La Chorrera in Colombia's Amazon: Bloody past, insecure present

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

There is a view in certain circles that Indigenous peoples in isolated areas live a largely wholesome and simple life, at one with nature, in stark contrast to us folk in more digitally connected, fast-paced societies — a version of the noble savage idea.

Isolated reserve: There are no roads into La Chorrera but the airline Satena flies there. Arriving by river is also an option, but a complicated one.

This is true in some instances and areas. There are still tribes in existence that continue to shun Western civilisation.

Yet, many indigenous, even those who still live on their native lands far away from the original centres of colonisation of the country in which they now find themselves, have adopted high-income-nation habits — be that for better or for worse.

This is the case for most of those who identify as indigenous that I've encountered in South America.

One might think that the situation would be rather different on a secluded indigenous reserve, an area where the original natives — Who is an original native? — are left to live relatively autonomously from the intruding state.

Green gold

Both the settlement and area of La Chorrera, which the locals call the true heart of the Amazon, is one such reserve.

In terms of its autonomy from Colombia, well there is no state police presence. Filling that void, nominally in any case, is the indigenous guard. The Colombian military does have a base nearby but the soldiers rarely get involved in local affairs even if, at times, their intervention might be welcome.

The people have their own executive committee for internal affairs, with a president, vice president, and certain ministerial/secretarial posts.

As for agricultural self-sufficiency, the Igara Paraná River that flows through the region provides fish, as well as a plentiful supply of water. Most homesteads also have their own poultry, the odd few farm pigs while the ever-retreating wild animals in the surrounding jungle are occasionally hunted, with el blanco (whiteman) guns, of course.

'An elder told me that a commander in a nearby guerrilla group is planning a social cleansing of the area and has a list of those who are considered a burden.'

Root vegetables such as cassava (yuca) and yam (ñame) are staples, alongside plantain and a host of tropical fruits.

The tobacco plant, too, plays a big part in the culture, chiefly in the form of a paste called ambil, almost exclusively taken by men.

Ambil is often consumed alongside the region's green gold, or what some in other parts of Colombia convert into white gold, the coca leaf.

In La Chorrera, coca is ground down — together with a palm tree leaf to soften the bitterness — to a fine powder and consumed in the mouth. The idea is to slowly transform the powder — which has a powdered-milk texture — into a paste in the mouth before ingesting it gradually. This pick-me-upper coca powder is called mambe and its consumption is again a male preserve.

Coca leaves that aren't destined for mambe are sold, currently at 100,000 COP per kilo, to outsiders who, one assumes, use them to make cocaine.

From what I observed and what I was told, cocaine isn't at all popular in the area.

Beer necessities

Yet, what I've been told is growing in popularity — but not grown locally — is marijuana use among the community's younger folk. Elders say this has led to an increase in insecurity.

I did occasionally smell it and noticed some young men a little stoned but I can't say that I felt that unsafe in the settlement, despite warnings from some to keep my wits about me when wandering about. (This is in stark contrast to supposedly dangerous, more easily accessible towns such as Puerto Asís and San José del Guaviare, where inhabitants are quick to talk about how safe they are. Yes, people there could have been trying to lure me into a false sense of security but I never sensed anything untoward — and nothing untoward happened.)

Home comforts: One of the over 100 houses the Colombian government is building and gifting to La Chorrera.

One La Chorrera elder even told me that a commander in a nearby guerrilla group is planning a social cleansing of the area and already has a list of those who are considered a burden. How true that is, I guess time will tell.

The main annoyance I encountered was those who like a beer or six — beer being another product very much not of the region. Some boozers weren't shy about asking — in an aggressive tone at times — el blanco to finance their drinking. (At between 5,000 and 8,000 COP for a 330 ml can of Poker, it's around four times more than what I pay for beer in my preferred watering holes in Bogotá.)

The various winged pests of this jungle outpost were less of a nuisance than these opportunist extortionists.

