Colombiano

by Rusty Young

  I was planning to live with Camila in Bogotá, at least until she finished university. In addition to the compulsory demobilisation classes, I was completing my final year of high school in order to receive the graduation certificate.

  Once Camila had finished her degree, if she wanted to look for work in Bogotá, I would apply for university. However, I’d apply for Agricultural Economics, a course that would be useful for my true calling – running our finca. I knew Papá had wanted me to study business, but I made my own decisions now.

  ‘You’re being selfish, Pedro,’ continued Palillo. ‘You mightn’t need money, but your mother does. She could buy that neighbouring property and retire.’

  Personally, I’d have been happy simply to be able to afford a few cattle. Mamá was still living alone on our finca, but without my income she had to catch a colectivo each day to work part-time at Uncle’s hardware store.

  ‘My mother is fine,’ I insisted.

  ‘Then do it for your friends. You owe me, hermano. This will solve all our problems. You can pay your university tuition. Ñoño can buy his mother a house. Coca-Cola can hire the best surgeon for his shattered knee. I won’t even have to do acting school. I can buy a movie studio and star in my own production!’

  ‘What if we run into a patrol?’

  Although Caraquemada had been sighted in the faraway province of Neiva, the Guerrilla still used those mountains and rivers as supply routes.

  ‘Exactly. That’s why we go as a team.’

  Of course, Palillo eventually wore me down. Which is why, three months after our mission against Caraquemada, I found myself in the middle of the jungle, back at the former laboratory, which had been dismantled and burned by the army.

  We’d trekked arduously all day through the humid, insect-infested jungle. I was soaked with sweat and my muscles ached from carrying a heavy, rain-drenched pack. Not surprisingly, we had encountered no guerrilleros.

  Now, as Palillo whipped the ‘guaca map’ from his pocket, he buoyed my spirits by describing how our lives were about to change.

  ‘I’ll have an SUV with tinted windows. You can buy Camila a golf-ball-sized diamond ring to replace that plastic one. I’ll put one of my apartments in my sister’s name so my mother can receive money from the rent.’

  From the starting coordinates, we followed the bearing for nine hundred metres towards the spot marked ‘X’ on the map, worrying all the while that we’d veer off course and end up digging in the wrong place.

  ‘There!’ Palillo pointed, laughing. We had indeed deviated, but the ‘Hug X’ was a literal symbol, unmistakable when we saw it. Two trees had fallen towards each other, coming to rest with their trunks crossing. They looked like they were hugging.

  Using a tape measure, I paced exactly twenty-seven metres east of the trees. Then, sharing the tiny shovel, we took it in turns to break the earth, as we had on the day of Papá’s execution, until blisters appeared on our hands.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ I said once our third hole was two metres deep. ‘I’m poor but happy. Let’s go home.’

  Suddenly, there was a dull thud as Palillo’s shovel struck something plastic. We exchanged a look and dropped to our knees to scoop away the remaining dirt that covered the lid of a large blue crate.

  GLOSSARY OF SPANISH TERMS AND SLANG

  abrazo

  hug

  adelante

  go! go ahead!

  agallas

  balls

  aguardiente

  aniseed-based liquor, literally ‘firewater’

  águila

  Colombian beer

  ajustícialo

  execute him

  auxiliar

  assistant/helper

  avenida

  avenue

  berraco

  tough, hard-working (slang)

  bloque

  unit

  borracho

  drunk

  brigada fuerzas especiales

  special forces brigade

  buenas tardes

  good afternoon

  buñuelos

  fried dough ball

  busetero

  bus worker

  caldo

  broth, soup

  caletas

  hidden compartment

  caliente

  hot

  camaradas

  comrades

  campesinos

  peasant farmers

  canasta

  basket or box

  capo

  drug boss

  Caracol

  TV/radio station in Colombia

  cariño

  dear (term of endearment)

  cédula

  national ID card

  cerveza

  beer

  chapa

  alias

  chica

  girl, chick

  chivas

  rural buses, literally ‘goats’

  cojones

  balls

  colectivo

  public mini-van

  colegio

  school

  comandante

  commander

  compa

  friend (abbreviation for compadre)

  compañero

  friend, colleague

  contrabandistas

  contraband traffickers

  corazón

  heart

  culo

  butt, bum, ass

  cursos

  fellow soldiers (slang)

  dale

  go! do it!

