by Austin Galt
The ELN would use their influence in the oil producing zones to exert control over the election process. They manipulated whoever became the elected representatives of the region through threats and intimidation. The elected officials would then spend their allocation of oil revenues according to the wishes of the guerrillas.
Despite the resurgence of the ELN, several splinter groups formed from their ranks.
The Ejército Revolucionario del Pueblo (ERP) or People’s Revolutionary Army broke away in 1996 due to differences of opinion with the ELN leaders. They mostly operated in the mountainous regions to the west of Bogotá before demobilising in 2007 after their leader was killed in a military operation.
The Ejército Revolucionario Guevarista (ERG) or Guevarista Revolutionary Army split from the ELN in 1993, claiming they were not radical enough. As the name suggests, they were inspired by Che Guevara. They generally operated in Chocó, reaching a peak of over 400 guerrillas before demobilising in 2008 with just 45 fighters.
The Corriente de Renovación Socialista (CRS) or Socialist Renovation Current broke away from the ELN in order to continue the peace negotiations that were taking place between the government and other guerrilla groups. They preferred a political solution as opposed to a military one. The CRS essentially came from the ranks of those guerrillas from the MIR–PL which merged with the ELN in the late 1980s, changing the name of the guerrilla group to Unión Camilista–ELN (UC–ELN). Over 850 CRS guerrillas demobilised in 1994.
Peace talks between the various guerrilla groups really started taking shape in the late 1980s. The Coordinadora Guerrillera Simón Bolívar (CGSB) or Simón Bolívar Guerrilla Coordinator was formed in 1987 and served as an umbrella group of guerrilla organisations, including the FARC, ELN, EPL, M-19, MAQL and PRT. All agreed to peace at various stages, except for the FARC and ELN who chose to continue their armed struggle. The CGSB was dissolved in 1991.
The ELN reached its peak in the mid-1990s, with a fighting force of over 4000 guerrillas. With Gabino assuming the leadership in 1998, they became even more notorious for their actions which included attacks and kidnappings.
On 18 October 1998, in the early hours of the morning, a small group of ELN guerrillas dynamited Colombia’s central pipeline near the village of Machuca in the municipality of Segovia, Antioquia. As oil spilled into the nearby river that surrounds the village, the guerrillas then blew up the bridge, which ignited the oil in the river. It was like a massive bomb suddenly exploding and the whole town was shortly engulfed in flames. With the bridge gone there was no escape. Over 50 people were burned to death, many of them children, while over 40 houses were destroyed.
On 30 May 1999, around 200 parishioners were attending Sunday mass at the Iglesia La Maria or The Maria Church in the Ciudad Jardín neighbourhood of Cali, when ELN guerrillas, dressed as military officers, entered the church announcing a bomb threat and that the parishioners needed to evacuate. They were escorted outside and into two trucks which then drove up into the Farallones mountain range. The first person to notice something was wrong was killed. Fear then gripped the rest of the hostages as they began to realise what was happening. With the police in pursuit, the kidnappers released over half of the congregation by the side of the road. The rest were taken up into the mountains where many remained captive for up to six months.
It was the biggest mass kidnapping in Colombian history. The next month a big march was held in Cali protesting NO MÁS! or NO MORE! The marches were duplicated in other cities around the country. The authors of the kidnapping, including ELN leader Gabino, were later sentenced in absentia to 38 years in jail – a sentence unlikely to ever be served.
The nightmare for kidnapping victims doesn’t end once they are released. There is often no help in returning to a normal life and their lives are often turned upside down. Small business owners lose their businesses while debts mount up, adding to the depression and anxiety of victims.
As the ELN headed into the 21st century, its power started to wane under pressure from the Colombian military which was strengthened by Plan Colombia. Right-wing paramilitaries also hit them hard, while territorial disputes with the FARC arose. Still, they refused to agree to terms of peace negotiations throughout the years and they continue on, albeit with a fighting force at least half of what there was at their pinnacle. Revenue from drug trafficking, oil extortion and kidnappings continues to fund their existence.
