By Eduardo Garcia Aguilar
The military are everywhere in Tumaco , fishing port Colombian South Pacific, near the border with Ecuador, where he lived before the pre-Hispanic civilization of Tumaco (700 BC-1500 AD), which would probably have distant origins in the Olmec culture in Mexico. San Andrés Tumaco is inhabited half a millennium ago by a majority black population with serenity and joy that faces a conflict between guerrillas, drug traffickers, the army and the murderous paramilitary Aguilas Negras and stubble. A strong and muscular
Colombian gorilla enters the airport cafeteria guarded by three soldiers who brandish weapons looking to either side, while the military talks to his girlfriend and her lover makeup look before boarding the plane. All military and mercenaries have beautiful girlfriends. They are athletic, agile, safe, courteous. They are the new gods of a society at war, in a maritime zone and mangrove swamps filled from where the shipments of cocaine to other parts of the world. We are in the realm of the Rambos. In a Hollywood movie. We felt the new gold rush. Populate the business of buying and selling gold and jewelry.
ads are everywhere offering "great rewards" to those who report a "drug traffickers and terrorists." But the music of reggaeton, currulao, merengue and salsa still ringing from the speakers. At the inn Don Chucho Ricaurte all day sounds of salsa. And at many schools attended by thousands and thousands of students guided by the courageous teachers, good in Tumaco kings and leaders of the society in the midst of this war without end.
The U.S. and Colombian military, who have a huge naval base on the coast in the fight against "the drug trafficking and terrorism" of Plan Colombia are the kings of the city and the beautiful girls who admire and dream while they are and come the helicopters and planes sprayed to kill the coca leaf cultivation, devastating the countryside and forcing farmers to move into misery to other places. By the rivers that cross the paths down to often amounts of corpses.
"I do not understand how there are so many dead here if this is full of military. I do not know what they do. Where then is the work of intelligence to prevent, "says a woman, suggesting strange complicity between the military and paramilitaries. Since two weeks ago a quiet queen surprises locals. The showdowns in the street, the relentless action of the gunmen in the taverns is stopped for a moment, but everyone knows that sooner or later be resumed. The Grim Reaper is taking a short break after so much killing.
"It's amazing the look of the murderers when he suddenly shot side by side in a bar or on the street, "says one man. A master account when the guerrillas came to his village of barbecues, not far from there in search of supposed "frog" of the army. Entire population gathered in the square and killed five persons and other known ordered them to flee the pain of death. Someone wanted to see her teacher friend just shot, but the guerrillas were prevented. "Go away, is useless, and this is dead. Now the people will be calm. Toads have died, "said a guerrilla leader, tells the woman.
motorcycles are high and low displacement may occur hectic streets of this island city surrounded by neighborhoods filled with stilts. Streets bushy plants are thriving trade in clothing, appliances, supermarkets, bars, restaurants Pico Rico, sites of Dunkin Donuts, always crowded. There are internet sites, local phone, selling cellular minutes. Everyone uses cell phones. Rich and poor. Young and old.
are plentiful, the money moves with both hands, the party is permanent, yet poverty prevails. Some farmers are lining up in the Agrarian Bank on hold to give them the monthly grant of about $ 25 Families in Action program. But the money has not arrived. And starving to yell over the outsiders: "There is hunger in Tumaco!".
The girls slender bodies healthy tan and wearing tight across coquettishly eaten by male lust. The joy of the school appears everywhere. The war does not stop going to school, although many try to recruit the paramilitaries or the guerrillas to flee forever. In a park where soccer great Wellington left Ortiz, the boys play sports and girls emulating him their dance currulao.
