Rednecks rise again

Back in my early secondary school days, as a country lad heading off to mix it with the townies, it was common for the latter to mock us. We were farmer boys, or rednecks, as they say in some parts. 

It was generally a bit of innocent slagging but no doubt it had its origins in the long-held belief that workers of the land were a bit "behind", simple if you will, compared to those from urban settings.

Cattle on Bogotá's northern limits: Bringing a bit of the country to the city.

Of course, the townies of Ballaghaderreen, along with everybody else from "down the country", were derogatorily seen as bog folk, "culchies" being the precise word, by those from the capital Dublin.

Zoom out even more and the whole of Ireland was traditionally viewed as being backward by our "superior" neighbours in Britain. 'Strange specimens those Irish, aren't they?'

City fat cats

Modern, advanced, rich societies emanate from urban strongholds with their schools of excellence and suchlike. Rural areas only get the crumbs, enough to keep them ticking over, from the power brokers seated around that grandiose table. So it goes anyway.

Nonetheless, keeping those seated at the urban table well-fed and content with affordable food is nigh-on impossible without the simple country folk doing their bit to provide it.

'We’re just a few consecutive disasters away from very troubling times.'

The irony here is that while the great advancements in communications and technology have made the world a smaller place, many urban dwellers have become quite removed, mentally at least, from the rural areas that they rely on to stay alive.

OK, they have other, more complicated, complex concerns to worry about. The country serves simply as escapism from the concrete jungle. Engagement with it is at a superficial level only.

What's more, aren't the technological improvements in agriculture and the like, urban brainchildren as most have been, resulting in greater yields and reduced workloads for those who farm the land?

There's merit to that.

Yet, to continue providing for the growing urban masses, more engagement with, and investment in, the countryside are required, not less.

Misplaced priorities

Whether one believes in man-made climate change or not (Donald Trump, considering his age, doesn't have to concern himself with it), we can't deny the fact that we have been experiencing extreme weather events that threaten our precious food supply. We could be just a few consecutive disasters away from quite troubling times.

How many of us would be able to survive in a kind of post-apocalyptic planet, something akin to what we often see portrayed in Hollywood movies?

It would seem fair to say that a majority of First Worlders have become too reliant on our modern comforts, on a lifestyle where we can get pretty much anything we want when we want it.

'We won't be too concerned about our mental health when our very existence is under threat.'

As a species, we could also be accused of vastly overvaluing non-essentials at the expense of the essentials. Think Hollywood again, that whole world of showbiz and fame.

Heck, I left the land I was reared on (as the majority of rural-born people do these days) to go on to pursue a career (can I call it that?!) in media. Fair enough, journalism plays — or at least used to play — an important role as the fourth estate, it can be a force of positive change.

However, the counter-argument here is that this vocation has lost its way and relevance in recent times (whisper it, #FakeNews. Thanks Donald). And don't get me started again on the evil incarnate that is marketing!

On a similar note, a Colombian psychologist friend told me how he wanted to get "back to the land", fearing that without preventative action now he would be useless when faced with a future scenario where one had to fend for oneself for the bare necessities.

As he put it, when it's a simple matter of life or death, very few people will be looking to take the time to think deeply about it all, teasing out the pros and cons. His profession would be practically surplus to requirements.

Basically, and as much as I'm not a fan of Christianity (or any religion really), the old mantra of 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust and dust you shall return' rings true.

The land, the planet will have the last laugh.

Those old backward rednecks who understand it a little better than most mightn't seem so repulsive then.
________________________________
Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan – The Blog & IQuiz “The Bogotá Pub Quiz”.
Listen to The Colombia Cast podcast here.

Colombia's not-so-magical realism

Back in the heady days of the Republic of Ireland's "glorious" run at Italia '90 — fair enough, the team reached the last eight but did so without winning a single game in 90 minutes — it practically amounted to treason to question the side's approach or not to be fully supportive of the boys in green.

Relax, la Selección is winning, everything's fine! (Image from fcf.com.co.)

The one pundit who did go against the national zeitgeist, Eamon Dunphy, was temporarily banished from his role with the state broadcaster RTÉ. He dared to criticise the Irish performance after a drab 0-0 draw with Egypt.

He wasn't really wrong with what he said but the country didn’t want to hear such harsh truths in the flood of bonhomie and giddy excitement that a first-ever World Cup appearance swept in.

Don't rock the boat, baby!

This was pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland. Much poorer and, it could be said, more innocent times. The nation badly needed a pick-me-up and Jack Charlton's heroes delivered that (some people have even attributed it to playing an important part in the economic boom that was to follow). Clear-headed, unbiased analysis wasn't wanted.

Nowadays, however, it's pretty much a national pastime to be critical of the Republic of Ireland soccer team. It could even be said that some of it is over the top.

Nonetheless, as a nation matures, its people, in most cases, are better equipped to carry out some introspection, as difficult as it may be.