In September 2003, guerrillas kidnapped tourists near La Ciudad Perdida in the Sierra Nevada after surprising them as they slept in the early hours of the morning. They took eight tourists from nations including England, Israel, Germany and Spain. Those left behind included some Australians who were trekking through the jungle wearing thongs! The guerrillas argued they would not be able to maintain a brisk pace. In hindsight, their choice of footwear was a stroke of genius.
While one of the Englishmen was able to escape by throwing himself down the side of a mountain, the remaining captives were held for three months before being released. Those who were left behind were locked in a cabin and told by the guerrillas that they had attached a bomb to the door which would blow up if opened. This was a ruse but it must have taken some courage and a leap of faith to open the door, which they eventually did. There have been no kidnappings on the route ever since, although it is rumoured that the tour operators pay the guerrillas protection money.
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By the time I arrived in Santa Marta, I was happy to just relax at the beach. I had walked the Inca Trail a few months before, so felt I had already had my fill of ancient ruins. Santa Marta is a touch hotter than Cartagena during the day but a beautiful mountain breeze comes in the evening as a welcome relief. The beach was pleasant enough but it still wasn’t the Caribbean paradise I was searching for. I would find that the following day.
Something I had picked up from Colombians is that they were always a little surprised after learning I had travelled through hotspots, such as in the south of the country. They told me they would never travel to such regions. It was perhaps because of my naivety and innocence that I travelled there myself. They, on the other hand, knew better.
The people were always friendly and welcoming. However, I noticed many didn’t like to talk too much about the conflict. Perhaps they were putting it out of their minds. Life was difficult enough without adding an extra layer of grief. There was a war going on inside their country but it often seemed a world away for them.
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The small fishing village of Taganga came into view as the taxi rounded the headland from Santa Marta. It is located in a lovely bay surrounded by steep hills, which are actually the north-western tip of the Sierra Nevada. While there were a couple of hotels down at the beachfront, I preferred some peace and quiet and hence elected to stay at an attractive casa or house a few blocks away. The owner had converted the top floor of the house into a few rooms for travellers. It was simple but comfortable and just an easy place to be. From the top-floor balcony, one could relax in a hammock and watch as the sun went down.
As I was organising myself a room in the little downstairs lobby, I noticed a stack of magazines and, after rummaging through them, one magazine stood out. It had a picture of the Rodríguez Orejuela brothers on the cover and featured an article about them and the Cali Cartel. My reading material had been selected.
After storing my belongings in my room, I plonked myself down in one of the hammocks and opened up the magazine. I flicked straight to the article on the Cali Cartel. It was a Colombian magazine and therefore written in Spanish. So, before attempting to read it, I first looked at all the photos that accompanied the article. And there it was . . . a photo showing one of Pedro’s relatives standing alongside the Rodriguez Orejuela brothers. Pedro had told me about his family as well as showing me photos, and I recognised the person immediately. They looked to be in a social setting and, upon reading the article, I found out the brothers were members of Cali’s A-list society.
The A-l
ist society is the same all over the world. People who have money mix in the same circles. The difference in Cali is that there are, obviously, many people who have acquired their money through cocaine trafficking. They may still be in the business or retired from it, having invested in legitimate businesses.
I must say I was relieved, in a way, to see the photo as it provided further evidence that Pedro was who he said he was and his stories from his cartel days were most probably true; they had seemed somewhat fantastical to me. Actually, the whole country seemed fantastical to me!
Feeling in sleuth mode, I decided to run an internet search on Pedro’s family name. I wondered why I didn’t do that in Cali. I guess I was preoccupied with other things! The search turned up an opinion piece from Cali’s El País newspaper lamenting the current state of economic affairs of América de Cali and yearning for a return to the golden era when the club was run by Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela and about four other men comprising the board of directors. One of those names listed was Pedro’s father who I had once met briefly when visiting the offices of his business. Everything Pedro had told me seemed to be stacking up.