El Morro on the beach, near the naval base, the roadblocks were occurring and the Hotel Barranquilla armed soldiers guard the tranquility of the U.S. envoys and advisers who stay there on that piece of beachfront paradise. The evening cloudy glimpse the red evening sun stripes. And the wind unusually cold due to climate changes caused by the phenomenon of "Girl" runs between the beach bars where loud sounds tropical music. To get there you pass through a military checkpoint that monitors this huge complex where they live thousands and thousands of soldiers. Reign
the military, come and UN vehicles and hotels preachers trade work, small businesses and local politics. But nothing equals the salsa oasis don Chucho Ricaurte. While some feared "paramilitaries" drink with stridency and arrogance and called vallenato, rumba old firm says: "No sir. Here we just gravy. Prohibited merengue and vallenato. But the murderers are in a good mood. They finish their beers and leave. -----
The military are everywhere in Tumaco , fishing port Colombian South Pacific, near the border with Ecuador, where he lived before the pre-Hispanic civilization of Tumaco (700 BC-1500 AD), which would probably have distant origins in the Olmec culture in Mexico. San Andrés Tumaco is inhabited half a millennium ago by a majority black population with serenity and joy that faces a conflict between guerrillas, drug traffickers, the army and the murderous paramilitary Aguilas Negras and stubble. A strong and muscular
Colombian gorilla enters the airport cafeteria guarded by three soldiers who brandish weapons looking to either side, while the military talks to his girlfriend and her lover makeup look before boarding the plane. All military and mercenaries have beautiful girlfriends. They are athletic, agile, safe, courteous. They are the new gods of a society at war, in a maritime zone and mangrove swamps filled from where the shipments of cocaine to other parts of the world. We are in the realm of the Rambos. In a Hollywood movie. We felt the new gold rush. Populate the business of buying and selling gold and jewelry.
ads are everywhere offering "great rewards" to those who report a "drug traffickers and terrorists." But the music of reggaeton, currulao, merengue and salsa still ringing from the speakers. At the inn Don Chucho Ricaurte all day sounds of salsa. And at many schools attended by thousands and thousands of students guided by the courageous teachers, good in Tumaco kings and leaders of the society in the midst of this war without end.
The U.S. and Colombian military, who have a huge naval base on the coast in the fight against "the drug trafficking and terrorism" of Plan Colombia are the kings of the city and the beautiful girls who admire and dream while they are and come the helicopters and planes sprayed to kill the coca leaf cultivation, devastating the countryside and forcing farmers to move into misery to other places. By the rivers that cross the paths down to often amounts of corpses.
"I do not understand how there are so many dead here if this is full of military. I do not know what they do. Where then is the work of intelligence to prevent, "says a woman, suggesting strange complicity between the military and paramilitaries. Since two weeks ago a quiet queen surprises locals. The showdowns in the street, the relentless action of the gunmen in the taverns is stopped for a moment, but everyone knows that sooner or later be resumed. The Grim Reaper is taking a short break after so much killing.
"It's amazing the look of the murderers when he suddenly shot side by side in a bar or on the street, "says one man. A master account when the guerrillas came to his village of barbecues, not far from there in search of supposed "frog" of the army. Entire population gathered in the square and killed five persons and other known ordered them to flee the pain of death. Someone wanted to see her teacher friend just shot, but the guerrillas were prevented. "Go away, is useless, and this is dead. Now the people will be calm. Toads have died, "said a guerrilla leader, tells the woman.
motorcycles are high and low displacement may occur hectic streets of this island city surrounded by neighborhoods filled with stilts. Streets bushy plants are thriving trade in clothing, appliances, supermarkets, bars, restaurants Pico Rico, sites of Dunkin Donuts, always crowded. There are internet sites, local phone, selling cellular minutes. Everyone uses cell phones. Rich and poor. Young and old.
are plentiful, the money moves with both hands, the party is permanent, yet poverty prevails. Some farmers are lining up in the Agrarian Bank on hold to give them the monthly grant of about $ 25 Families in Action program. But the money has not arrived. And starving to yell over the outsiders: "There is hunger in Tumaco!".
The girls slender bodies healthy tan and wearing tight across coquettishly eaten by male lust. The joy of the school appears everywhere. The war does not stop going to school, although many try to recruit the paramilitaries or the guerrillas to flee forever. In a park where soccer great Wellington left Ortiz, the boys play sports and girls emulating him their dance currulao.
El Morro on the beach, near the naval base, the roadblocks were occurring and the Hotel Barranquilla armed soldiers guard the tranquility of the U.S. envoys and advisers who stay there on that piece of beachfront paradise. The evening cloudy glimpse the red evening sun stripes. And the wind unusually cold due to climate changes caused by the phenomenon of "Girl" runs between the beach bars where loud sounds tropical music. To get there you pass through a military checkpoint that monitors this huge complex where they live thousands and thousands of soldiers. Reign
the military, come and UN vehicles and hotels preachers trade work, small businesses and local politics. But nothing equals the salsa oasis don Chucho Ricaurte. While some feared "paramilitaries" drink with stridency and arrogance and called vallenato, rumba old firm says: "No sir. Here we just gravy. Prohibited merengue and vallenato. But the murderers are in a good mood. They finish their beers and leave. -----
Published in the Daily Excelsior of Mexico. Sunday November 7, 2010.
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