  dios mío

  my god!

  farándula

  celebrities

  finca

  farm, property

  frente

  guerrilla unit

  gallina/gallinita

  chicken/little chicken

  garrapata

  tick

  gente de bien

  good society

  gracias a dios

  thank god

  guaca

  buried treasure

  guerrillera

  female guerrilla soldier

  guerrillero

  male guerrilla soldier

  hermano

  brother

  hermosa

  pretty

  hijo

  son

  hijo de puta/hijueputa

  son of a whore, son of a bitch

  jefe

  boss, chief

  joder

  fuck!

  jodido

  fucked

  joven

  young man

  lancha

  motorised boat

  lárguese

  get out of here

  lechona

  stuffed pork dish

  limpieza

  cleaning, cleansing

  loco

  lunatic

  loro

  parrot

  lotería

  lottery

  mala

  bad

  mierda

  shit

  mijito

  my little son (abbreviation for mi hijito)

  milicianos

  militia member

  mi querido

  my dear

  monte

  mountain

  mosqueteros

  musketeers

  muchacho

  boy

  mulata

  brown-skinned woman

  novias

  girlfriends

  oiga

  listen! hey!

  parqueadero

  parking lot

  pasteles

  sweets

  patrón

  boss, chief

  pelado

  boy

  pendejo

  dickhead

  perras

  bitches

  pillado

  busted

  planazos

  strikes with flat side of machete

  plata

  money

  políti
cos

  politicians

  pollo

  chicken

  por dios

  for god’s sake

  princesas intocables

  untouchable princesses

  punto

  point guard/lookout

  pura mierda

  bullshit

  puta

  whore

  puta madre

  fucking hell

  puteadero

  whorehouse

  qué bueno

  great!

  quiebrapatas

  landmines (slang)

  ráfagas

  burst of gunfire

  rápido

  quick

  raspachín

  coca leaf picker (slang)

  reggaetón

  rap music from Puerto Rico

  sapo

  toad (slang for ‘informant’)

  señorito

  (invented word)

  socio/a

  romantic partner (guerrilla slang)

  soldado

  soldier

  suba

  get in, get up

  suegro

  father-in-law

  supermercado

  supermarket

  taxista

  taxi driver

  tinto

  coffee

  tiro de gracia

  coup de grâce

  traficante

  trafficker

  urbano

  member of urban militia

  vacuna

  guerrilla tax, literally ‘vaccine’

  vallenato

  type of Colombian music

  vámonos/vamos

  let’s go

  vereda

  rural village, settlement

  viejo

  old man (slang)

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Readers see one name on the front cover, but not the silent army of supporters, hidden (and often long-suffering) between the pages.

  My first debt of gratitude is to the dozens of child soldiers and members of the FARC, AUC and ELN who opened up and trusted me, often at great risk to themselves. Special thanks to ‘Alias Pedro’, ‘Alias MacGyver’, Jader, ‘Alias Tarzan’, Lenis, Abel, Andrea, Yineth, Diana and Leidy. To the many others – you know who you are and the reasons you can’t be named.

  To my friends and colleagues in the anti-kidnapping program, particularly JJ, Jorge Matallana and Tim Bulot, as well as the members of the Colombian National Police and Army whose bravery and patriotism helped their country turn the corner after a dark period in history, but who also wished to remain ‘off the record’.

  The biggest thanks by far, and my eternal gratitude, go to Simone Camilleri, who has been my literary agent, editor, story consultant, honest critic, believer in my ability and, dare I admit, sometimes co-author of this book, but above all else a caring friend. Her creativity, imagination, grasp of story and pace, as well as her assistance with plotting and deepening of the characters, made this book what it is.

  To my beautiful sister, Rani, and wonderful parents, Marie and Peter, for their love, belief in me, patience as well as practical and financial support. Muchas gracias for helping your adolescent son, with pretensions of one day being a writer, become a middle-aged struggling artist, once more living back at home!