Having settled in, I wandered down the dirt road leading to the beach, half of which was taken up by a flotilla of fishing boats that had already arrived back with the day’s catch. There were several small huts along the promenade which were little seafood restaurants. It was nearing lunchtime, so I sat down in one of the huts and was shortly attended to by a lady who brought out a tray of fish which she had purchased a few hours earlier. Each morning the fishermen would return with their catch and a little fish market would spring up on the beach where the local restaurant owners would buy what they needed for the day. The price was dependent on the size of the fish, but generally a dish would be around 10,000 pesos so about US$5. That included a portion of coconut rice and a patacón which is a flattened plátano verde or green plantain and is a staple of the Colombian diet. The lunch was delicious and combined with the atmosphere of this sleepy hamlet, I couldn’t have been happier to be there.
Around the next headland lay Playa Blanca or White Beach. It is only accessible by walking, which takes around 15 minutes, providing a good opportunity to walk off my lunch. I took a dip in the crystal clear waters, which was bliss. Feeling totally relaxed by the afternoon, I made my way back down to one of the huts and grabbed myself a beer. There was some vallenato playing, adding to the ambience.
Vallenato is a type of Colombian folk music and very popular in the coastal regions, especially in Santa Marta and Valledupar which is the city on the south-eastern side of the Sierra Nevada. Its unique sound comes from the use of a German accordion, and it is said the music began after bandits robbed a ship in port, containing a shipment of accordions. The accordions were then distributed throughout the coast and a new music genre was born.
Many of Colombia’s top vallenato stars are often sought after by the big narcos to play at their parties. They are to Colombian gangsters what mariachis are to Mexican gangsters. Some of Colombia’s biggest vallenato stars, past and present, include Carlos Vives, Diomedes Díaz and Rafael Orozco. All of them have been involved in scandals to varying degrees.
Carlos Vives was born in Santa Marta but moved to Bogotá just as he was entering his teens. He hit the big time in 1991 when he landed the leading role of vallenato composer, Rafael Escalona, in the television series, Escalona. The show was a massive success. A couple of years later, Vives teamed up with the band La Provincia to produce a vallenato fusion album mixing the traditional music with rock and pop. This caused outrage among many vallenato purists but it received great acclaim, winning Best Album at the Billboard Latin Music Awards.
He has generally been free of scandal except for one time. In 2004, the US Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) released a previously compiled list of all suspected drug traffickers throughout the world. Carlos Vives appeared on the list. Through intelligence sources from the early 1990s, it noted Carlos Vives is:
A Colombian actor involved in narcotics trafficking who has worked with his uncle, Ignacio Vives Echavarria, a politician and the current (1990-1992) Mayor of Santa Marta, Colombia. Ignacio Vives was previously sentenced for corruption and is a well-known north coast narcotics trafficker in the service of the Medellín Cartel.
These reports have never been verified.
Carlos Vives, hurt and embarrassed by the allegations, responded by releasing a letter to the public titled, ‘El marimbero sin marimba’ or ‘The drug dealer without drugs’. His career quickly overcame the scandal and to this day he continues to be one of the country’s leading entertainers.
Arguably Colombia’s biggest ever vallenato star is Diomedes Díaz, nicknamed ‘El Cacique de La Junta’ or ‘The Chieftain of La Junta’ in honour of his home town of La Junta in La Guajira. While still a teenager in the mid-1970s, he moved to Valledupar where he formed a vallenato band, achieving fame with the song ‘La Negra y Cantor Campesino’ (‘The Black Woman and Peasant Singer’).
Diomedes Díaz’s life took a turn for the worse on 14 May 1997 when a girlfriend, 22-year-old Doris Adriana Niño, died after consuming a lot of cocaine during a party at his Bogotá apartment. Her body was found dumped outside of the city. Díaz was later arrested and charged over the death but subsequently went on the run for two years in which time he was convicted and sentenced to 12 years jail for her unintentional homicide
After turning himself over to authorities, he successfully appealed the conviction which was downgraded to involuntary manslaughter while his original sentence was greatly reduced. Despite protests from Doris Adriana Niño’s family, Díaz was released on parole a couple of years later in November 2004.
