Viva la Música

Somehow, as I sit here listening to Bing Crosby croon about snow (yes, I am listening to Christmas music in the tropical heat), I realize that I have yet to really write about music in Colombia. A gross over-sight, I apologize, because never has music defined a place more for me than in Colombia.

Music pumps out of cars and buses, blasts from speakers in peoples’ homes, spills into neighborhoods from clubs, and emits – a bit muffled from cell phones or small portable speakers (with an USB jack) - in peoples’ hands as they walk down the street. And Colombians as a group love to randomly break into a few lines of a song, whether they are cooking, working, or sitting with you having a conversation.

Like its different regions, ethnicities, and cultures within the country, music defines and celebrates diversity in Colombia.

So a little on the most popular genres and artists in and from Colombia, which no matter how different they are, must be played at an incredibly loud volume (see my post on picos in Santa And for more on our loud, outdoor dance parties).

Let’s get Shakira out of the way first. Yes, Shakira is from Colombia and definitely the most famous and successful Colombian musician. Some of her songs are popular here, especially at discotectas, but in many ways she is more of an international pop sensation than a hit in Colombian anymore. I have heard “Waka Waka” in pretty much every town I have visited though.

Almost as successful, especially in Latin America, is Juanes, who is more popular than Shakira in Colombia, though definitely focused more in the interior. Like climate, culture, food and more, music is defined along interior/coastal lines quite a bit. Newer pop sensations Fonseca or Fanny Lou are almost never heard on the coast unless you’re in a supermarket chain or swankier store. Other Latin pop and rock stars and songs from Puerto Rico, Argentina, the Dominican Republic and the U.S. (to pick a random list) are popular in Colombia and I should note that both Shakira and Juanes (though especially the latter) are doing great humanitarian work in Colombia as well.

But on the coast, and especially in Santa Ana, two very specific types of music are dominant: champeta and vallenato, but of which I have mentioned in various other blog posts but have failed to properly define or explain.

Champeta is more African than anything, and is the name for both the music and dance that was born of the poorest of Afro-Colombian neighborhoods in and around Cartagena (hence why it is so popular in Santa Ana). Wikipedia (yes, there is a Wikipedia entry on all of these types of music if you want to learn more) calls champeta both a “cultural phenomenon and musical genre.” Very true. Because champeta is only popular within this small culture in Colombia, it can become an identity. Everyone has to like champeta in Santa Ana. Some of it is very distinctly Colombian (listen to popular artist Lilibeth’s “No Vuelves Más” here, while others are so unchanged from the origins of the music in West Africa, that I feel like I’ve got to be in Tanzania not Colombia.

If champeta is the music of Afro-Colombians on the coast, the most wide-spread costal music is vallenato. Vallenato is a mix between African and European music to create this folk music from the northern coast (especially Santa Marta and Riohacha). Guitars and sometimes flutes are popular, but traditionally must be accompanied by a guacharaca (like a guiro), an accordion, and a small drum called la caja vallenata. Vallenato bands are hard to miss in the coastal vallenato hats which if you ever visit a Colombian Caribbean town, are becoming popular for tourists as well. Its repetitive rhythms constantly blast out of homes and businesses in Santa Ana, but also shops and even hotels in the bigger cities. Unlike champeta, which is still looked down upon by the elite and middle class, the folk music of vallenato, is much more accepted along the whole coast. For a taste of vallenato click here: the problem is the best vallenato was made in trhe 1960s and 70s, so we hear a lot of the same stuff. Grammy-award winner Carlos Vives is famous for combining vallenato with pop and other Latin rhythms (characterized in songs such as “El Rock de Mi Pueblo”) which I also like but I have yet to hear in Santa Ana…

I am going to contradict myself a little here. There is one type of music popular in every corner of Colombia: salsa. First introduced in the 1960s, it has been adopted to be one of Colombia’s most popular dances and radio favorites. Cali, in the southwest interior, is the undisputed salsa capital of Colombia, but clubs, radio stations, bars, and homes from the Guajira to the Amazon blast it and dance to it and nowadays, both the dance and the music have very specific Colombian styles. Certainly one of the most popular and famous salsero was Joe Arroyo, a Afro-Colombian from Barranquilla/Cartagena whose famed continued from the 1970s until his recent death this year. The hit “La Rebellion” is the unofficial anthem of Cartagena, that is for sure.

