I have to admit, that I was a bit wary about guerilla activity in Latin American. While those groups have lost their political cause, they are now cooperating with the cocain producers, the "narcos". We consult maps that detail (known) cocaine production zones - and avoid going there. In Colombia, we felt incredibly safe: All along the main roads, and at every bridge, are armed military posts. The main guerilla organisation, the FARC, has suffered many blows by the military, and has been pushed back into the most remote corners of the country.Only once we are a bit unsure about the safety situation, in the mountainous and remote region above Coconuco (southern Colombia). Two years ago, this place has been terrorised by the presence of guerillas. Nowadays, the extremely fortified police station is the only testimony visible to us of this period. Our cabdriver tells a story, that he was once forced at gunpoint to work as a transporter for the guerillas for a whole night, driving back and forth to move around a hundered armed men and women (the only compensation he received was a single cookie). We visit a remote sulphur mine in the mountains and speak to the manager there. He casually mentions that yes, there used to be some guerilla activity in the area, and they caused trouble. But the guerilla had since retreated into the higher regions and are hiding in wet and cold forests, far away from any settlement. We ask him, what they are doing there. He answers:"catching a cold!"
While we never came across any non-governmental army in Colombia, we unexpectedly encountered it in northern Peru.
On the dirt road between San Ignacio and Jaen, we see a banner flying that this road is protected by some "vigiliancia". Natasha spotted a man next to he banner, sitting on a motorcycle with a rifle. Sure enough, after another half an hour riding on the bumpy road, our taxi is waved down by a few men on the roadside. They all wear black combat trousers, dark T-Shirts with yellow prints: "Vigilancia" and "Ex-combatante". They are also armed. One of the men walks up to the cab, and asks for "a contribution" for their efforts. The cab driver declines, the passenger on the front seat frowns and gives a few coins, we, on the backseat, just stare ahead.
The next day, we take a public bus, and pass another checkpoint: again the armed men with their self printed T-Shirts. A man with a gun boards the bus while his "comandante" (at least that's what the t-shirt says) waits outside. The man walks down the isle in the bus and collects the contribution. Some passengers pay, others don't. I can't help but thinking that I would gladly pay if these guys took to shovels instead of guns and filled the many potholes on the road - now that would be a service. And by the way: their rifles don't look very modern, more like hunting rifles. I wonder if I could take a picture with them in exchange for a contribution (like with the indigenous girls in Cusco), but decide against making such a proposition.
We later ask a district judge from the south of the country about the "vigilancia". According to him, ex-dictator Fujimori encouraged such paramilitary groups made up by villagers from the area, as they knew the local territory and people better than the regular army. The judge thinks they were effective in fighting terrorist organisations. Seems that the terrorists and the dictator disappeared, but the vigilancia stayed.
