by Austin Galt
After the collapse of the peace talks in 2002, Ecuador and Venezuela became safe havens for the guerrillas as both countries had socialist presidents more politically aligned with the left-wing FARC than the right-wing Uribe. Top-ranking guerrilla members were captured in both countries, including Ricardo Palmera and Rodrigo Granda.
Known as ‘Simón Trinidad’, Ricardo Palmera was born into a wealthy family in Valledupar, the capital of Cesar state. He became a banker but soon grew disillusioned with the inequalities he saw in Colombian society which led him to join the FARC in 1987, but not before stealing some of the bank’s money and financial documents that would help him target people for extortion in the future. Simón Trinidad was captured in Ecuador in January 2004, and in December that same year he was extradited to the United States where he was sentenced to 60 years in prison.
Rodrigo Granda was a sort of diplomatic spokesperson for the FARC, who travelled around the world to peddle the guerrilla movement’s propaganda. While attending the Segundo Congreso Bolivariano or Second Bolivarian Congress held in December 2004 in the Venezuelan capital of Caracas, he was snatched by Colombian intelligence officials with support from some anti-Chávez members of Venezuela’s secret police. He was taken to the Colombian border city of Cúcuta where his capture was announced by Colombian authorities. The incident led to Venezuela briefly suspending bilateral relations. Granda was released in 2007 as part of a humanitarian exchange in the hope the FARC would release Ingrid Betancourt. No such luck.
It would take several more years of the guerrillas using Venezuela and Ecuador as safe havens before Colombia really began to protest.
Hugo Chávez became the president of Venezuela in 1999 and, with delusions of Bolivarian grandeur, ruled until his death from cancer in 2013. He survived a coup d’état attempt in 2002, while in 2004, a group of over 100 Colombian right-wing paramilitaries, dressed in Venezuelan military uniforms, were arrested at a farm just outside of Caracas as they prepared for a mission to assassinate Chávez.
He and Álvaro Uribe became bitter enemies over the years, culminating in 2010 at the Organization of American States with Uribe accusing Chávez of protecting FARC rebels in his country. Uribe provided exact coordinates and photos of a guerrilla camp in Venezuelan territory. Nonetheless, Chávez denied the allegations, cut off diplomatic ties and threatened war.
Rafael Correa, another left-wing socialist, was the president of Ecuador when the Colombian military bombarded a FARC camp just inside Ecuadorean territory killing over 20 rebels in 2008. One of those killed was FARC Secretariat member Raúl Reyes.
Reyes was the second-in-command and diplomatic head of the FARC, directing the Comisión Internacional (Cominter) or International Commission which was charged with securing international backing for the guerrilla movement. During the Pastrana peace talks in 1999, he met with New York Stock Exchange chairman, Richard Grasso, who had travelled to Colombia to talk about economic issues with the guerrillas. They were photographed embracing each other with the photo becoming known as the ‘Grasso abrazo’ or ‘Grasso hug’. Reyes was one of the six men I had seen on the billboard in Ipiales when I first entered the country in 2001. A cross could now be added to his face!
After the attack, which was codenamed Operation Phoenix, the Colombian military were able to recover several laptops and USB devices which revealed details of the FARC’s relationship with both the Venezuelan and Ecuadorian governments. The evidence gleaned from the laptops clearly implicated officials from both socialist governments of supporting the FARC.
A diplomatic crisis between the three countries ensued. Ecuador recalled its ambassador from Colombia and expelled the Colombian ambassador. Chávez, in solidarity with his socialist comrade Correa, closed its embassy in Colombia and expelled all Colombian diplomatic staff from Venezuela. Both Venezuela and Ecuador sent troops to their respective borders, while Chávez announced any more incursions would lead to war. Colombia tried to diffuse the situation by refusing to send its troops to the border regions.
Daniel Ortega, the Sandinista socialist president of Nicaragua which had its own territorial disputes with Colombia, also announced he was cutting diplomatic ties with Colombia. A week after the attack, a summit was organised in the Dominican Republic where all four leaders – Uribe, Chávez, Correa and Ortega – came together and shook hands as a show of goodwill. Diplomatic relations were restored but distrust clearly remained.
