by Austin Galt
Several dozen paramilitaries commanded by Jesús Ignacio ‘Monoleche’ Roldán, the head of security for the Castaño brothers, found Carlos near one of his ranches in northern Antioquia and after a brief firefight with his bodyguards the ex-AUC boss was captured. Confused at what was happening Carlos demanded he be taken to his brother and asked, ‘Who ordered this?’ After the answer came back that it was his brother ‘El Profe’, he must have surely known his fate was sealed. Carlos didn’t have long to dwell on it, as he was immediately pumped full of bullets. His body was incinerated and buried along with at least nine of his bodyguards, while two other bodyguards managed to escape.
Demobilising in February 2006 was Ramón Isaza. He was regarded as the oldest paramilitary and was given the nickname ‘El Viejo’ or ‘The Old Man’. It had been a long road. Isaza had formed a small group of eight paramilitaries in 1977 called Los Escopeteros or The Musketeers which operated in the municipality of Puerto Triunfo in Middle Magdalena. Not only did they fight off left-wing guerrillas, they ‘cleansed’ the zone of other undesirables such as thieves, rapists and drug dealers.
When the FARC kidnapped the ACDEGAM founder Gonzalo Pérez in 1983, it was The Musketeers who came to the rescue after Gonzalo’s son Henry requested their help. That led to them all joining together and forming the Autodefensas del Magdalena Medio de Puerto Boyacá (AMMPB) or Self-Defence Forces of the Middle Magdalena of Puerto Boyacá with Henry Pérez as its leader. Henry would also become the political leader of the paramilitaries upon the death of the paramilitary-backed Middle Magdalena politician Pablo Guarín who was reportedly killed by the FARC in 1987 in retaliation for the murder of Patriotic Union leader Jaime Pardo.
Gonzalo Rodríguez Gacha allied with them, providing financial backing to set up Escuelas de Formación para la Lucha Armada y el Sicariato or Formation Schools for the Armed Struggle and Professional Murder, the most well-known school being Isla de la Fantasía or Fantasy Island, where students were instructed by Israeli and British mercenaries. Pablo Escobar offered an alliance with the group in 1991 but, not wanting to engage in his suicidal war against the state, they declined, which put the two sides at odds. Gonzalo Pérez was then killed in July 1991 while, less than two weeks later, Escobar’s men reportedly killed his son Henry as he participated in a church procession. Eight other people were also killed, including one of his bodyguards, two of the sicarios and five innocent children.
It was after Henry’s death in 1991 that the paramilitaries undertook their first demobilisation. His successor, Luis Meneses known as ‘Ariel Otero’, made a pact with the government, which was also negotiating with the guerrillas at the time, for several hundred of his paramilitary fighters to lay down their arms. He was accused of treason by other paramilitaries for not consulting with them about the decision and also for secretly selling the unreported weapons and ammunition to the Cali Cartel. Meneses was assassinated the following year.
Isaza decided to break away from the AMMPB in 1994 and form his own group – Autodefensas Campesinas del Magdalena Medio (ACMM) or Peasant Self-Defence Forces of Middle Magdalena. The paramilitary group expanded greatly and he decentralised the operation by creating fronts, generally led by his sons as well as his son-in-law Luis Zuluaga known as ‘Macguiver’ after US television action hero MacGyver. Macguiver was from Medellín’s Comuna 13 and his brother had been killed by the ELN-backed urban guerrillas. By the time of Ramón Isaza’s demobilisation, five fronts operating in the states of Tolima, Caldas, Cundinamarca and Antioquia were all accountable to his Frente Central or Central Front.
The final demobilisation took place on 15 August 2006, when the Elmer Cárdenas Bloc lay down their arms. This paramilitary bloc, led by Freddy Rendón Herrera known as ‘El Alemán’ or ‘The German’, had operated in the Urabá region where the saying goes, ‘Here paramilitarism and the State are the same thing’. It brought the number of demobilisations to over 30,000.
The beginning of the end for Don Berna came in May 2005 after an arrest warrant was issued for him in relation to the murder of a local politician from Córdoba a month beforehand. He initially went on the run, which put the peace process in jeopardy, and under pressure from other paramilitary leaders he turned himself in. Berna still ruled Medellín from jail but, just as Pablo Escobar experienced while in La Catedral, his grip was slipping.
