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<h1><font size=4><b>FARC Women in Colombia and the death of a rebel
leader</b></font></h1><font size=3>
<a href="http://www.zcommunications.org/znet/viewArticle/16941" eudora="autourl">
http://www.zcommunications.org/znet/viewArticle/16941<br><br>
</a>March 22, 2008 By <b>Terry Gibbs</b> <br><br>
In the pre-dawn hours of March 1, 2008, the second-in-command of
Colombia’s oldest and largest guerrilla group, the Revolutionary Armed
Forces of Colombia – People’s Army (FARC-EP) and 21 other rebels were
killed by an army incursion into their jungle camp located two kilometres
across the border with Ecuador. It is the first time in the decades-long
civil conflict that the Colombian military has been able to kill a member
of the FARC’s seven-person central command and the cross-border strike
brought Colombia, Ecuador and Venezuela to the brink of war. Eight months
prior to his death, I had traveled to one of Reyes’ jungle camps with my
partner and colleague Garry Leech. It was a rare opportunity as few North
Americans had met face-to-face with Reyes during the last six years. We
not only met Reyes in person, but also gained insights into guerrilla
life.<br><br>
Reyes, who was chief negotiator for the FARC during the failed peace
process (1998-2002), was known as a hardliner. He refused to accept a
peace agreement that did not include social justice. This necessarily
implied a transformation of Colombia’s political and economic
structuresa process not welcomed by either Colombia’s elites or
Washington. Colombia has been enmeshed in a civil war for over 40 years
and while a small minority have benefited from its vast resource wealth,
a majority of the population lives in poverty. The FARC are battling
against the U.S.-backed government and its right-wing paramilitary
allies, calling for an end to U.S. imperialism and a redistribution of
wealth. Reyes was the international voice of the guerrilla group and he
spent a great deal of time working to build international solidarity.
<br><br>
At the time of our departure from Colombia’s capital, Bogotá, we had only
a vague idea about the specifics of our two-and-a-half day journey to the
remote guerrilla camp. Our trip began with a one-hour flight to a small
city in southern Colombia. After a night in a hotel, we journeyed for two
days on two buses from high in the Andes Mountains down into the Amazon
rainforest. One of the bus trips lasted over nine hours, five of which
took place on harrowing and meandering mountain roads dropping off into
cavernous valleys. While the views were stunning in all their green
majesty, I was too terrified for much of the journey to venture a peek
out the window. My fellow travelers found this distinctly amusing. There
were several bends in the road that required the bus to grind its way
through fallen rocks or running water. To add to the terror, our driver
appeared to be in a rush, heading into many of the curves with the
determination of a Formula One race car driver. <br><br>
At one point on the second day, as our bus approached a river, we
recognized the spot where we were told to disembark. It is here that we
were to rendezvous with our guerrilla contacts. While we waited, a local
woman in the solitary house beside the river served us cups of strong
black coffee. We were able to make out a shadowy figure in the distant
trees talking on a hand-held radio. After about twenty minutes, two young
women in civilian clothing, one of them the figure in the trees,
approached and informed us that they would be taking us down the river.
We traveled in a dugout canoe that was powered by an outboard motor for
approximately two hours. After stopping to pick up gasoline and four
large planks of wood, we continued on our journey. Our river trip
terminated at a seemingly arbitrary spot along the riverbank. Equipped
with rubber boots and ponchos, we disappeared into the Amazon Rainforest
on a narrow muddy trail. The two women insisted on carrying our backpacks
in addition to the two six-foot long, heavy planks of wood each of them
carried on their shoulders. With seeming ease, they made their way along
the winding, hilly trail, while Garry and I struggled to avoid falling,
and to keep apace with our guides.<br><br>
Nightfall came during our hike and we were soon surrounded by darkness
except for the dim glow of our small flashlights, which were pointed
downwards at all times as per the instructions from our guides. After an
hour of hiking, we were greeted by a fully-uniformed guerrilla armed with
an AK-47 assault rifle. There was a brief conversation between this man
and the two women. He remained at that point on the trail when we resumed
our trek. We passed several more guerrillas over the next few minutes and
each of them greeted us with a nod of the head. And then, appearing
suddenly out of nowhere, the carefully constructed wooden structures of
the camp became visible through the trees. At one end of the camp we saw
a bright light perched over a table where a middle-aged man sat at a
laptop computer. It was FARC commander Raúl Reyes.<br><br>
After a brief introduction, we stood there for a few moments in an
uncomfortable silence. How does one kick-off a conversation with a
guerrilla leader? Commander Gloria and three other female guerrillas
joined us. We all dined on a supper of fish, potatoes and vegetables,
which led us into a friendly, but rather surreal, conversation about our
favourite types of food. We were told that this was a good week to visit
because they had managed to secure some decent food supplies. Sometimes
