The centre of Toribio is obscured by a thick rain which falls incessantly for hours. The Saturday morning market hasn’t let itself be intimidated by the weather; its irresistible call to hundreds of women intent on choosing the best amongst the fruit, vegetables and pieces of game hung on the market stalls occupying the middle of the square.  The only square in this town clinging to the mass of the verdant Central Cordigliera mountains.
We are three hours away from Cali, capital of the valley of Cauca, the south west state of Columbia.  It can be reached only by way of the crowded ‘chiva’, the typical bus of Andean America.  It is open, without windows or glass, it is a huge, coloured Pullman with dashboard lights that work intermittently and decorated with frills hung everywhere.  It climbs the steep slopes with ease thanks to a powerful motor which drags with it people, animals and merchandise – all to the accompaniment of Salsa and Vallenato.  It shuttles twice a day between Toribio and Sant’Ander de Quilichao, a town of 80 000 inhabitants located on the Panamerican road, between Popoyan and Cali.
We are in the heart of the territory of the indigenous Nasa; 120,000 people who base their existence on the search for harmony between man and nature; they refuse any form of violence and claim to safeguard their ancestral culture, whilst successfully creating a constructive relationship with the modern world.
In these parts, Columbia dresses herself with accessories of a thousand year old tradition, speaks Nasayuwe and greets the world with ‘ewcxa’ in place of the friendly, Castiglian ‘hola’.  The people are small in stature and have hazelnut coloured skin.  Their eyes are bright and proud.

“Welcome to the indigenous territory of Toribio, a Columbian municipality with a Nasa majority.  The handshake of mayor Arquimedez is strong and gentle at the same time.  He comes down the stairs of the town hall to meet us.  A man with greying hair, dressed in a black leather jacket and white pants.  From his left pocket the antenna of the ‘Avantel’, the radio-transmitter that the Columbian government requires anyone who is under death-threats to carry, peeps out.  It is the first sign so far that the war is also here, in this curious little town.
The internal conflict which has caused blood to be shed in this country for over 40 years, has also descended upon the peaceful Nasa.  A little higher up, among the thick vegetation which frames the centre of the town, hundreds of guerrillas of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia (FARC) operate.  A few steps away from us however, a military base in American style, rises up white and square, among the simple houses.  If you look closer through the wet mist that veils everything in opaqueness, the reality emerges in its full tragedy.  Near the military base and police station, the walls of the dwellings are riddled with bullet holes.
“They are the marks of a tragic day in April one year ago”, it is the voice of Arquimedez responding to our puzzled expressions. “It was Thursday, 14th, and the war arrived right into our homes.  The trenches were right here, in the market square.  And there, between the two houses with the shell damaged corners. We tried to save everyone. There are 3,500 of us here in the actual town.  Everyone was running everywhere.  One man and a child died.  He was only 8 years old.  And there were many wounded.”
Then a sigh and a hand gesture as if to collect the rain drops.  “Today, it is raining and everything stops, otherwise the sound of the bullets flying at each other in the forest is the daily background noise during this hot summer.  There, they fire at each other every day.  The town itself however, is now respected.  His words don’t betray either fear or insecurity.  Everything speaks of a controlled normality.  “We have imposed a firm stop on guerrillas and soldiers, irremovable, reaffirming our active neutrality.  Our autonomy.  But war doesn’t look anyone in the eyes and it’s we who pay the costs, we, who are the only people on the right side in this war: on the side of peace.”

Following the lively tone of his words, we are able to penetrate the Nasa philosophy.  With a long speech, interrupted by the friendly greetings of passers-by, simple concepts introduce the right to life, the founding principle of their strategy of peace in a country at war.
“We will resist against anyone who doesn’t respect our culture.  Our strength is in our unity, our sharing. It is the Minga, the compartir (the sharing).  In the language of the Nasa, words of offence don’t exist but we are ready to die to defend our identity.  We believe firmly in the force of dialogue.  Words are our weapons.  This is how we have earned the respect of those who have chosen weapons and death.”  We are walking around Toribio.  The story becomes personal. “I am 38 and I have two children.  I have been mayor for two years.  I trained in the CRIC, the indigenous association which, during the seventies, took over the reigns of the Nasa re-organisation and the redemption of the ancestral lands taken away from us during the era of the white landowners with strongly dubious rights of ownership.
Up till now, we have reclaimed 191,000 hectares, pacifically occupying the land and appealing to justice. We are near to obtaining the entire area that the Spanish crown recognised as ours.  We are cultivators.  We take care of the land, we respect it.  For us, it is sacred.  We haven’t been contaminated by money.  We are a tranquil and simple people.  Our objective in life is happiness which for us means living harmoniously and in peace with everyone.” 