I had thought that being Irish and, with it, the link to Roger Casement and his efforts in alerting Western powers of the terrible rubber-era genocide of the Indigenous that took place in the region in the early twentieth century might have cut me some slack — I'm not just another blanco. But no. In fairness, most did start referring to me somewhat more affectionately as el irlandés once they got to know me. It's the Peruvians and the British establishment these beer-seekers should be pestering, not me. (See my 2016 post, Remembering Casement's Colombian connection for background.)

'The chuck-it-anywhere approach goes against the narrative that care and respect for the natural environment is one of their chief concerns.'

Now, while I wasn't there long enough to draw any solid conclusions, it did appear to me that it was the men from the more square-faced Uitoto (or Huitoto) tribe who were the annoying drinkers while the rounder-faced Boras seemed far more benign. More research is required. (For the record, the greater La Chorrera area is composed, in the main, of four traditional tribes: the aforementioned Bora and Uitoto, together with the Muinane and Okaina.)

Virtual autonomy

Mentioning tribes might bring one back to this idea of scantily clad Amazon natives. The reserve may like to see and even sell itself as autonomous but the clothing — like the beer, many food items, internet plus free WiFi from the national government, smartphones, televisions, motorbikes, and even the timber for new state-gifted houses — very much comes from outside. Football shirts are particularly popular for the men, as is football in general for all. Indeed, football brings the community together more regularly than any traditional event.

Even at a traditional dance that I had the serendipitous pleasure of attending in the Santa Rosa settlement, a four-hour boat ride upriver from La Chorrera, there was nothing native about the attire. For sure, the dance and refreshments were traditional but the look was more Bogotá barrio than Amazon jungle.

Considering the dance came at the end of a two-day football tournament, let's not be too critical of the lack of effort on the dress front. And respect to the attendees from Puerto Sabalo in the Caquetá department. Theirs was a two-day journey, mixing boat travel with long walks. Despite such endeavours, or perhaps because of them, they won the men's tournament.

Less respect is forthcoming for many locals' rubbish disposal. The chuck-it-anywhere approach goes against the narrative that care and respect for the natural environment is one of their chief concerns. The same goes for the practice of bathing and cleaning clothes in the river with modern soaps and detergents.

This isn't me having a go at them. I'm in no way suggesting that they must return to a more primitive life. (Although this is something I often think I'd like to do, I don't think there are many in La Chorrera who want it.)

It's more a case that it bugs me when some people from afar put such indigenous types on a pedestal, as role models for us modern monsters to follow. Also at play is the mildly aggressive this-is-our-land attitude of a small number of La Chorrera natives.

As pointed out, it's not a truly autonomous indigenous reserve. The sane-headed locals are well aware of this and are very welcoming of unobtrusive visitors. And, as it currently operates, it's unlikely La Chorrera will survive as a functioning entity without attracting the right kind of outside assistance.

Those who want all the whiteman goodies but then act as if outsiders aren't welcome or are merely to be taken advantage of, let's see how they'd do living completely autonomously.

Remember guys, you won't be able to beer or Google your way out of it.

*There are various accommodation options in La Chorrera. Hospedaje Fátima, owned by a lovely elder — abuela as they say — of the same name (Fátima, that is!), is one of the better options. It's 25,000 COP per night for a humble en suite room with WiFi as good as you'll get anywhere. Plus, Fátima is niceness personified!

**A special mention, too, to Marina and her mother Irene who operate as a restaurant/snack food joint. Well worth checking out. Also, Jorge who runs the tienda by the main dock is a very helpful gentleman and a member of the executive committee. I mention these because they run businesses in the settlement but there are other friendly locals who are only too willing to help for no ulterior motive.
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Pacific Puerto Asís

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'It's a bit "caliente" down there, be careful.'

That was the general response from Bogotá-based acquaintances when I told them I was heading to the town of Puerto Asís in Colombia's Putumayo department, close to the border with Ecuador.

As nondescript as Puerto Asís's urban area is, it takes a hold on one all the same.

Dearth of delinquents

Caliente, hot that is, wasn't in reference to the weather (although, with afternoon temperatures regularly reaching over 30 degrees Celsius and high humidity, it certainly is sultry). No, hot in this context refers to the security situation, as in it's dangerous.