It is rarely actually Colombian in itself, but reggaeton is popular through Colombia as well. My students in Santa Ana might say their favorite music is champeta (“of course, teacher!”) but the favorite artist of many is actually Danny Yankee. Fellow Puerto Rican Don Omar’s hits can be heard in most clubs as well, and during those picos, reggaeton songs are almost always mixed in with champeta for a little variety in the loud, outdoor dance parties.

And then there is cumbia, which is the more traditional and complicated Colombian rhythm that has actually influenced other international music more than any other. Then there is the Spanish-influenced Andean music, the joropo from Los Llanos (the eastern plains in Colombia) and more. Colombians listen to reggae, hip-hop, electronica, U.S. pop, and on and on.

But you never really know what you’re going to get. I was listening to the ‘tropicana’ radio station here and when the morning news came on, it was read with “Eye of the Tiger” pumping out in the background. Dramatic to say in the least. Somehow the supermarket chain Olympica has its own radio station so that in the middle of some song, the music is drown out by a recorded announce shouting “Ohhhhh…..LIMPICA!!!” And then the song resumes. All radio stations and CDs seem to record from this stration so "Ohhhh.....LIMPICA" is everywhere. Has become normal for all music now.

But music, interrupted or not, is always everywhere. When the power goes off in town it gets almost eerily quiet. The contrast is those Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays when I am trying to work, watch a movie or sleep at night and from across the field, through my room walls, the music is so loud that I would have turned it down if I had control. How loud it is for those who sit next to the speakers, trying to shout to be heard, I know and try to avoid. How my students aren’t deaf by the time they graduate from high school, I’ll never know.

But it will be something I miss. So as Elvis’ ‘Blue Christmas’ fights the strains of a vallenato accordion from across the town, I know that a lack of competing speakers is something that will take a bit to adjust back too. I’ve stocked up on some Joe Arroyo salsa, some Lilibeth champeta, some Diomedes Diaz vallenato and some Daddy Yankee reggaeton for when I go back. And sorry neighbors, but there is going to be some days where I blast the stuff through the walls.

The music is one part of Colombia I can carry back with me in my suitcase and experience even in the States. And it is such an integral part of the culture in every part of this country, it’ll be almost like being back. I’ll just be missing the interruptions of “Ohhhhh…LIMPICA!” interrupting the variety of pop and folk songs Colombia offers.

Barú, Isla Barú

I live on Isla Barú, a long thin peninsula jutting into the Caribbean, only an island because of the 16th Century canal built now separating the mainland and town of Pasacaballos from the island.

I like to think I have been pretty good at exploring my surroundings. I have walked nearly all the streets in my town of Santa Ana one time or another. I have explored tree-lined lanes to Barbacoas Bay on one side, and the azure waters of Playa Blanca on the other. I enjoy frequent walks down road to the Decameron Resort, passing farms and wetlands.

But truth is, in one direction I simply speed past the homes and farms on the way to the ferry and the road to Cartagena. In the other direction, I have once walked all the way to Playa Blanca, but never gone past that point in the road.

On the way to the port and ferry, I always pass the town of Ararca, maybe a third of the size of Santa Ana, yet I have yet to go explore it. It’s got the same basic amenities that Santa Ana does, though its school only goes through 9th grade, so its 10th and 11th graders get bussed the 8ish minutes to Santa Ana every morning.

On the southern tip of the island, is the actual town Barú, of which I knew little. No one last year had ever made it down there.

So this weekend, fellow volunteer TL and I finally got around to heading past the large sign for Playa Blanca, paying out for an expensive motorcycle ride to the end of the island.

The one main road stretching across the island is hard-packed dirt, with some spots that can get muddy after a rain, plus ‘The Puddle,” but for the most part you can safely speed down the dusty track without problems.

The road after Playa Blanca, heading south to the actually town of Barú came in four different models: dirt, tarred, beach, and mud.

For the first five or ten minutes, the landscape and road looked much like the road I had gotten to know so well after 11 months on living on the island. Open forests with lush green vines climbing up trees varied with a few houses and farms, banana trees, cows, and the occasional crop of corn or pineapples flashing by.

And then suddenly something unexpected happened. The road was tarred and turned into asphalt for maybe another 5 minutes.