 

He is proud of being able to say it, he clarifies, “This, our path, is long and painful.  We are resisting a war.  Many friends have died along this road, killed by a State that doesn’t accept our position and that all too often seeks to label us as  supporters of the guerrillas and therefore, necessary to exterminate.
In reality, he states, it is our land, rich in water, gold, marble and biodiversity which makes us so inconvenient. The economic power is ready to devour resources and hope”. Then in a sarcastic tone,” Immagine: I have even been kidnapped by the FARC. Absolutely a supporter of the revolution!  It happened one and a half years ago but it’s important that you know this to be able to understand what life is like in Columbia.  There is no liberty, we are slaves in our own homes.  Violence keeps us in check.  Every movement, thought or word might lead you to death.  The people live between two fires and with little alternative. Give in or earn respect for themselves.  But to do this, we can’t be alone.  A person on their own in this country, dies.”  In August, 2004, while the newly elected mayor of Toribio was travelling in Caqueta’, 700 kilometers south of Cauca, an area with a high presence of guerrillas, he was kidnapped.  “You are under sequestration in the name of the revolutionary law 2000,” they told me, “under which anyone elected who does not renounce their position, automatically becomes an accomplice of the political system to be destroyed and therefore, an enemy.”  The expression of the mayor at this point is serious and his tone gloomy.

At his side has been walking a young Indian, tall and handsome, who holds in his right hand a staff decorated with coloured ribbons.  He remains silent, listening.  Arquimedez continues, looking towards the forest, inhospitable location of that sentence.  “It was  horrible.  I spent entire days walking, escorted by two men in cammoflage.  The more time passed, the more distant freedom seemed.  I was too far away from my land, from my people.  I feared that the news of my kidnapping wouldn’t arrive quickly enough.  At that time, Toribio, now occupied by hundreds of soldiers and policemen, was directly controlled by the FARC.  They were the public forces, filling the void left by the absent State.    “The FARC commander of the zone knew me” explained Arquimedez, “His men had orders to respect the Nasa.  There was a sort of mutual bearing – up with each other which was producing a relative peace. My kidnapping at the hands of another battalion, by comrades hundreds of kilometres away, threatened the FARC of the Cauca with a real and strong Nasa revolt.  Yet, it was in their interest to live fairly with my people.  I appealed to logic to overcome my fears.  But the thought that there are more than 3,000 politicians in the hands of the FARC for years, tormented me.  Finally, I chased it away with all my might.”
The news took two weeks to travel the 700 kilometers to Toribio.  The army heard, by accident, a guerrilla radio conversation.  Toribio became excited.  In a few hours, the indigenous guard, the organ in charge of the defence of the people and territory, was ready to march on Caqueta’ “armed”, Smiles Arquimedez, “with a beautiful coloured staff , symbol of non violence and passive resistance. Yes, that one.” He adds, indicating the wooden staff held regally by the young man.  He is Alfredo Acosta, general co-ordinator of the indigenous guard, who takes the baton from his mayor and continues with the story.

“There were 300 of us.  We marched for two days.   Once we had identified the zone where the kidnapping took place, we started to put pressure on every FARC patrol that we met in the forest.  United and determined, we called for his release.  We advanced together, armed only with the courage which came from knowing that we were in the right.  We didn’t give up for days.  And little by little, other Nasa joined us”, he recounted gesticulating, his gaze lost in the glorious memory of it, “we became 600.  The FARC didn’t have a choice.”  “I was freed,” sighed the mayor.
From that time, together with the independent university, the projects for sustainable development and the community council in charge of respecting  the ancestral laws, the indigenous guard now also became the pride of the Nasa, an integral part of the ‘Plan de la vida’ (Life Plan), a sort of manifesto that every single inhabitant follows and aspires to reaching in order to have a better life.
“We will never let our guard down,” concludes Alfredo, “we have emergency plans ready to implement for every ‘resguardo’ (defence).  Studying the moves and countermoves of the guerrillas and the army, we are able to evaluate the  level of security of our regions and if necessary, we can transfer all the inhabitants from the more peaceful areas until peace returns to the affected zone.”
And so, is it for this impeccable ability to organise themselves in which we can find the proverbial wisdom of the Nasa, that they have received national and international prizes for peace?  In reality, the Nasa have a secret.  A special ally, irreplaceable: their total, blind faith in myth.  In these days in which everything seems to presage the next battle; in which the FARC, just above their heads, are intent on rallying on all fronts in order to deliver mortal blows to the army; the Nasa leaders take refuge in the myths of creation. “It is in this way that we maintain peace in our hearts and harmony of mind.” Whispers Ligna Pulido,  a young Nasa who has just joined us.  “It is a lagoon situated more than 3000 meters above, which is the font of our ancient wisdom.” She, hands joined, voice soft and delicate, tells the story of a star that fell in love with that mirror of water, cradled by the  forest, and dipped one of its points in the water, creating the first Nasa.  And it is here that we always return to.  Even tonight,” confides Ligna, “given the emergency hanging over us, some of us will walk for hours through the thick forest, escorted by a traditional doctor who will read and interpret the signs of nature.  Once we have reached the mother lagoon, we will meditate and immerse ourselves in her waters and ask her for protection  in order to affront the next battle.  Then we will wait.  It will be through the means of thunder that the response will arrive.  And with this awareness of the future, we will prepare ourselves to face our destiny.  With our heads held high, united.”