Looking at Colombia from a self-governing perspective, it is older than the Republic of Ireland. Yet, in many aspects, it hasn't quite mastered the art of self-criticism.

This can be seen clearly enough in the soccer (or football, if you will) world, for the beloved Selección.

Now, I've never really believed in the impartial reporter malarkey, especially when it comes to sports commentary, but you'd like to think that such professionals could at least try to bring a semblance of balance to proceedings. Not here in Colombia.

The lads and lassies commentating and analysing on Colombian games see things solely through yellow-coloured (or blue or red when the side is playing in its alternative strip) glasses. Their heavily biased approach only adds further fuel to the fire of an already highly strung watching public. Win, lose or draw, all sense of realism is lost.

"It was the euphoria that led me to stab you. Que pena!"

Take the opening, and fully merited, Copa América win over Argentina. Yes, the Argies have a number of individuals of truly world-class standard. Yet, the reality is, the collective has been much less than the sum of its parts for a couple of years now.

Their form of late against fellow South American teams, for one, has been patchy to say the least. That should be factored into any proper analysis of Colombia's victory. However, on the whole here, it's not.

This isn't to say that it was a "nothing win" for Colombia, not at all. You can make a case for them to go far. Colombia's performance was as solid as what we've seen thus far. But let's just take it game by game for now, keep things in perspective.

Going backwards, at speed

Of course, a country losing the run of itself over football "success" is harmless really, save for the odd violent incident that happens post-match. ("Oops, it was the euphoria that led me to stab you. ¡Que pena!").

In politics and the general running of the country, on the other hand, overlooking facts, ignoring certain obvious signs that things may not be as you're saying they are, that's a recipe for disaster. 

For more balanced commentators on Colombia, there's a feeling that the country's on the slide (two years ago, in Colombia's comedown?, I touched on some of these challenges).

The right-leaning president, Iván Duque, not quite a year in the post, hasn't done much to steady the ship. On the contrary, for many observers, things are in reverse.

There is a theory that keeping the country on the precipice suits certain powerful interests. One wouldn't want to unlock Colombia's great potential for the masses or those of a different ilk. A jobs-for-the-boys kind of approach. Considering this land's history, you'd have to say there might be something to that.

But hey, as long as La Selección keeps on winning, everything's wonderful, isn’t it?
_________________________
Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan – The Blog & IQuiz “The Bogotá Pub Quiz”.
Listen to The Colombia Cast podcast here. 

The accidental gomelo

"You're a posh boy now, a gomelo." So go the jibes from my old barrio buddies now that I find myself living in a swankier part of Bogotá (gomelo, for the uninitiated, is the Colombian word for what you might call preppy types).

Santandercito: Out of sight but by no means out of mind.

Yes, it's true, my move a few kilometres south of my beloved San Antonio/Santandercito sees me placed in plushier surrounds.

The thing is, however, when my hand was forced to move, the chance to live within a more reasonable walking distance — 4.5 km versus 10 km — of the office appealed (I'm still in that full-time job, somehow). Save time and, potentially, money.

"Perhaps I'll embrace the gomelo guise."

For, as surprising as this may seem, the rent in my new Cedritos Lisboa location is comparable to what I was paying out on the city limits. What's more, it comes with much more in terms of furnishings and appliances.

Having a well-kitted-out place is a bonus, of sorts, considering I still, after almost eight years based in Bogotá, have a backpacker mentality when it comes to settling down and making a house a home.

The state of the kitchen in the new abode could yet become a contentious issue, as it often tends to be when sharing. I have to revise my theory that all elderly women always keep their homes in pristine condition. The situation is more than manageable for now, though. 

Stranded

The biggest drawback is that it's pretty much right in the middle of Poshville. That is to say, you have to walk a bit of a distance — not a big deal for me, in fairness — to get back to the barrios populares for the "proper" panaderías, tiendas and all that kind of good stuff.

Some of Bogotá's other upper-class areas, in contrast, find themselves stuck next to the riff-raff. Closer to the centre, La Macarena bordering La Perseveranica, my spiritual home in a way, is one example of this.

On top of being stranded in salubrity, so to put it, these richer neighbourhoods tend to be a little sterile. There's no real life to them. They're bland at best. The barrios, on the other hand, have a buzz about them.

Go gomelo

Nonetheless, for as long as I have this full-time office job, staying in such a stale sector with its proximity to work is fine. 

During the week, with the current eat, sleep, work, repeat routine, I don't really have the time like before to enjoy the barrios in any case. It's purely a weekend delight these days. That's OK. Too much of a good thing and all that.

Or who knows, maybe I'll adapt to my new environment and take on this gomelo guise. "What say you, güevón?" "Osea, Lord help us!"
___________________________
Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan – The Blog & IQuiz “The Bogotá Pub Quiz”.