Welcome to California

No, not the state of California in the U.S. - a region of Colombia in the Gulf of Urabá that is called California.  I arrived in Barranquilla late on a Thursday evening, and at 4 a.m. Friday morning, we (the 3 other accompaniers, the accompaniment coordinator, and I) were on the road for a 14-hour car trip south. 

These photos illustrate the adventure and the wonderful people.  Words feel weak in my attempt to share the somber realities of life in California.  We passed through a government checkpoint to enter the region, and I learned that the area is considered a red zone by the Colombian government.  The area is known to be controlled by a paramilitary group, and it was decidedly calm....but not peaceful.  Later, we were given more specifics: coca (the crop which is chemically treated to form cocaine...much like methamphetamine) is grown by paramilitaries in this area; the bench we sat on to watch the pick-up softball game is directly in front of a house occupied by a paramilitary planted in the community; and, everyone we met has been displaced at least once by violence in their community. 

After the retreat in California, we visited small churches in various communities.   In each village, we met remarkable men and women.  Chigorodó is a small community made up almost entirely of displaced families.  Several church members raise and sell pigs and chickens as a result of a grant from the Presbyterian Church (USA).  One church leader shared details of a guerrilla takeover of his town several years ago.  For three days, he and his family were trapped under a bed because of dangerous crossfire.  

In these communities that welcome us as family, the generosity abounds and individuals exude a peace that matches the tranquil earthen landscape and not the tumultuous human environment.