Road work is always happening on the island and there is a big debate whether to pave the road in Santa Ana (pluses include the fact you wouldn’t keep having to bring in more dirt and rocks every month or so and that buses and cars wouldn’t get stuck any more, while minuses include that the runoff might flood nearby streets and that asphalt is innumerably hotter to walk on in bare feet than dirt). Apparently someone had won the debate here, probably thanks to a small resort called Punta Iguanas just off this road.

The new pavement did not last for long. We joined the dirt again, passing open marshes and little traffic. We forded a small stream emptying into the ocean and suddenly the road ended at the ocean.

Ended might be too strong of a word. If you were in a car any larger than a small Jeep, time to turn around, but deep tire imprints in the sand revealed that it was passable for motorcycles.

TL and I got off our motorcycles so our drivers could more easily navigate the soft sand, and enjoyed a 10 minute stroll along the thin beach, pelicans staring at us as we went by, the large Decameron Resort visible in the distance. It was clear that the road was not always reduced to the edge of the beach. A telephone pole stuck out of the water maybe 20 feet into the surf; obviously the waves and sand had crept up on the road and mangroves until it resulted in the nearly-impassable strip of sand today.

A bit sandy, we got back on our motos to continue along the road, which had miraculously reappeared.

The route was now much narrower, just enough for one car to pass – if we had seen any cars. A good surface with a few deep puddles was soon replaced by a muddier, wooded lane. The ocean wasn’t too far off on our right, and quite a few hotels and farms sported tall walls and gates among the trees. On the left was forest. When I asked my moto driver what there was over in that direction, he responded “Sí, solomente selva.” Only jungle. An earlier contention that ocelots roamed the island didn’t seem so strange now as we passed in the shade under the trees.

Because of the shade, this part of the road was much muddier. Our drivers continuously had to balance themselves with their feet as we slipped and sometimes slid along the bumpy tract (this, consequently is why the ride is so expensive).

For the most part, it was a very fun ride, and I was able to enjoy the new scenery and bumping along with the warm breeze in my face is something I am going to miss.

For the most part, we navigated the mud and mayhem quite well. After all, our moto drivers do this for a living (we were with Lorenzo, the husband of one of the cooks at Barbacoas, and Wolfrido, his friend).

So as we entered a muddier section of the road, I wasn't too worried, reached back to grab onto the backside on the moto and we slowly made our way around one puddle, then into another. It didn't seem too deep - and after all we had already been in some deep ones without incident that day.

You know where this is going...

We hit the puddle going maybe 1 mile and hour, slipped a bit, then fell over completely in what ended up being calf-deep mud.

The good news is that we fell to the left, avoiding possible burns by falling to the right and the muffler. The bad news was that the mud was a lot deeper on the left. The good news was that we were able to finally push off the moto and steady ourselves enough in the slippery mud. The bad news was that I took so long to steady myself that by the time I tried to move out of this suctiony mud pot worthy of Yellowstone National Park, my right foot was completely stuck. Try as I might to pull it free, my right leg wasn’t going anywhere. Good news was that others were around. Another lady coming by the same time and TL - both who had seen us go down and had decided to walk around the mud trap - finally held out their hands and pulled me free.

My leg successfully removed itself with a satisfying squelch. My trustworthy Chaco sandal, which I had had strapped on, did not. So there I stood, one shoe on, one foot bare, my left side covered in mud, my right leg darkened up to my knee, with my arm elbow deep in the mud feeling around for the lost shoe. I finally did find it, and after a decent amount of tugging, extricated my sandal, which was now a greyish-brown shapeless blob.

Of course, where there is mud, there is water, and the driver and I cleaned off in a small trickle of a stream, returning my leg to its gringa white, and my sandal (more or less) to its original black color. A few scraps on my leg as a testament to my little adventure, but otherwise unscathed.

I knew it I would have been hard-pressed to spent a whole year taking motos without have any sort of accident, so as they go, I'll take the slow fall into the mud.

We finally got on our way again, and ten minutes later, we on another muddy path, passing houses on the outskirts of Barú. Down a tiny hill and it opened up to what was their town square/sports field, which was a mess of slippery green, brown and gray mud. We decided to get off the motos, skirting the mud before back on and headed into town.