Disputes broke out between different factions of the Oficina de Envigado which led to the unauthorised killing of Gustavo Upegui in July 2006 by Daniel Mejía, known as ‘Danielito’ or ‘Little Daniel’, who was angling for the leadership. He was the owner of a crematorium in Medellín where many victims were disappeared including, ironically, him. Carlos ‘Rogelio’ Aguilar, an ex-police investigator and Don Berna’s right-hand man, received permission to kill Danielito. Rogelio took himself out of the picture after he turned himself over to American authorities in Argentina in 2008 in return for a lenient sentence.
Another potential successor was Alirio de Jesús Rendón Hurtado, known as ‘El Cebollero’ or ‘The Onion Man’. He controlled Plaza Mayorista, the big fruit and vegetable market in Itagüí, located across from Envigado in the Aburrá Valley. He also controlled the onion market, hence the nickname. His brother Gilberto was considered the eighth-in-command of the Medellín Cartel until his death by the side of Gonzalo Rodríguez Gacha in 1989. El Cebollero, who was alleged to be involved in the murder of Gustavo Upegui, was captured by authorities in El Poblado in May 2008, thus putting him out of the picture for the Oficina’s top job.
Demobilisation was not the preferred outcome for many paramilitary fighters who had become accustomed to the steady stream of narco-dollars. The prospect of a poor civilian life was rather underwhelming and many instead chose to join the ranks of the Oficina de Envigado and other criminal bands that began sprouting up, known in Colombia as BACRIM, the acronym for bandas criminales or criminal bands.
One of the first BACRIM was the Águilas Negras or Black Eagles which was formed in 2006 by Vicente Castaño, who refused to turn himself over to authorities and spend time in jail, along with Daniel Rendón Herrera (known as ‘Don Mario’) who was the brother of Freddy ‘El Alemán’ Rendón Herrera. Vicente went missing in early 2007 and was allegedly killed at the behest of other demobilised paramilitary leaders. (According to one version, he committed suicide after he knew his time was up when the paramilitary assassins arrived at his ranch.) This saw Don Mario assume command of the Águilas Negras criminal band.
The Traquetos was set up by Don Berna in 2006 to maintain control of his drug-trafficking operations in Córdoba, specifically the municipalities of Valencia and Tierralta, which was previously done by the paramilitary Heroes of Tolová Bloc. This area is of vital strategic importance, being at the foot of the Nudo de Paramillo or Paramillo Massif which contains coca plantations and cocaine laboratories. The Paisas, a rural military wing of the Oficina de Envigado that Don Berna used to protect his interests in the countryside, controlled the rest of Córdoba. Don Berna directed both criminal bands from his jail cell.
After continuing his criminal ways and having been deemed to have not told the truth, it was ruled that Don Berna had not complied with the terms of the Justice and Peace Law and he was extradited to the United States in May 2008. He was later sentenced to 31 years in prison. It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.
17
EXPLOSIVE TIMES
Pedro invited Lily and me to his birthday party. It was on a Friday night and we both flew down to Cali in the late afternoon. Lily hadn’t met Pedro before and I preferred not to say exactly who he was. I didn’t want to taint her impression of him.
‘Hola Lily!’ Pedro greeted her warmly as if he already knew her. He was quite smooth actually.
Lily immediately felt welcome so things were off to a good start.
The party was held at Pedro’s place with just 15 close friends and family, plus a four-piece vallenato band to entertain us throughout the night. A professional
cook prepared a top-quality meal, while a waiter kept the Chivas Regal scotch whiskey flowing. Most of the guests spoke excellent English, which Lily found surprising as most Colombians can’t speak the language. A married couple, Julio and Isabella, told us about their many overseas holidays to cities such as New York, Paris, London and even Sydney. Clearly, this is not the norm for ordinary Colombians.
Julio remarked, ‘The only difference between a first-world country and a third-world country is this: in a first-world country 80 percent of the people have money and 20 percent are poor. In a third-world country, it is the other way around where 20 percent of the people have money and 80 percent are poor.’
