counter, a twisted
metal table, and parts of broken
beds. A sign lying on the ground
read ”Mendoza Shoes”.
Behind Mendoza's house were the
charred remains of what was once
a large fruit tree. Nine days
after the assault, the smell of
burnt wood still lingered.
But the police bunker stood
intact, less than 50 metres
away.
During the assault, the
guerrillas entered the houses of
local residents to shoot at the
police from inside.
But besides the bunker, the
police had built around 40
sandbag barricades alongside
local houses, in preparation for
an attack.
The day after the Apr. 14
assault, right-wing President
Alvaro Uribe visited Toribío,
where he was jeered by many of
the local residents.
Some of the locals said Uribe's
visit triggered the second
attack by the rebels, on Apr.
16, as a show of strength.
Vitonás reported that in the two
incidents, one child and three
police officers were killed, 27
civilians and five police were
injured, 18 homes were
completely destroyed, and 206
sustained such severe damage
that they will have to be
demolished.
In addition, a patient in the
hospital was injured by a bullet
that went through the roof,
while several other bullets hit
patients' beds without causing
any damages, said the mayor.
”We also have to fix up the
school, because (the guerrillas)
used it to shoot from,” he
added.
The people that IPS talked to in
Toribío said the FARC combatants
took shelter behind houses, the
school and the hospital, but
this did not keep the police
from shooting at these
buildings, which are protected
by international humanitarian
law.
The nine-year-old boy who died
was killed by a shot to the
forehead, which was aimed at a
police barricade on the corner,
20 metres away.
Along with seven other children
and six adults, the boy had
taken refuge in a house with a
concrete roof, where he was
huddling in a corner.
Local authorities said that
since the police returned to the
town in late 2003, they had
asked Uribe, both in person and
by letter, to remove both the
police and army troops from the
area, in order to allow the Nasa
people and their territory to
remain neutral.
They said they had also told
FARC, through every means
possible, that they wished to
remain neutral in the civil war.
In the statement that the local
authorities released Apr. 16,
they said the rebel attack
targeted the police, who ”have
taken refuge in the cultural
centre in the park in downtown
Toribío,” one of the buildings
that was destroyed.
”The army and police have been
brought in here to draw the
civilian population into the
conflict,” they maintained.
They also complained that
insurgents shot at police who
were hiding between the houses
and among the people, who are
living in their ”ancestral”
territory, ”and the result is
destruction, death and terror.”
But among the people of Toribío
there is no consensus as to
whether the police should leave.
In Mendoza's view, ”the law is
the law.”
”The law respects us more,” said
one of his friends who helped
clean up the rubble of his
house.
According to Mendoza and his
friend, the Nasa indigenous
guard, a group of civilians who
carry nothing more than
decorated staffs as a symbol of
their authority, does not
guarantee safety in the town and
only patrols the surrounding
indigenous reserves.
For that reason, said the two
men, they want the police to
stay.
Vitonás said many people in the
town were not happy that the
police built barricades next to
houses, because of the threat
that posed to the local
residents. But he said they have
not directly complained about
the situation.
The problem, he explained, is
that ”removal of the barricades
would mean the police would have
to be confined to the bunker, or
would become direct targets as
they stand guard.”
According to the mayor, most of
the townspeople say ”it would be
better if there were no police,
but there has to be someone
standing guard, because this
territory is not part of the
reserve,” where the indigenous
guard operates.
He told IPS that ”The police are
here to protect the Agrarian
Bank, because that's where the
money is, and it can be robbed
by the guerrillas. And to guard
the city hall, which could also
become a target.
”Basically for those two things,
because I don't know how true it
is that the police protect the
local population. It's more like
the people take care of the
police here,” Vitonás argued.
”If the guerrillas wanted to,
right at this moment they could
shoot cylinder bombs at us from
a rocket launcher two or three
kilometres away. But we believe
the rebels won't shoot at the
town any more,” he added.
By last Saturday, the fighting
had moved on to nearby rural
areas, and on Tuesday, Nasa
Indians from the surrounding
region came to Toribío to help
their fellow community members
begin to rebuild.
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