Barú is smaller than Santa Ana, maybe around 3000 people (no one seemed to know), still pretty poor, and comprised almost entirely of Afro-Colombians. A lot of Barú looks the same as Santa Ana: rutted streets, a few donkeys passing, a few small stores. One interesting distinction is that unlike Santa Ana where concrete is by far the favored building material, Barúvians seem to have taken advantage of the forests surrounding them and built many of their houses out of wood. I do prefer the look, but not sure how they hold up in the torrential rains and penetrating sun. Randomly, quite a few also had tall columns on a wide front porch, reminding TL and I of old houses in the Old West in the States.

We stopped at the school and ended up getting a tour from THE English teacher, a Cartagenian named David, who is teaching 8th through 11th grade. Full of enthusiasm and teaching ideas that put my year to shame, he showed us around a bit as we talked about our program. The school is two stories, and though simple, very nice inside. There are about 900 students and like our schools, most teachers are from Cartagena or Barranquilla.

We walked around (more of sensation here that in Santa Ana where everyone knows us or at least knows there are gringos living in town), and had a nice lunch near the main dock. The 'road' we took in is certainly not the usual way to get here, though a decent number of motos come and go every day. Boats from Playa Blanca and from Cartagena come and go with regularity, if not a set schedule, and most groceries and goods arrive to the town by boat. The proximity to the Islas Rosarios and the Corales National Park means that the town is even more heavily invested in the tourist trade.

Across the water, from the few beaches and docks we stopped at in town and on our way in, we could see different hotels and resorts, small but expensive affairs each on its own island. In Santa Ana hopping over to the mainland may sometimes feel inconvenient, but it's actually pretty easy. Santa Ana - and Ararca - feel much more connected to the wider world than sleepy Barú, and I have to admit, I could get used to this tiny town on the tip of the island.

We left after lunch and made it back to familiar road without incident (we walked past the mud hole which had claimed my perfect driving record as a motorcycle passenger), back to speeding along the smooth dirt tract to the land of cars and large trucks and giant Decameron buses yet again.

I still only saw a sliver of the rest of the island, but it expanded my world a bit more. Now, when I say that I am living on Barú, I can envision a bit more of the island.

Boat traffic, wooden houses, and dangerous sections of muddy road all included.

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To see photos of the road in and Barú, click here.

The Three Necessities of Cartagena Independence Parties (Hint: It’s not beer, rum, and aguardiente)

This last week was the annual 11 de noviembre festivals in Cartagena, celebrating Cartagena’s declaration of independence from Spain in 1811. Yes, math whizzes, that means this year is the 200^th anniversary. So like any good celebration, this one included lots of loud music. Dancing. Late-night parties.

Plus… Various parades, beauty queens, and thousands (millions?) of spray bottles of foam.

Let’s start with the parades.

How many parades there were actually the week of the festivities, I actually don’t know. There was smaller parades for school children, one for gay pride, and one commemorating the route of the original proclamation of independence.

I went to the last of these, a fun group of everyone from school kids to senior citizens dressed up in costumes and marching and dancing through the historic center of Cartagena. We began with the ever-present anthem of Cartagena, then had an reading of the declaration of independence in a small plaza in the barrio of Getsenaní by a lady who I think was the mayor and danced our way past the Centennial Park, under the entrance to El Centro through the 15^th Century walls and ended up in front of the Cathedral for an energetic dance by what looked like high school students.

Then on the 10^th and 11^th itself there were much bigger parades, Rio-style with floats, streams of dancers, and the apparently ubiquitous fire truck to start and police equestrian unit. People call these celebrations Carnival, and for good reason. While nowhere near as large or elaborate as the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, Cartagena put on a good show. Elaborate costumes (usually showing more skin than coverings), energetic dancers shakin’ their thing down the parade route or following well-practiced steps with a partner, and costumed bands pounding out African-style beats on drums or playing salsa or vallenato high-stepped down Santander Avenue, the crashing blue of the Caribbean a mere 5 feet from the parade route.

The floats were simple, glittery birds or plants larger-than-life simply providing a vehicle (pun intended) for the Colombian beauty queens.

So on to beauty queens.

A big part of the 11 de noviembre festivos is the Colombian Beauty Pageant. The contestants from different regions all across Colombia (though I did not see one from each so not sure how that works) come to see who will be crowned the new Señorita Colombia. The current riena led the parade on the same float with the Señorita de la Independencia. Between the groups of dances the floats provided the stage for the contestants to wave to the cheering crowds, sporting their elaborate costumes (we did notice that Señorita Cartagena’s 4-inch heels came off half-way through).