Then he said something which has always stayed with me. ‘As for that 20 percent of people who have money here, we live just as well as anybody in a first-world country, probably even better.’
‘Better?’ I queried.
‘Yes, because we have more freedom. We do whatever we want,’ Julio replied matter-of-factly.
I immediately understood him. Money talks in Colombia. Loudly!
It was a great night and I felt honoured to be invited into such a small and special group of friends and family. Pedro’s father sat at the head of the table all night wearing purple-tinted shades and Lily commented on how smooth he was with the ladies. Like father, like son! Lily also really liked Pedro who actually made me look good, having invited me to such a swish do.
Julio and Isabella invited us to go with them the following night to Cali’s top salsa club. They were both just a few years older than us and we gladly took up their offer. Cali is known as the salsa capital of the world and the party district of Juanchito is where the best dance clubs are found. By the time we arrived at the club at about 10.30 pm, there was already a huge line around 50 metres long. Julio walked straight up to the bouncer and whispered something in his ear. I didn’t see any money changing hands but the bouncer got on the walkie-talkie and the manager arrived to greet us a couple of minutes later.
The club was packed and he guided us to a booth right beside the dancefloor. Every other booth was taken and a waiter was still cleaning the table in our booth as it had obviously just been vacated. Whether that was done willingly or management had cleared it for us, I don’t know. I suspect the latter. After ordering a bottle of whiskey, I sat back and marvelled at the dancing taking place right before my eyes. People were twirling every which way and some of the dancers clearly looked like experts. I found the spectacle much better than a salsa show. These people were dancing not for an audience but for themselves and loving every second of it. So was I!
I could have easily sat there captivated all night but I had to get up and have a go. Dancing to salsa and Latin music in general can be tough for Westerners. It is all about moving the hips, which can feel a little strange at first. I always like to keep things simple. A few gyrations and some simple dance steps get me a pass mark. It was a wonderful evening and we were grateful to our hosts. I don’t know exactly who Julio and Isabella were but they made a big effort to make us feel welcome and to show us a good time. That’s more than one can ask for.
I was starting to learn more about the country and its people. Someone at Pedro’s party had made a joke, or at least I thought it was, about the costeños, as people from the coast are called, having sex with donkeys. I thought it was surely a myth but wanted to ask a student of mine who was from the Caribbean coast.
One of my students, Jeison, grew up in a town near Cartagena and I asked him one day in class about this ‘myth’. I noticed some other students began nodding their heads before I’d finished speaking but I was still completely gobsmacked and horrified with his answer.
‘Yes, it’s true. My father and brother have had sex with a donkey but I haven’t.’
The class broke out in laughter accusing Jeison of being with a donkey too. He still denied it but admitted it was a tradition on the coast. I was shocked not only with the confirmation but in how freely he implicated his family members in such a seemingly grievous moral crime.
Many young boys from the coast lose their virginity to donkeys which helps to make their first time with a girl less terrifying. Also, Colombia is a very religious country and many of the Catholic girls won’t have sex until they are married. So, the teenage boys often practise with donkeys in the meantime.
My mind wandered back to the hee-hawing of a donkey which broke the silence of the night in Taganga a couple of years earlier. I’ve never looked at a donkey the same way since. I am also a costeño having grown up on the coast in Sydney and I will occasionally joke, ‘Yo soy costeño sin burro!’ I am a costeño without the donkey!
There are many holiday weekends in Colombia and I used the opportunity to see other parts of the country. The Miss Bambuco contest is held in late June in the city of Neiva, and Lily suggested we make a weekend of it. We set off early on Saturday morning, linking up with a caravana which was a convoy of cars flanked by military vehicles with a helicopter overhead scouting for guerrillas. This was part of a security program, known as Seguridad Democratica or Democratic Security, which the Uribe government had instituted to allow people to travel outside the metropolitan cities in safety. It would operate on holidays with routes between the major cities. Quite frankly, it was rather surreal.
The road down to Neiva sweeps by the guerrilla-infested mountains, separating it from Cali. The mountains are so close that it’s not difficult to understand how easy it is for them to commit crimes and then quickly escape back up to the mountains. Travelling with the military escort certainly helped to ease any concerns I had.