As I looked down to the jungle below from my window seat, I thought that I wouldn’t want the plane to crash-land there. If I survived the crash then I would have the FARC guerrillas to deal with, and that is exactly what had happened to four American citizens a couple of weeks earlier.
On 13 February 2003, a single-engine Cessna airplane carrying four Americans – Marc Gonsalves, Keith Stansell, Thomas Howes, and pilot Tom Janis – along with a Colombian military intelligence officer, Luis Cruz, crash-landed in southern Caquetá state. This was part of the old demilitarised zone and still effectively under FARC control. The four Americans were employees of Northrop Grumman which had a multi-million dollar contract with the Pentagon to fly surveillance missions as part of Plan Colombia. The missions were aimed at locating drug crops for eradication and also FARC guerrilla positions.
After experiencing engine failure, Tom Janis was able to land the plane in a small clearing within the jungle. All on board survived the crash but a FARC unit on patrol nearby took them prisoner. Gonzalez, Stansell and Howes were led away while Janis and Cruz were executed next to the plane wreckage. The three remaining Americans were marched deep into the jungle and held in captivity for the next five years.
My flight landed safely in Puerto Asís, a jungle city located on the Putumayo River, a tributary of the Amazon River. The plane took on board some new passengers, several of whom looked very fit and were most likely soldiers from the nearby Teteyé military base. The region produces petroleum and soldiers are often used to protect the infrastructure from rebel attacks.
The Teteyé military base would be the scene of its own attack by the FARC a couple of years later. A month before the operation, the guerrillas had distributed leaflets to the locals warning them of the pending attack and advising them to evacuate. The guerrillas’ fight was with the government and not the local population. The battle began just before dawn on 25 June 2005 when about 100 guerrillas, who had rowed up the river in canoes throughout the night, surprised the Colombian military by bombarding the base with gas-cylinder bombs, mortar grenades and other heavy weapons. The battle ended the next morning after the base received air support. In total, over 20 soldiers were killed with only a few guerrilla casualties.
The attack was regarded as a success by the FARC. It brought back memories of a couple of their greatest military successes – the taking of Miraflores and Mitú in 1998. I had seen video footage of these attacks and it always fascinated me that the guerrillas could be such a threat to Colombian society for so long.
Located on the Vaupés River in the south-eastern state of Guaviare, the town of Miraflores is the site of a big anti-narcotics police base as well as an army base. On 3 August 1998, about 1000 FARC rebels led by Secretariat member Mono Jojoy launched The Goodbye Offensive by attacking both facilities. It was to be one of the most violent and destructive attacks in the history of the FARC.
At 7 pm, as the sun went down, a large column of guerrillas advanced on the army base, while several more columns emerged from the jungle and entered the town where the anti-narcotics police base was located. At 10 pm, a full-scale assault on both bases was underway. The rebels launched gas-cylinder bombs, grenades, mortars and all other types of explosives the guerrillas had constructed.
The government forces were well outnumbered with the police base defended by only 70 police, while the army base contained just over 100 soldiers. After 10 hours of withering attacks, four police helicopters arrived in support but had to turn around shortly after due to low fuel and bad weather. Late the following aft
ernoon, the police and army had run out of ammunition and were completely isolated. Some were able to escape and hide in the jungle while the rest awaited their fate at the hands of the guerrillas.
The body count stood at over a dozen soldiers and policemen dead while more than 120 were captured and taken prisoner. This was the most prisoners ever taken by the FARC in a single operation. It was a hard blow to the government. Many hostages were released during the peace talks with the Pastrana government; however several were held in captivity in the jungle for over a decade.
The FARC, buoyed by this success, followed up a couple of months later with an even more daring raid on the town of Mitú, the capital of Vaupés state, located further up the Vaupés River in the Amazon basin and not far from the Brazilian border. It has only a small population of about 15,000 inhabitants. On 1 November 1998, about 1500 FARC rebels, led once again by Mono Jojoy, launched the assault codenamed Operation Marquetalia in reference to the original communist enclave in the 1960s that was eventually invaded by the Colombian army and which helped give birth to the FARC.