Díaz didn’t go scandal-free after that, however. In 2005, he was incorrectly accused of consuming cocaine on stage during a concert in Cali and was briefly banned from any future performances in the city. In 2012, he was involved in a near-fatal car crash after he was allegedly driving drunk having ordered his chauffeur to give him the keys. The crash was blamed on a cow being in the middle of the highway. He was badly injured and lucky to survive.
The end of the road came on 22 December 2013 when Diomedes Díaz died from what many suspected to be a cocaine overdose. However, an autopsy revealed that he had died of natural causes due to cardiovascular problems and that only a small amount of cocaine was found in his system. The lauded and flawed vallenato legend was gone, but his music lives on.
Díaz composed the song ‘Cariñito de Mi Vida’ (‘Little Love of My Life’), to be sung by his school friend Rafael Orozco who was an up-and-coming vallenato singer. Orozco went on to become another of Colombia’s great vallenato stars, forming the popular band Binomio de Oro de América.
While celebrating his daughter’s 15th birthday on 11 June 1992, Orozco went out to talk to a couple of his trusted men on the porch of his house in a wealthy suburb of Barranquilla. There he was set upon by a sicario, who fired multiple times, killing the singer. The killer then fled the scene in a getaway car.
It was said the murder was due to an extramarital affair Orozco was having with a young girl. The mother of the girl had objected to the affair and had previously met with Orozco and his wife to voice her objections. Police suspected the girl’s father was the murderer. However, a sicario from the Medellín Cartel subsequently revealed that was not the case.
According to him, Rafael Orozco had become one of the best money launderers for the North Coast Cartel. When Orozco travelled overseas to play at shows, he would take 12 accordions with him. He would then take out the insides of each instrument and fill them with cash bills before returning to Colombia without any suspicion in the world. Each accordion held $1 million and he would receive 15 percent of all money he smuggled back into Colombia. Apparently that wasn’t enough and he asked for his commission to be increased to 25 percent, which bothered the drug bosses. To make matters worse, on one trip returning from the US, three accordions went missing. Orozco promised to repay the money bu
t never did. He thought he was too big a star for the narcos to mess with. He wasn’t.
The murder was never fully solved by authorities as several witnesses or persons of interest were killed, or disappeared, including the watchman of a construction project next to Orozco’s house who spoke to the police the next day only to disappear and never be seen again. Regardless of the mystery surrounding the events, Orozco’s death was a great loss to the Colombian folk music scene.
There are a couple of other forms of traditional Colombian music that also have their origins in the Caribbean coast. Cumbia, which stems from West Africa, began as a courtship dance before gaining widespread popularity throughout Latin America. The music is one of the most representative symbols of Colombia.
Champeta features a rhythmic base over harmonic lines and is probably my favourite of all Colombian folk-music styles. One of Colombia’s biggest champeta stars, El Sayayin, was unfortunately killed in July 2012. While in a bar on the outskirts of Sincelejo near the Caribbean coast, two hitmen on a motorbike opened fire on the establishment in order to intimidate the owner to pay extortion money. It was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Another popular form of music in Colombia is merengue, which has a fast-paced tempo, although it actually originated from the Dominican Republic. The Colombian merengue band, Grupo Bananas, hit the headlines in 1995 when they were caught at Barranquilla airport with 7 kilograms of cocaine hidden in bongo drums. They were at their peak in popularity and just about to start a world tour, but that didn’t happen after all 15 members of the group were sent to jail.
The group spent up to five years in jail despite it being suggested that only the percussionist and two members of the technical team had prior knowledge of the crime. It was suggested their accomplice was a Colombian who had called them from Switzerland and contracted them to play there. However, it was all part of an elaborate scheme as he wanted them to, unwittingly, smuggle cocaine for him.