There's nothing too shocking in that. Frontier towns tend to come with a negative reputation. I have, though, been to enough of them in Colombia to know that this label is not always warranted; just don't expect them to feature high in lists of best places to live.

Yet, of the border towns I've stayed in across the world, Puerto Asís ranks as one of the more livable ones — along with Cúcuta. OK, recency bias together with my quite low expectations might be at play in this, however from a safety perspective — often the most pressing concern in such places — Puerto Asís seems almost crime-free.

With the town's population around the 50,000 mark in an area covering roughly six square kilometres — excluding the hinterland, that is — I walked practically every bit of it. Nowhere did I feel unsafe. What's more, none of the residents ever advised me to exercise caution in certain parts, as often happens in other big towns and cities.

'The moto taxi drivers are the most irksome, offering their services by beeping, gesturing and/or calling out 'moto' as they pass by. It's almost as if it's an offence to walk.'

The place appeared delinquent-free. It was even largely devoid of the Colombian-standard, in-your-face wandering street vendors and beggars. (A local tienda bar owner told me that the area has been controlled by non-state actors, hence less obvious delinquency on the streets. Obligatory payments to officially proscribed armed groups come with certain benefits, akin to the days when the IRA allegedly kept drug pushers out of the neighbourhoods it managed in Northern Ireland.)

The most irksome element is the motorbike, or moto, taxi drivers who frequently offer their services by beeping, gesturing and/or calling out 'moto' as they pass one by. It's almost as if it's an offence to walk anywhere or merely stand around. It also seems that the humble bicycle is frowned upon. This is Moto Town, or Motown if you will.

Truck luck

Now, if you ask me what Puerto Asís's unique selling point is, well outside of what I've already described, I struggle to come up with anything. The town itself has no outstanding landmarks and there isn't much on the must-do/visit list.

What's more, the closest water courses, the Putumayo and Cocaya rivers, don't entice one in for a dip. Quite a shame that, considering the heat. Also, the sands on the Putumayo River's banks are inviting, so it's unfortunate its waters don't follow suit.

It's even on the more expensive side when it comes to my BBC (beer, bread, coffee) staples — more expensive than Bogotá's working-class barrios that is. This, though, isn't unusual. Unlike in some other countries, Colombia's capital is cheaper for certain essentials compared to the country's provincial towns. (A special mention to Panadería Mickey, all the same. It offers a decent enough tinto, small black coffee, for a very reasonable 1,200 pesos.)

My most eventful moment was seeing the efforts of a few lorry drivers trying to free a truck stuck in the aforementioned sands of the Putumayo River. The episode did merit a YouTube Shorts video.

Chasing La Chorrera

My visit to Puerto Asís was to use it as a departure point to go by river to La Chorrera, the Roger Casement village as I call it, deep in the Amazon.

Alas, trying to get to La Chorrera from Puerto Asís by boat proved complicated and costly. In fact, it's more straightforward and currently cheaper to fly from San José del Guaviare. From a carbon footprint perspective, the flights might have a bigger impact but I did try to take the more environmentally friendly option. If only the most vociferous climate activists were more like me, eh?

Others may visit or pass through Puerto Asís for similar reasons i.e. to get a taste of the Amazon jungle by boat. And there are more hassle-free places to get to than the isolated La Chorrera. So as a river-port town close to Ecuador and within two days' boat ride of Peru, Puerto Asís is probably an unavoidable town for certain travellers. That it has countless hotels and motels is evidence of that.

Nonetheless, few seem to stay in the town for longer than necessary. A day or two at most.

The nine days I spent in Puerto Asís were less of a ringing endorsement of the place and more a reflection of my current 'wherever I am is my home' state of mind.

However, if I had to base myself in Puerto Asís for an indefinite time, I'd have no complaints about that. I can cope with its caliente air.
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Remembering Casement's Colombian connection

It's fair to say that the name Roger Casement means very little, if nothing at all, for the vast majority of Colombians. There's no surprise in that really, especially considering that in his native Ireland, despite Casement being one of the most written-about figures from the 1916 Rising period, his life isn’t the best known among the masses.

