Mingling with Colombia's killers

@wwaycorrigan

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

'You know, I'm a paraco now.'

That's what a 25-year-old acquaintance, let's call him Juan — not his real name — told me when I was reunited with him in March of this year in Santandercito, the barrio in the far north of Bogotá in which I normally reside whenever I'm in Colombia's capital.

AGC presente: Autodefensas Gaitanistas de Colombia, aka Clan del Golfo, is Colombia's largest paramilitary group. 

Pawn of the paracos

Juan offered this information to me after I told him that I'd just spent the last few months in San Martín, Meta, an area said to be largely controlled by paracos.

These paracos, Colombia's paramilitaries, originally came into being in the 1960s as a counterpoint to the guerrillas. Both groups can trace their origins to left versus right political ideologies, nominally at least, but today they're all just effectively gangland criminals vying to control the cocaine trade and other illegal activities.

Just over eight weeks after Juan — whom I'd known since 2016 when he was a happy-go-lucky teenager — told me of his employment, he was shot dead. It was a planned hit. Loved ones left behind include an inconsolable mother, a shattered stepfather, and heartbroken brothers, people with whom I have shared many enjoyable moments in Santandercito over the last ten years.

Neither Juan's telling me that he was a paraco nor his tragic demise surprised me much, however.

I'd suspected for the last few years that he was involved in dodgy dealings of some sort.

In fact, he and another young man and friend-of-sorts of mine from the barrio, a guy I'll call José — again, not his real name — were sent away for a few months to a paraco training camp in the Antioquia department some time back. So the story goes. I did ask both of them, separately, to divulge a little more information about this camp, but it was never forthcoming. Although José didn't completely rule out doing so. I stopped asking after a while, though.

'A paraco he may have been, but he was no more than a pawn for greater powers. He was certainly no capo dei capi, that much is now clear.'

On their return to Barrio Santandercito, I noticed Juan's behaviour change. A harder, meaner edge came to replace the cheerfulness he had previously displayed in abundance. José, in contrast, has remained largely easygoing. He is that way towards me anyway.

Juan began to give off an air of invincibility. The way he strutted around the barrio was as if he thought he were a feared mafia boss. Now, a paraco he may have been, but he was no more than a pawn for greater powers. He was certainly no capo dei capi, that much is now clear.

In a journal entry the day after Juan told me of his paraco status, I noted that ill winds could soon be blowing his way, owing to his cocky behaviour. Only those truly in control could get away with such posturing. But even the bigwigs are brought back down to size at some stage.

Those ill winds did blow Juan's way. And with fatal force.

José was with Juan on the night he was shot dead, Friday 29 May, on a footpath on Calle 188 with Carrera 16, in the Verbenal barrio of Bogotá, just a few blocks away from Santandercito. José wasn't harmed, not physically anyway.

Mowing down Mauricio

On the day of Juan's burial, I was told by a somewhat reliable source in Santandercito that both Juan and José were the ones sent to kill another acquaintance of mine in this part of Bogotá, the affable Mauricio, a man who ran a number of tienda bars in Verbenal. Mauricio was murdered in April 2025.

His crime, so it goes, was to sell cocaine, which he got from his own sources. That is to say, he didn't get his white powder from the gang that is said to control the underworld in the greater Verbenal area.

My Santandercito source told me that Juan, recognised as a talented motorbike operator, rode the bike used to take José to Mauricio. José, as the better marksman, fired the weapon. That's the conjecture doing the rounds in the barrio. We'll probably never know for sure. And it's something I'm not too keen to ask José about, not directly anyway.

The cost of crime

Over the last few years, I had heard that José regularly got on the wrong side of some of his superiors. At one stage, he was apparently forbidden from entering Santandercito. If somebody had said to me two years ago that just one of either Juan or José would be soon gunned down, I would have thought that José would face that fate. Although, as I mentioned, Juan's behaviour in recent months would have led me to change my thinking.

Seeing as how José was with Juan on the night of his murder, in a location seen as close to ideal to carry out such a hit, there is speculation that José had some part to play in it. That he sold out his partner in crime to protect himself. Again, it's all hearsay.

The chances of us ever finding out exactly what happened on the night Juan was gunned down are slim.

It's unlikely there'll be any thorough investigation carried out. The general approach by Colombia's authorities when it comes to gangland murders is that as long as they're killing each other, then it's not a major concern. That's how it appears, anyway. 'Let them knock themselves out.'

The old adage that crime doesn't pay was certainly the case for Juan. The ones who do make big bucks out of criminality in Colombia tend not to get their hands bloodied and are fairly well protected. The paraco pawns, on the other hand, are very much dispensable.
__________________________________________________________
Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

As Bog(otá)-standard as it gets

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

While I don't think I'm at the same obsessive-compulsive level as Melvin Udall, Jack Nicholson's misanthropic character in the 1997 film As Good as It Gets, I can get rather annoyed if certain aspects of my daily routine change without my advanced knowledge.