But beauty queens were not just in Cartagena this week. Our school, like Barbacoas a few weeks back, had our own “Reinado” where a female contestant from each grade competed to become queen. After a lot of class-time missed in order to introduce them, give them a chance to say a few words on this years’ theme of Santa Ana Muestra Su Raza (Santa Ana Show Your Race/Roots), and give their grade a chance to cheer them as they walked around, catwalk style our multipurpose room, we finally came to the main event.

The event culminated this past week in a full morning of celebrations. We started off with our own parade around town, our queens also on floats. But these weren’t exactly ‘floating…’ Besides the bumpy, rutted, and muddy parade route, our floats weren’t what you might call mechanized. There were two kinds. The first, of course, was your standard donkey cart, pulled by the family horse or donkey of the contestant, and decorated with braided palm leaves and balloons. The second, simpler version, was simply cart. Sans donkey. Older male students took turns pushing the carts in the parade over all of those obstacles in the streets of Santa Ana. One made it the whole way. Unfortunately the cart hosting Kassi, who was representing the teachers, plus two more students barely made it out of the starting gate and tipped. They consolidated themselves on other carts – I mean floats – for the rest of the parade. Past homes and shops with everyone standing in their doorways to see us go by, navigating around puddles and motorcycles, passing pigs and more donkeys who weren’t fortunate enough to get to pull a cart while dealing with a balloon tied between their ears.

We ended up back at the school for part two: dancing and more contestant walking. Each grade did a dance, the queen contestant a central point of the group of anywhere from six to fifteen dancing to all sorts of popular music: salsa, champeta, and reggaeton. At the end, the contestants were all dressed in gowns and we crowned the winners for primary and secondary.

Lots of cheering followed the announcements, followed by glitter being thrown up into the air and accompanied by loud bangs.

Those bangs were caused by what are called buscapies, which brings us to the very important third part of what constitutes Cartagena’s Independence festivities.

Craziness on the street.

First up are our nameless number of spray bottles of foam. Basically regular old shaving cream, but housed in a festivo-themed decorated thinner bottle, available to buy anywhere on the street for 5000 (about $2.70). Walking the streets anytime after about 9:00 in the morning, you are fair game to be sprayed in the face, on your back, or until you resemble some strange tropical snowman.

But as annoying it was to wipe the semi-sticky white residue off your clothes, it was al in good fun. However, let’s get more into this and the less and less fun.

Next up for interesting/different/annoying ways Cartengeros celebrate the Independence are those buscapies. Buscapies are tiny firecrackers let off with annoyingly repetitiveness on streets everywhere. People are subtle about tossing them; you might see a group of people quickly scatter, and then there is a tiny bright flash, and loud pop/explosion, and bluish smoke floats away. Buscapies, consequently, translates to “look for feet.” I don’t have independent confirmation, but I figure the name covers two things: first, they are always thrown on the ground, so yes, you look for them at your feet; secondly after they go off you might actually need to double check and look for your feet. We were advised to wear closed-toed shoes while walking around. They’re small but can definitely pack a punch if you’re right on top of them.

Even less of an interesting tradition is that somehow extortion on the street becomes commonplace. Teenaged boys walk around in pairs or gangs asking everyone for coins, most painted completely black or covered in dark dye so it is easy to spot them. Some carry bottles filled with dye ready to splash it on you if you don’t pay up (though perhaps less than half follow through with their threats). Others have open contains with dye or something that looks a bit like tar. Still others walk around with charred sticks.

Walking through a crowd celebrating might also mean you get splashed on from a nearby puddle, you get water dumped on you, paint smeared on you, or simply caught up in a mob of people where escape is difficult. Also popular more on the outskirts (and on the road back to Santa Ana) is the trick of stringing a rope across a road and refusing to let it down unless the pedestrian, moto, or car pays up (though again you can get by without paying if you just keep going I found). Some of things is good-natured, and I actually enjoyed a cup of water dumped on my headed when I didn’t pay up (since I was so hot and sweaty), but others can get pretty mean.