From the 2012 event in La Chorrera, remembering Casement's report (photo from Fucai).

For those completely in the dark, before his more controversial involvement in the Irish republican movement which ended in his execution by the British in 1916, the Dublin-born diplomat carried out what could be described as pioneering work in the field of human rights, both in the Congo and South America.

This is where the Colombian connection comes into play. It was during his time as a British consul in Rio de Janeiro that he undertook an investigation into reports of maltreatment of indigenous tribes by a British-registered Peruvian rubber enterprise, Peruvian Amazon Company (PAC), deep in the Amazon jungle.

In 1910 Casement made the first of two lengthy visits to the greater Putumayo region on the Colombian-Peruvian border where the abuses were taking place. What he found happening there was truly shocking. 

Not only were indigenous forced into unpaid labour by PAC employees, but they were also subjected to severe physical abuse such as the use of pillories, branding and whipping. Thousands were murdered, many at the hands of PAC station chiefs, while indigenous women and girls were victims of rape.

Casement's report of these horrific crimes caused outrage in Britain when the details were made public. It also signalled, in some ways, the beginning of the end for the Peruvian Amazon Company (other, external factors in rubber production also played their part in PAC's eventual collapse). 

Such was the extent and significance of Casement's investigation, he received a knighthood from the King in 1911. Alas, it wasn't enough to save him from the hangman's noose five years later, when he was convicted of treason, sabotage and espionage against the same British Crown for his involvement in the Irish independence struggle.

That tragic end notwithstanding, Casement's heroic work on behalf of the Putumayo Indians is something that has been and continues to be celebrated and remembered. 

For example, in 2012 hundreds of indigenous peoples from the region attended a celebration for the 100th anniversary of Casement's report.

What’s more, Ruth Chaparro, director of Fundación Caminos de Identitad (Fucai), a Colombian NGO working with and for the country’s indigenous, continues to see the importance of Casement’s contribution to highlighting human rights violations. 

She believes the meticulous and dedicated nature of Casement's investigations and reports are a great example to all human rights activists in how to carry out analysis of such abuses and how to ensure reports are rigorous enough to help bring about change.

With that in mind, as this coming 03 August marks the centenary of Casement’s execution, a commemorative event is being held in the village of La Chorrera, deep in the Colombian Amazon. 

It’s being organised by indigenous peoples there in collaboration with the Irish-born barrister, academic and indigenous activist, Brendan Tobin, who for the past ten years has been planning to visit the region.

For Tobin, it's a case of following in Casement's footsteps as he hopes to visit a number of the communities that suffered at the hands of PAC. Tobin sees the trip not just as an opportunity to celebrate Casement’s legacy but more importantly as a chance to highlight the continuing threat to the natives posed by trade and advancement towards modernity. 

The abuses of the rubber industry may be a thing of the past, but the Amazon's indigenous continue to face exploitation in other ways. (Quite pertinent at a time when Colombian officialdom finalises terms to sign a peace deal with the Farc leftist guerrillas.)

Forced labour: Indigenous carrying rubber (photo courtesy of Fucai, Colombia).

To mark the event, Ireland's president, Michael D. Higgins, has been invited to send a letter to the indigenous to be read out at the ceremony, which takes place in the environs of La Chorrera's Casa de Conocimiento (House of Remembrance), the indigenous school on the grounds of what was once the headquarters of the infamous PAC in the region.

Tobin himself hopes to raise enough funds to have a bust erected in honour of Casement in the secluded Amazon outpost. For the moment, as part of the ceremony, he is going to present the locals with a personal copy of The Amazon Journal of Roger Casement, edited by Angus Mitchell, for inclusion in the local library.

Casement may be long gone — with his name tarnished for some due to subsequent actions after his human rights work — yet the good he did for the Amazon's indigenous cannot be merely swept aside. 

As Tobin puts it, Casement serves as something of a focal point around which the people of the Amazon and Putumayo can gather to discuss, share and collectively seek a way to heal from a horrid past that still resonates. The La Chorrera memorial allows another opportunity to do just that.
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For a previous piece on Irish-Colombian links, see With O’Leary in Bogotá.

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