Pandemic life would have been a whole lot duller without this corona to rely on.

Corona café

In fact, akin to Melvin, I'm known to become quite cranky when there are changes at my panadería (bakery/café) office. (As an aside, in my childhood days, it was Nicholson's Jack Napier/Joker character in the 1989 Batman film that I thought my adult life would most closely mimic. I guess there's still time for that.)

After a few, um, difficult weeks in the aftermath of the tumultuous temporary closure to facilitate a new administration at my old panadería office, Vicky's, I managed to find a replacement establishment that satisfied my modest needs — La Corona Real (no, not that corona) in the barrio in which I currently reside, Verbenal.

To be honest, even when Vicky's was number one, I had been using La Corona Real as a secondary option — I'm not completely averse to spicing things up every now and again, you know.

'It would most likely be a positive development if my daily frequenting of the panadería office was curtailed somewhat.'

However, the latter's tendency for a high turnover of table-service staff — meseras as they say here (and they are almost exclusively women) — put it at a disadvantage.

While my dark coffee with a drop of milk in an actual ceramic cup ('un tinto con una gota de leche en pocillo' in Spanish) may not seem like the most absurd request, for many panadería employees here it does actually appear to be something unheard of. It's either a 50-50 coffee-milk mix or 100 per cent coffee with a disposable cup the default option, no deviations.

Stagflation

Nonetheless, with a little patience and gentle instruction, there is a way. Also, and crucially, for the last few months, there had been continuity in terms of those at the coalface, nay the coffee machine — the aforementioned table servers. 

Thus, I hadn't had to explain from scratch every second week how I like my brew. I hadn't had to, that is.

Change, though, does come, whether we like it or not. And very often it can be dramatic.

Where the creative juices flow (at times).

OK, the comings and goings of panadería staff aren't quite on the Vladimir Ilyich Lenin level of change —  'There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.' — but it's all relative, isn't it?

One could cope with the departure of one or two of the mesera team of six or so, but when all bar one move on at the same time, well that's a shock to the system.

Cushioning this blow somewhat is that the girl who remains, Wendy, originally from the Venezuelan state of Táchira — a gocha as they call them — is top-notch. She's been a great help in getting the newbies up to speed on my particular, not-terribly-demanding wants. (Another plus point for Wendy is that she, whisper it, gave me the password for the establishment's WiFi on the sly. What the middle-aged brothers who own the place don't know, won't kill them.)

That aside, truth be told — it's something this blog always seeks to do, tell the truth — it would most likely be a positive development if my daily frequenting of the panadería office was curtailed somewhat. It would probably mean that I got a job that required my physical presence elsewhere. What a novelty that would be, eh?

For as much as the Bogotá-standard — be it the panadería or the tienda — has helped keep one sane throughout the pandemic, its continued regular use could be seen as a sign of stagnation. Or, more appropriately considering the general state of affairs, stagflation.

So one likes to think this isn't as good as it gets. It's pretty mediocre if it is.
_______________________________________________________________
Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

 

Christening conservative Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'I'm glad to see that all of the children being baptised today have been given saints' names.' 

That was the opinion of the priest who presided over a recent group christening that I attended in Bogotá's Verbenal neighbourhood.

'Do as I say, not as I do.'

Name of shame

The authoritarian, haughty man of the cloth — I thought the Catholic Church's foot soldiers were meant to act more humbly these days? — had been, um, pontificating about some of the more bizarre names people give their offspring nowadays (in between berating attendees, people who had paid good money for a service in which they were being talked down to, for glancing at their phones and allowing their children to wander about the outdoor gathering).

Apparently, so Padre Wilson informed us, somebody was christened Covid of late. I agree with him on the silliness of that one — although if he (or she, I'm not sure) goes on to hold the world to ransom despite being quite a weak individual all things considered, well then it will be an apt name.

That aside, the priest's line may help to explain why Colombians tend to be rather conservative when it comes to naming their children. 

With the odd exception, something we discussed in a Bogotá Nights episode, name-giving here follows very traditional lines. In contrast, one only needs to look at neighbouring Venezuela to find a more, let's say adventurous attitude to this whole area.

Colombia's conservative approach fits in nicely with the nation's overall psyche. As I've touched on before, someone who might be seen as a leftist liberal in these parts would be considered as being on the other side of the political spectrum in many other countries.

'Listening to Padre Wilson belittle the congregation at the baptism was like a primary school teacher addressing unruly yet naive pupils.'

What's more, there is often unquestioning respect for figures of authority. Like Ireland up until a couple of generations ago, what the Catholic Church says here carries considerable weight, outside of affairs in the bedroom that is.

Toe the line

Listening to Padre Wilson belittle the congregation at the baptism was like a primary school teacher addressing unruly yet naive pupils. 'Follow my lead and you'll be saved, little ones.'