And of course, there was simply a lot of random dancing in the street, even more music than normal blasting, late-night concerts and parties, decorations and Cartagenian flags everywhere in town, and gallons of Aguila beers, Tres Esquinas rum and agudardiente Antioqueño consumed throughout the day and night.

Apparently most of this happens every week around the 11^th so it is hard to tell what parts were special for the 200^th anniversary and which are traditions that continue year after year. I am sure some of the processions around town, meetings, and speeches had a little something extra for the bicentennial, because after all, it isn’t every day you get to celebrate something like that, especially on such a cool of a date as 11/11/11.

But you don’t need to wait for the calendar to flip to all those ones to start celebrating. Grab your can of foam, cheer on your favorite beauty queen and join in on the parade.

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To see photos from my school’s parade and queen competition, click here.

To see photos of parades, beauty queens, cans of foam, and random dancing and other mayhem in the streets, click here.

Summaries and The Tall Gringo

As I have tried to remind myself and everyone, I am in no way singular in my experiences teaching English in Colombia (see my mid-service post for more on this). I am part of a small team of teachers, who in turn are part of an organizations, which in turn is part of a greater goal.

So if the early onset of winter has forced you inside, I invite you to head over to the blog of fellow WorldTeach volunteer and friend Mike Hower, alias The Tall Gringo. Mike is braving the traffic and damp weather of big-city Bogotá at the same time I am trying to work around the coastal heat and slow pace of life in Santa Ana. His experiences are in many, many ways, so very different from mine but we share similar reasons for coming to Colombia and similar goals while here - our juxtaposition gives greater perspective to the WorldTeach program and Colombia as a whole.

Plus, his blog makes for some good reading folks, so I invite you to branch out as you further your Colombian education and check in with The Tall Gringo.

A month or so ago, Mike asked me to write a piece about living and teaching in Santa Ana for his own blog. As my ‘month-to-go-‘ mark speeds closer, this post allowed me to organize, summarize, and start to define my year here as I struggled to write about a life in a new culture in a manageable length.

Here is that attempt, entitled The 5 S’s of Santa Ana: A Look at Living and Teaching on Isla Barú:

Setting. Students. Sweat. Shouts. Surprises.

These five things have not only defined my experience teaching English and living in Colombia but also help explain my experiences here—what I have enjoyed, struggled with, and learned from life here. (Plus, who doesn’t like blog posts defined by alliteration?)

Setting

First, let me set the scene. Palm and jacaranda trees blowing in a hot breeze. Green bushes grow densely thanks to the rainy season where months before there was only khaki dirt lay. Honking donkeys and lowing cattle move through the streets, which are simultaneously rutted with mud and covered in dust…

To continue reading, head over to the entry on Mike’s blog.

We’ve crazily only got two real weeks of class left. Hard to believe. This week is Cartagena Independence festivals – definitely more on that next week - then two weeks, then exams, our week of recuperaction and reinforcement, and then a week of maybe meetings ,maybe school (yeah, we still don’t know), and then I’ll be back in Washington, most likely wrapped up in a couple dozen blankets by the fire.

Race to the finish starts now.

Elections (And election fraud, election violence, and a glimpse into Colombian politics)

Ten months into living in Colombia, I have learned a lot about this country that is still known for it violence and drugs. I have learned about its other sides, its friendly people, its diverse landscapes and cultures, its day-to-day life so different from the narrow stereotypes Colombia is known for.

But sometimes living in Santa Ana, focusing on my day-to-day life of school, it is easy to forget about the very serious problems that Colombia faces.

For good or bad, last-week’s nation-wide local elections were a harsh reminder of how far this country has to go.

Politics are nearly always a dirty business. Crazy rhetoric in European political parties, ridiculous gobs of money spent in U.S. races, ethnic and tribal politics in parts of Africa, crazy campaign ads, voter fraud, vote buying, gift giving, etc., etc.

Colombia of course has a rough history, a history where violence and politics go hand-in-hand.

Today, as the FARC and paramilitaries are squeezed into smaller pockets of land, and guerillas demobilize, it is more than true that things in Colombia are improving. And as the country does grow richer and more prosperous, politics continue to be a target and showcase the darker side of Colombia that I don’t have to see every day. The large-scale violence of guerilla and drug running is starting to slow to a trickle and elections are one way every faction in Colombia tries to gain and retain power.