The guerrillas began their offensive just before 5 am, having surrounded the town the previous night. About 500 rebels entered the town initially with the other 1000 or so rebels hanging back. The government forces were completely outnumbered with only 120 policemen to defend the town. The attack was ferocious with the FARC pounding the police station and the surrounding buildings with gunfire, hand grenades, grenade launchers, mortars and gas-cylinder bombs. After 12 hours of intense fighting, the government forces were done. In total, over 30 policemen and soldiers were killed while another 61 were taken prisoner. The rest had managed to flee, hiding among the population. The capital of Vaupés state was now totally under the control of the FARC guerrillas.
The Colombian military began an operation to retake the town later that night, dropping over a hundred commandos into the jungle not far from the town. They then advanced under the cover of darkness. By the following afternoon, the commandos had reached the outskirts of the town when they were spotted by the rebels. The guerrillas surrounded the troops and began attacking them with machine-gun fire, fragmentation grenades and gas-cylinder bombs. It was too much. With the guerrillas advancing upon them, the commandos were forced to pull back. They had already lost over 14 men with another dozen injured. It was turning into a suicide mission.
The Colombian military sent in another wave of support this time with over 600 soldiers who entrenched themselves and waited for further aerial support. A squadron of fighter jets arrived and bombarded guerrilla positions. Video footage taken by the FARC showed the rebels firing on the planes with heavy weaponry, but it was not enough. Under heavy attack, the guerrillas began retreating, leaving the town by midday on 3 November using hostages as human shields.
The army wasn’t able to regain total control of the town until the following morning on 4 November. The FARC had occupied a Colombian state capital for an incredible 72 hours. At least 100 rebels had been killed but the FARC had shown the country just how powerful it could be. Pastrana, who had now taken office, declared the demilitarised zone a week later and shortly after commenced peace talks with the guerrillas.
My plane flew over the old demilitarised zone and landed in Neiva where several more passengers embarked. I looked at them all closely. This was the airport where the guerrillas had hijacked the plane leading to the end of the peace talks and it stewed in my mind.
Thankfully, there was no such problem that day, and the plane made its way safely to Bogotá. Flying into the country’s capital from the south, I was able to view the massive and stunning high Andean plateau. Colombia may have had a violent history but its natural beauty remained firmly intact.
12
MORENA
I settled into life in Bogotá and began teaching most days of the week. The hours were not ideal, though, as I had to fit into the schedule of the students who all had full-time jobs. The classes were early in the morning before work, lunchtime and early evening after work.
Initially, several students had difficulty understanding my Australian accent. Teaching actually helped to improve my own English as I made a conscious effort to speak more clearly. The classes were held in offices in the north of the city and I used to pass by the El Nogal building every day. I watched the clean-up operation become a reconstruction effort. It was a daily reminder of the danger faced by all those living and working in the city.
I was enjoying living in La Candelaria despite the showers not having much hot water. The mornings were very cold and if you weren’t one of the first to have a shower it was likely that the hot water would have run out. I learnt to wash myself very quickly and efficiently in the freezing water!
I cooked myself the occasional simple meal such as pasta but did most of my eating at local restaurants which were all fairly cheap. As I headed out one evening, I was told I had to stay inside.
‘Why?’ I asked. It was the Noche Sin Hombres or Night Without Men. This was an initiative implemented by the city’s mayor which allowed the women to go out while the men stayed at home and looked after the children and did the chores. I fell into line and stayed at home that night.
Women are the rock in Colombian families and with the country’s macho culture they are often expected to maintain the household and put the wishes of the husband before their own. This is especially so in rural regions, but it is changing in urban centres as women enter the workforce in greater numbers and occupy more prominent positions in society.
My other housemates included an international student doing a postgraduate course, a non-governmental organisation (NGO) volunteer, another English teacher and a couple of travellers who were just content to stay in the city for a few months. We all got along well and often socialised together.