A few months earlier in February 2003, police had frustrated an attempt on the life of President Uribe. The guerrillas had loaded a massive amount of C4 explosives into a house that lay under the flight path to Neiva’s airport. They planned to detonate this casa bomba or house bomb when Uribe’s plane came into land. As police entered the house, it blew up killing over 15 people, mostly police officers, and destroyed over 40 surrounding houses. The FARC tried once again in Neiva in April 2005, firing a rocket at his plane as it landed. They missed.
It was the late afternoon by the time we arrived in Neiva and it was nearing on uncomfortably hot. Still, it was a welcome change from Bogotá. I was admittedly a touch apprehensive as the city has experienced more than its fair share of guerrilla violence, whether it be bombings or kidnappings.
On 26 July 2001, a dozen FARC guerrillas stormed the emblematic Miraflores building in the heart of Neiva. They entered under the pretence of being members of the anti-kidnapping unit GAULA and took advantage of people celebrating Colombia beating Honduras in the semi-final of the Copa América football tournament. They shot down the doors of apartments, the noise of which was easily confused with firecrackers being let off.
Their main target was Jaime Lozada, a Colombian senator. He wasn’t home but his wife, ex-congresswoman Gloria Polanco de Lozada, and their children were. They were among the 15 people loaded into two trucks and whisked away to the demilitarised zone. Some were released over the following days while others weren’t freed for several years.
Lozada eventually paid a ransom to free his sons who were liberated after three years. His wife, however, remained in FARC hands. They would never see each other again. Jaime Lozada was killed in December 2005 after an explosive device was detonated on the road he was travelling to a nearby town. Snipers then fired on his vehicle, hitting him several times in the back. His wife was finally released in 2008 after seven years in captivity. It was yet another Colombian family torn apart by a misguided ideology.
The Miss Bambuca contest certainly wasn’t riveting but, nonetheless, I enjoyed seeing a different part of Colombian culture. The 2016 contest was more eventful with the winner, Miss Tolima, having her crown snatched away from her on stage by a losing finalist from Bogotá. Miss Bogotá thought she was a more deserving winner!
Lily and I also travelled around the coffee region, known as the Eje Cafetero, which is arguab
ly the most beautiful part of Colombia with its rich and fertile land. The majority of Colombian coffee is grown here and it’s regarded as the best quality coffee in the world. It was during this visit that I started drinking coffee. I haven’t stopped since!
The heart of the coffee region is the state of Quindio, and its capital Armenia was the site of a devastating earthquake in 1999. Many buildings collapsed, especially old structures such as churches, and at least 1000 people were killed, with thousands more injured. Many of the region’s coffee farms were damaged as well as Carlos Lehder’s Posada Alemana.
Further north in Quindio state is the Cocora Valley, famous for its wax palms. Located high in the Andes, the Quindio wax palm is the tallest palm tree in the world and the national tree and symbol of Colombia. We stayed in Salento, a colourful colonial town just a short drive from the valley. Upon our arrival, an army platoon was gearing up to go on a mission looking for FARC guerrillas who were known to operate in the area. It was a little disconcerting and we didn’t venture too far off the beaten track.
We travelled further north-west, visiting the Los Nevados National Natural Park, a breathtaking wilderness with beauty found in its emptiness. The páramo is devoid of forest cover due to the altitude with bunchgrass and shrubs dominating the landscape. It is the site of the Nevado del Ruiz, which is a volcano that straddles the border of Caldas and Tolima in the Cordillera Central. The volcano, which lies within the Pacific Ring of Fire, is active and last erupted in the early 1990s. It was an eruption in 1985 that caused a devastating tragedy.
On 13 November 1985, the Nevado del Ruiz roared to life with pyroclastic flows melting its glaciers and sending several huge mudslides rapidly down the mountain. The mudflows sped down a river valley headed directly toward the town of Armero, a cotton-farming community located 48 kilometres east of the volcano in Tolima. The townspeople were getting ready for bed when the eruption occurred just after 9 pm, but it went unregistered due to a storm taking place at the time. Volcanic ash had fallen in the afternoon but residents were told there was nothing to fear.