With heads bowed in shame, the flock accepted its shortcomings. Father knows best. (And to underscore this superiority, the seven families in attendance, each having already paid for the christening, were encouraged to hand over more cash when the collection basket was passed around. Great work if you can get it.)

Of course, actions speak louder than words and all that. It's not like the majority of Colombians are pious Christians, even if they are still genuine believers in Christ. It's more a case that the less taxing, what we could call more superficial elements of the Church's teachings are, um, religiously followed. With that, very few seem willing to go against the power-wielders, even if it may be in their interests to do so.

On a broader societal level, every now and again we'll have protest movements. At times it even feels like something might change. Yet with the same energy and speed with which they start, they also peter out. The reality is that there seems little genuine enthusiasm to alter the status quo, despite what might be said.

Compliant, conservative Colombia dominates. Change is fraught with danger. It's best not to do it.

Remember, it's not just the crazy names that you risk importing from Venezuela. It might start innocently enough with a Geoberty or a Rolangeli or the like, but where would it all end? Father knows best indeed.
_______________________________________________________________
Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Will Javier Ordóñez's death mark a turning point for Colombia?

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'In the same way we condemn police abuse, we also condemn the violence and vandalism carried out by some protesters. Abuse and violence are not solved by more violence.'

So Bogotá Mayor Claudia López tweeted in response to a night of deadly protests across the Colombian capital that left at least nine people dead and saw over 50 police stations as well as a number of city buses and other buildings vandalised and burnt to cinders.

The protests were a reaction to the death of Javier Ordóñez, a 44-year-old unarmed civilian who was pinned to the ground and tasered for over a minute by two police officers on the night of Tuesday, 8th of September.

The incident was filmed by an onlooker and quickly went viral. While the exact details as to why Mr Ordóñez was stopped by the police remain unknown, it is believed he had been drinking in a house with friends and had gone out to get some more alcohol when he was met by the officers.

In the video, he can be heard pleading various times for the tasering to stop but it continues until a couple of other police officers arrive. He's then taken away to a nearby station where he allegedly receives more abuse that eventually leads to his death.

The Minister for Defence's announcing of a full internal investigation did little to quell the growing outrage in a country that tends to have little trust in its police force.

The vigil organised the next day in the neighbourhood where Mr Ordóñez was attacked was replicated across Bogotá, mostly in working-class areas, with the focal point for each being the local police station, small rapid response centres as they are (known as CAI, Centro de Atención Inmediata).

In my own neighbourhood (Verbenal), in the far north of the metropolis, 25 kilometres from where Mr Ordóñez lived, the gathering started off largely peacefully, similar to what happened elsewhere. 

No more than 20 people blocked one lane of traffic outside the police station which was manned by two officers. Banging pots in the trademark cacerolazo non-violent protest, they chanted 'murderers' and other anti-police slogans.

It wasn't long before a group of youths, mostly male, joined. With their arrival, came the use of physical force in the shape of launching stones and other rudimentary missiles at the well-protected police station — these stations were built to survive bomb blasts, so a few stones barely left a mark on the large reinforced windows. 

Nonetheless, the attack turned into a constant barrage as the number of protesters grew significantly, with attempts made to set the building alight.

With similar incidents occurring elsewhere, reinforcements for the stranded pair of police officers were slow to arrive. But arrive they did, about 20 on motorbikes. 

They managed to push back the protesters and secure the station. What ensued was an ugly stand-off with projectiles being fired in both directions amidst the occasional gunshot, which we assume came from the police.

After hours of attack and counter-attack, the outnumbered officers eventually had to abandon the small station, which was later torched.

Mourners surround the temporary shrine in honour of one of the dead protesters.

The net result at this particular stand-off was three dead protesters to add to the other deaths elsewhere in the city.

Mayor López's — Colombia's most vociferous anti-corruption politician who attracts much liberal support — subsequent call for calm and purely peaceful protests has been largely followed bar a few small but no less destructive incidents in some sectors of Bogotá, as well as in a number of other major cities in the country.

The focus is now turning to what kind of police reform, if any, will be forthcoming.

It's fair to say that most Colombians agree that better training is fundamental to changing the force's attitude in a country with a fairly low level of basic education across the  board. 

There's a widespread belief that many officers use unnecessary force far too often. According to official sources, before this week's violence, there were already over 130 reports of police abuse in Bogotá this year alone. The idea that the horrific abuse suffered by Javier Ordóñez was a rare event doesn't wash with many.

Right now, however, with centre-right President Iván Duque from a party that has had as its motto 'mano firme, corazón grande' — 'firm hand, big heart' — there's a concern in more liberal quarters that he and his administration focus too much on the former and very little on the latter.

The family of the late Mr Ordóñez, as well as Mayor López, have spoken of their hope that his death will be the catalyst for meaningful reform of state forces. 

Those who have been following Colombia for years will be forgiven for being less than optimistic of that being realised.