part I
She was picking lemons in the field below her house. The fifteen-year-old girl
was holding a month-old baby in her arms and focusing on her work along with her
little sister. She spots a colorful shirt next to a mango tree just lying there
like someone forgot it. She went to pick it up. But it was a trap set by paramilitaries
or guerillas during one of the many battles for control of the area in the long
and bloody war that has plagued Colombia for more than 40 years. The explosion
was instantaneous. It was the type of mine Colombians call “quiebrapatas” (“leg-splitter”).
This young mother ended up in the hospital, her right leg mangled. Her newborn
daughter also suffered wounds all over her body. Her little sister was unharmed.
William, John Jairo and Javier were 5, 8 and 9 years old. On February 13 last
year, they were playing around their houses like they also do. They stepped on
a landmine that ripped them to pieces. All three died.
No long-term solution. These are just two of the countless stories of everyday madness in this country
that knows no peace, stories of blood and violence that afflict untold numbers
of children every hour of every day. These are lives without hope and episodes
of absurd cruelty in a country that has been at war for decades.
6,021 such incidents have been reported in the past 15 years. Of Colombia’s 32
regions, 30 are filled with buried mines. 37 percent of the victims are civilians,
mostly women and children. In 2004, an average of one person per day stepped on
a landmine. The number of wounded and disabled continues to grow with an ongoing
shortage of emergency medical centers, rehabilitation clinics and social assistance.
This despite the Ottawa Convention that has been in effect since March 2001. Signed
December 3, 1997, the Convention obligates signatories to put an end to the production,
use, sale, shipment and technological development of mines. It also requires them
to provide necessary care for victims.
Underestimated. So despite Ottawa, landmine use has increased in the last four years. According
to the report published by the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL),
668 victims were reported in 2003, of whom 156 died from their wounds. 195 were
civilians: 19 women and 49 children. In 2004, the numbers peaked at two victims
per day. And these figures are only estimates since, once they get to the hospital,
many of the victims are afraid to say how they got injured. The minefields are,
after all, the work of guerilla fighters and paramilitaries. Stepping on a mine
somehow raises the fear that you might be considered one of the enemy. So some
prefer not to talk about it. Needless to say, monitoring is further complicated
when the victim is a paramilitary or even a member of the Revolutionary Armed
Forces of Colombia (FARC). Plus not everyone makes it to a hospital. In fact,
most of these murderous devices lie in remote rural areas with little in the way
of medical facilities where getting to a hospital means walking for days.
In this way, farming areas—fields and crops that are the only means of support
for entire villages—have been transformed into lethal traps and whoever wanders
in is playing Russian roulette. So as not to risk death, many evacuate and leave
everything behind. As a result, we see packs of families on the road just trying
to avoid being blown to bits—“desplazados” by landmines.
Who uses the mines? Various left-wing guerilla groups and paramilitaries fighting for the government
make use of Anti-Personnel mines (AP) and the booby-trap Improvised Explosive
Devices (IED); they have been planting acres upon acres of minefield for at least
fifteen years. The reason? Because they’re cheap weapons that are easy to find
and assemble (the IEDs) and extremely effective. According to local media sources,
the FARC make regular use of mines, particularly in Caquetá, Meta and Antioquia
(a fact the FARC themselves don’t deny). Mines are considered an indispensable
method of defense during retreats, useful for safeguarding strategic positions
and laying ambushes. Since the mines are intended for paramilitary or military
troops, civilian casualties are considered “collateral damage” and not yet serious
enough to merit a ban. Mines are planted along major roads, near bridges, sources
of water, coca fields and alongside oil pipelines. It seems that no one can conceive
of a way to wage war without them.
And the same holds true for the National Liberation Army (ELN) that operates
in the southern department of Bolívar. But here, at least, the ELN has warned
people of their presence. “We use them as a means of protection. They’re a very
popular weapon—easy to make and necessary to keep pace with the technological
advances of our enemy,” a guerilla spokesman reported to Monitor de Minas terrestres,
a government organization that oversees the implementation of the Ottawa Treaty.
“Political condemnations don’t solve our problem—we have to defend ourselves somehow,”
they explain and say they are willing to come to an agreement to let civilian
populations know about minefields with detailed maps. In January of this year,
they also claimed to be prepared to remove mines from 15 kilometers of street
in southern Bolívar. This move is thanks to the pressure exerted by the Colombian
Campaign Against Mines, an ICBL association that works with the non-governmental
organization Geneva Call, who also appears to have begun talks with the FARC.
Paramilitaries. By contrast, paramilitaries—and in particular the Colombian United Self-Defense
Forces (AUC)—have littered vital communication routes with mines. Despite a lack
of recent evidence, according to the ICBL report there’s no guarantee that paramilitary
mine use has even diminished in frequency. Just over a third of reported incidents
in Arauca between 1990 and 2002 were carried out by unidentified groups and classified
as “unknown.” But in 2001-02, the figure reached 60 percent: this is precisely
the period that saw the highest frequency of paramilitary incursions in the department.
Reports from a humanitarian group working in the southern part of Bolívar department
in August 2001 provide some idea of how these forces—illegally armed and fighting
for the government—tend to treat civilians. “During guerilla counterattacks, the
paramilitaries would force peasants to ride a mule through the minefields to clear
the way for them. And that’s not all. They often used villagers quite literally
as human shields to make their way into dangerous areas.”
The peace process initiated by the Uribe government in September 2004 never dealt
with the question of AP mines. One reason may be that so far paramilitary demobilization
has involved mostly urban groups that never used these kinds of weapons.
Stella Spinelli