These are local elections, of governors, mayors and municipal council members. For more then a month, we have seen political advertising up all over. In Cartagena poster with the candidate’s face, party and slogan hang tacked to light poles, are glued to walls and cover billboards. Car advertising is popular, with whole private cars repainted with the candidate’s message and image. While on my travels up north, it was popular for a candidate to have an entire vallenato song about them blasting from speakers in the back of their campaign’s truck. Out of the cities, it is common for random walls of old homes, or vacant lots to be painted over with the candidate’s name and slogan.

Colombia has seven main political parties, with various smaller parties. The president and senate are elected every four years (2014 next), with the 32 departments having the local elections every four years, the year after (last one was in 2007, next in 2015).

A lot of things seem to be problematic with Colombia’s elections this time around. One of the more depressing statistics is that 41 candidates have been killed this election season, way up from 27 last time Colombia had local elections. The government blames FARC and the new power players, bacrims (short for banda criminals, or criminals bands or gangs), Colombia’s new paramilitaries.

As a whole, election violence over the past decades has decreased. In the 1990s, four presidential candidates were killed. The forces in the civil conflict would usually try to disrupt the election, not join it, stepping up attacks on civilians and government troops alike, and boycotting the vote.

Nowadays, the FARC, the bacrims and the political factions fighting them are all battling for control of local power and funds and so vote-buying, threats (to voters and candidates) and illegal financing of campaigns is common.

In the large-scale, there are reports of bacrims buying up a few blocks for a candidate, guaranteeing this candidate all the votes in the area. How they do that probably covers all manner of crimes. Rumor has it that on a smaller scale, candidates buy individual voters, sometimes hiring children to go into the polling places to guarantee the voter actually votes for the ‘right’ candidate.

Independent watchdog groups have identified more than 13,000 candidates (of 101,000) who are linked to “dubious interests,” 447 of who were actually facing criminal charges or had some other problem with the law that should have made them ineligible to run. Corruption seems to apply at ever level and in every political party, and while the government seems to be cracking down on many cases of voter fraud, it is hard to imagine that ‘the government’ currently in power has not also taken part in some of the more under-handed, illegal, and even vicious ways to try and gain votes.

In Santa Ana, I don’t know how many of these problems were happening. I headed down to school Sunday the 30^th to see the voting and ran into no problems. A large crowd was getting let into the school grounds in small group where they would wait in line depending on last name. Cardboard voting booths were set up where people filled out their ballots – different colored sheets for each race. Santa Ana doesn’t have its own mayor or anything so everyone was voting for Cartagena mayor, Cartagena council members (consejo), and governor of Bolívar.

The government also deployed 330,000 army troops and police officers throughout the country to ‘keep voter peace,’ even in Santa Ana. Our six usual police in town had reinforcements, including at least three army guys with the usual machine guns in tow.

Also part of elections is a law which prohibits the sale and consumption of alcohol starting 6pm Saturday evening, lasting through Sunday’s elections until 6am Monday morning (for that early-morning pick-me-up).

So polls opened at11:00 and closed at 4:00, and results came in over the TV and radio just like any other election. Reports of fraud and violence practically yesterday’s news.

The upside to these problems is that the depressing statistics are in part due to the fact that elections are being better monitored. The government is trying to keep up appearances of fighting corruption, saying the right things, and canceling ID cards that appeared to be fraudulent. Yet corruption in all forms and at all levels continues.

Colombia is not – and should not be – defined by its political problems. But its political problems will certainly hinder this country trying to come out of a civil conflict, struggling with human right violations, defined by an illicit drug trade, and where day-to-day politics has never been free from the worst kinds of corruption.

Messy politics is not who Colombia is. But it will continue to stop positive development and tarnish the thousands of other positives parts of this country unless the corruption and violence stop.

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English Language Resources and Further Reading:

BBC News on Criminal Influences on Election

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-15489446

Miami Herald on 2011 Local Election Problems

http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/10/28/2476657/colombian-municipal-elections.html#storylink=mirelated

Miami Herald on Violence in Colombian Politics

http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/07/21/2335707/colombian-politics-remains-a-deadly.html#storylink=misearch

Colombia Reports on 2011 Local Election Problems

http://www.colombiareports.com/colombia-news/news/20048-polling-stations-in-colombia-open-for-local-elections.html