Return to Cali

Hi Friends,

The house I grew up in has been turned into a computer training centre

Time didn’t stand still in Cali in the past 25 years. In fact so much has changed that all the places of my youth are pretty much unrecognizable. My old neighbourhood has changed from residential to commercial, so it’s no longer a place where people stroll about in the evening and chat with their neighbours. The house I lived in has been turned into a computer training center, and the only thing that’s the same at my old school is the soccer field and the basketball court. Everything else has been rebuilt.

After the initial shock of the changed house, I was fortunate to find that one of our old next-door neighbours still lives there and remembers our family. Big hugs and quite a few tears were shed as we stood on the street. We were invited in and had a wonderful time getting caught up on each others lives. Given that the row houses were all pretty much identical, I got to show Emilia and Philip Maynard around, using a substitute house. It’s hard to go back and find everything different. Though the pictures that were frozen in time have now been updated, I wonder if the old images that were crystal clear will now get blurred.

My childhood friend Nydia and her family

When we arrived at the airport I had no trouble recognizing my friend Nydia. Emilia and Philip Maynard were expecting to see a 20 year old waiting for us, perhaps because they knew that is the age I was when I last visited Cali. I think Nydia and I have gotten used to the older versions of each other. It’s been great to get to know her husband Diego and 11 year old daughter Maria Juliana.

Given that Nydia’s family is busy with work and school during the day, Emilia, Philip Maynard and I head out to explore the city. A highlight has been our visits to an animal rescue centre. Years ago a woman who loves animals started taking in homeless dogs and cats. Over time, her efforts grew into the Paraiso de la Mascota (Pet’s Paradise), a shelter that houses about 450 rescued dogs and cats and a few horses.

Dog Heaven - cuddling Canelita!

The human climbing tree!

When we arrived, the din of 300 barking dogs was almost deafening. I asked one of the staff about how the neighbours respond to all the noise. There are lots of complaints, he said, but they reached a compromise; no visitors on Sundays, which reduces the amount of barking. Most of the dogs settled down once we went into one of the enclosures, though. With these four legged “kids” bounding up to us and begging to be played with, Emilia, Philip-Maynard and I settled into an afternoon of dog and cat heaven.

Large groups of dogs generally get on well together

At one point, a fight broke out between two dogs just as I stepped into an enclosure. In the confusion, one of the fighting dogs sunk his teeth into my leg. When I showed the somewhat nasty gash to one of the staff, his response was, “Hmm… that’s unusual, people go into those enclosures regularly and the dogs don’t bite them.”

While I wasn’t too worried, since all the dogs were vaccinated against rabies, I was struck by how casual his response was. Given that there was still a risk of an infection, we carefully cleaned off the wound and I relocated to an area where the dogs weren’t fighting.

A couple of days have passed, and I’m relieved that the bite is healing well. Our only real concern now is how we’re going to get back to Canada without one very cute little brown dog named Canelita (Little Cinnamon) that Emilia has fallen in love with!

As our month in Colombia wraps up, I think about the complexity and many layers in this country. During a taxi ride here in Cali, we observed to the driver that very few people use seat belts, even though they’re mandatory. Well, this hit a nerve.  “The government doesn’t give a damn if I live or die,” he said. “The only reason for seat belt laws is to line the pockets of government officials”. The driver then reiterated what I’ve heard over and over since arriving here. The Colombian government is one of the most corrupt in Latin America.

We came across an example of this in our travels. A woman in one of the hostels we were staying at was riding in a taxi that was in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. When she saw the other car speeding towards them, our friend threw herself behind the seat for protection. Both she and the driver escaped with minor injuries.

Later, lying on a stretcher in Emergency with a broken nose and many bruises, a police officer came by. He started out trying to flirt with her. When that failed, he got really close to her face and quietly said, “you know, the family of the driver will come to talk to you. They’ll want to make things right.” Our friend had learned that the drunk driver came from a well-known family. After repeating this ominous statement a couple of times, the police officer left.

The next day, our friend went to the police station to get a copy of the accident report for her insurance company. The police told her that unfortunately all the records from the accident had been lost. As she told us these details, she said it made her nervous to know that the police had already been paid off, and that she could be entangled with a powerful family that would do whatever it took to get their son off.

When I told this story to our taxi driver, he said “she’s lucky to be alive”. I asked if he meant because of the accident, and he said “No, she’s lucky that the family didn’t have her killed.”

Although this seems extreme, this wasn’t the first time we’ve heard this kind of thing. I’ve been told that over the years, people from all walks of life, including judges, lawyers, union leaders, and politicians have been murdered or “disappeared” after publicly challenging corruption, or working to bring about change.

Our driver repeated a number of times that if the police or military knew that he talked openly about this, his life would be in danger. It felt like the flood gates had opened for him as he spoke out with so much emotion. As our ride came to an end, he gave me a list of books that I could read if I want to learn more.

Today, I went searching for the books, and was told, “Oh… we had those books briefly but they were banned by the government. We’re not allowed to sell them here. If you want them, you have to get them on street.”

Life is difficult for a majority of Colombians, while at the same time, others live very well. Peace is tenuous, and yet,  amidst all of the challenges, we’ve experienced warmth and generosity everywhere we’ve gone. It hasn’t always been easy for me, but it was good to come back.

Today we say goodbye to Colombia and move on to Ecuador.