An occasional guest to the house was Thomas McFadden who was the subject of the book Marching Powder written by my fellow countryman Rusty Young. I knew Rusty, having both grown up in the same Sydney suburb, and he was briefly in Bogotá upon my return. Hailing from Tanzania, Thomas had been imprisoned in a Bolivian jail for cocaine smuggling but had fled to Colombia after being granted parole. He was an affable fellow who was easy to like and he would join us in the house sometimes for beers and good times.
On one occasion Thomas wanted to go clubbing up north in the zona rosa and he asked me to come along, which I did. The best club in the area was Gótica where the top DJs played; it was frequented by the showbiz and fashion crowd as well as a certain dark element. I was always careful around the girls there as, while one might smile at you, she was just as likely to have a big gangster boyfriend standing over at the bar keeping an eye on her.
Next up, Thomas wanted to go to a club in Chapinero about 30 blocks to the south. Upon arrival we were greeted by the club’s owner as Thomas had been in jail in Bolivia with his brother, also there for drug smuggling. As I looked around the club I was relatively shocked. Patrons were openly doing lines of cocaine at their tables. That may sound normal for Colombia but I can assure you it is not. This was, and has been ever since, the only establishment where I have seen such behaviour tolerated. This was pure gangster territory.
Thomas suggested I pay one of the club bouncers to act as my own personal bodyguard as I clearly stood out. Ok, then. A bunch of gun-slinging gangsters on cocaine was a volatile mix and apparently someone was shot and killed inside the club a couple of weeks earlier. Having given the bouncer 50,000 pesos or US$25, he would stand beside our booth for the next hour or so until we left. I wouldn’t say I was completely at ease but I just went with the flow.
Popular dance music from the 1990s played but no one ever really took to the dancefloor. It wasn’t that type of place. Customers mostly remained huddled at their own tables. And as the good times rolled, a black fellow approached our table.
‘Qué tal amigo? Te invito a nuestra mesa.’ What’s up friend? I invite you to our table.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was happy
where I was but I also didn’t wish to appear rude. Thomas stepped in and asked him where he was from.
‘Chocó,’ he replied, which is a state bordering both the Pacific and Atlantic coasts and includes the Darién Gap. Its population is mostly of African descent and it has one of the lowest standards of living in Colombia. Chocó is also a major exit point for Colombian cocaine and many of its poor inhabitants have joined criminal groups, whether they are left-wing guerrillas, right-wing paramilitaries or just straight-up drug-trafficking outfits.
This fellow standing by our table certainly didn’t seem poor. On the contrary, he was dressed to the nines in fashionable clothing and sported a trendy Kangol brand beret. Schmick.
Thomas replied politely that I was fine where I was.
I replied, ‘Gracias.’ Thanks.
Thomas reckoned he and his crew were narcos who perhaps thought I was one too, and that a new international business connection could be made once I’d sampled some of their product. It was a night I will never forget.
Another unforgettable night took place at the casa in La Candelaria about a month later – Thomas’s farewell party. It was a night of debauchery that will go down in the annals of history for all those ex-pats in Bogotá during that time. Thomas was leaving Colombia and many others, mostly foreigners, came to say goodbye, while some travellers from the main Platypus hostel also got wind of the party and turned up. Beer, spirits and plenty of the country’s magic powder was consumed. Plenty was spilled too. Ha! Who cares? Not us. Everything was so cheap it just didn’t matter. It was a rollicking good time – a true white night.
*
While I enjoyed living where I was, I felt I needed to immerse myself more in typical Bogotá life which meant moving into another house a bit further north outside of the tourist area of La Candelaria. La Macarena is a little suburb about 20 blocks north of La Candelaria and is known for its bohemian charm and quaint restaurants serving quality cuisine, although it was also considered a bit dangerous. There is a comuna or slum a few blocks away so one needed to be careful about which direction was taken, especially at night, as robberies were common. There is also a business district located close by and workers frequent the area during lunchtime.