  Huge love goes to Bradley Fraser, treasured friend and Tuesday-night confidant, who loaned me his ironing board as a desk, as well as a copy of his house key, and who provided open-ended, unconditional support. To my bestest of best friends, Scooter McGregor, sage advisor and critical reader, for his undying loyalty, open writer’s house in Mumbai, and for keeping me on an even mental keel.

  To the Fosters, whose ‘Writer’s Shed’ and hospitality were given generously for many years. To Daniel Toomey, friend since childhood, for helping me visualise this project, for his beach house refuge and incredible website support.

  I would also like to extend my warmest gratitude to everyone who read and commented on the manuscript over the years. Particular thanks go to Brian Camilleri, Sergio Barbosa and Ralph Glenny, who spent countless hours giving discerning and insightful feedback, and also to Enzo Congiu, Lucy Hughes, Mireille and Gary Hennessey, Orlando Savage, Carlo Giacco, Aiying Law, Cobie Dellicastelli and Isolde Martyn. Your detailed comments were greatly appreciated and helped polish the novel. Thanks also to John Purcell for sharing his wealth of knowledge about the publishing industry. Simone would also like to thank the members of the Turramurra Writers Group for their support.

  To Rebecca Reed, personal cheerleader, amazing friend, and deliverer of soup, who always lent a sympathetic ear and provided a constant fount of laughter. To my gorgeous friend Belinda Pratten, for believing in me, reading many terrible drafts, and for her incredible humanitarian work in Colombia that inspired me to make a difference. To Toby Loneragan for planting seeds and playing with ideas. To Stella Duque, Steve Fisher and Greg Preuss for their dedication to helping child soldiers.

  To Beverley Cousins, editor extraordinaire, for her talented, professional judgment, for shaping and cutting the story, and for gently removing my overwritten metaphors! Almost as importantly, for her unerring support, diplomacy and patience with an erratic writer who missed several deadlines and tended to disappear overseas to work on ‘unrelated projects’ at a moment’s notice. To Nikki Christer, who championed the book and took a chance on me. To Brandon VanOver, my copy-editor, for his hard work, incredible attention to detail, and his eagle eye that spotted my many errors. To Jem Butcher – what an amazing cover design! To Jess Malpass for her dedicated campaigning and promotion, and to the wonderful team at Penguin Random House, whose passion and enthusiasm helped this book make its way into readers’ hands. My apologies for giving you all grey hairs, but glad you’re still smiling (I think).

  Finally, to mis parceros colombianos: Don R. Escritor, Thomas McFadden, Vampiro Niels, Heals, Yency, Martha, Dan, Houses, Boyzy, German, Ali, AJ & Carrie, Giles, Carolina, Clare, Andre, Astrid, Consuelo, Sole, Matt, Maria, Rich & Diana, Pinky, Tom, Jordan, Jules, Carrie, Nando, and the crazy Bogotá combo.

  And to the Sydney crew – John Pease, Alina, Mez, Rom, Bunk, Pen, Colonel D. Rothwell, Jules & Megs, Gui & Edwina, Bally, Damo & Poss, Dean, Simona, Rhys, Llewellyn, Marcus, Kath, Burge, Chris, Piers & Nirmal, Sam, Ed & Jules and Caz – as well as the many other friends and fans who believed in me, read my shitty drafts and kept asking, ‘When will it be finished?’ while never doubting it would be.

  Simone Camilleri would like to extend her warmest thanks to her parents, Brian and Adrienne Camilleri, who inspired her love of reading, nurtured her creativity and who always encouraged her to dream. And, most importantly, she would like to thank her husband, Sergio Barbosa, for the unwavering love and the joy he brings into her life, his practical support and the countless hours he spent reading and providing insightful comments on the manuscript, and his extraordinary patience during the many years devoted to this project.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RUSTY YOUNG is the author of the international bestseller Marching Powder, the story of a British drug-smuggler who was incarcerated in Bolivia’s notorious San Pedro prison.