they have little more than bananas and beans to eat. <br><br>
The mood became light and we gradually felt comfortable enough to explain
why we had come. While Garry was there to interview Reyes himself, I
sought to interview women guerrillas. As part of my research exploring
the role of women in social transformation, I wanted to understand how
and why these women had become guerrillas. After an animated discussion
about world politics and revolution, Reyes told us we could begin our
work the next morning. We were led to our bivouac, which contained planks
of wood to serve as a mattress and a tarpaulin draped overhead to protect
us from the tropical rains. I lay in our bed thinking about Zen masters
and their ability to sleep on anything. Eventually, I drifted off to
sleep.<br><br>
It was 4:30am when I was awakened by the mild buzz of hushed voices. I
attempted to focus my eyes in the darkness. From my bivouac I could see
the faint glow of small flashlights pointed downwards as guerrillas
dressed themselves. I had made two trips to the “washroom” during the
night with a guide, so I felt confident that I could find my way back
there alone without armed accompaniment. The morning air was grey and
heavy with damp. Donning my rubber boots and poncho, I made my way along
the wooden pathway trying to recognize at exactly what point I had turned
right during the night. I didn’t want to end up in the male washroom
again. <br><br>
I returned to the centre of the camp as streaks of light from the rising
sun began to penetrate the jungle canopy. I watched the guerrillas in
nearby bivouacs efficiently folding everything from their tarpaulin to
bed sheets. It was the kind of exercise that reminded me of my mother’s
stories about the disciplined life in London during World War Two. After
a few moments of activity, there were neat, identical piles of tightly
wrapped cloth in the corner of each “bed,” and not one bug or fleck of
dirt was visible. Within moments the sleeping areas were abandoned as the
group fell into formation in the large meeting area to receive their
orders for the day. Meanwhile, Garry and I spent a good half hour doing a
less than stellar version of the guerrillas’ morning household chores. We
were then called to breakfast, which we ate with Reyes and Gloria. We
were joined by two young female guerrillas who were on kitchen duty and
an older guerrilla named Gladys, who has been with the FARC and living in
the jungle for 32 yearslonger than any other woman.<br><br>
Many think of Gladys as a mother figure, but not your typical mother. She
is responsible for the camp’s communications centre and could be seen in
her bush office disseminating information via radio. She has been in
combat many times over the years. Gladys has known nothing but life in
the FARC since she was a teenager. The FARC was her family and she spoke
with great pride of her commitment to building a new Colombia where the
poor would have a voice and the wealth would be shared equally. Despite
being hardened by decades spent in the jungle, tears were visible in
Gladys’s eyes when I asked her how she kept going after all these years.
“I believe in what we are doing, in the revolution, in social justice,”
she said. “The vision of a new Colombia keeps me going.”<br><br>
While the FARC has been criticized for its violations of human rights,
particularly kidnapping, targeted assassinations, and its use of
notoriously inaccurate home-made mortars and landmines, some analysts
have suggested that it is a mistake to simply dismiss the group as a
criminal or terrorist organizationas the Colombian, U.S. and Canadian
governments have done. Carolina, who joined the FARC more than 10 years
ago, explained that she became involved in the guerrilla group because “I
liked the sound of the objectives it was fighting for: defending the
interests of the people, the struggle against imperialism, against
discrimination, for a radical change in the structure of the
government.”<br><br>
On the afternoon of our first full day of absorbing camp life, we were
eager to bathe and change clothes. Even in this activity, we were struck
by the efficiency and order of the camp. Everything happened at a
specific time and in a specific way. Even when bathing, we were
integrated into the rebel order of things. We were pleasantly surprised
by the “bathroom,” which thankfully was situated far from the “toilets.”
It consisted of a warm pool in a free flowing river with an adjacent
primitive wooden structure in which one could get undressed and wash
clothes. The fact that the male and female guerrillas strip down to their
underwear and bath together was at first intimidating, but it soon became
apparent that nobody was fazed by it. We entered the water in our
underwear and washed both our bodies and our clothes before exiting,
drying off and donning clean attire. Each guerrilla had two uniforms and
they kept both themselves and their uniforms immaculately clean. While
bathing, everyone engaged in light conversation, telling stories and
jokes. After watching Garry floundering with soap and his muddy trousers
on the laundry table in the running stream, one of the young male
guerrillas tried to teach him how to scrub the stains from his
pants.<br><br>
We were free to roam the camp during the three days we spent with the
guerrillas. We observed the rebels receiving commands, doing their chores
and spent many hours simply sitting and chatting with them when they had
free time. Not only did the guerrillas treat us with great respect, but
they also appeared to treat each other that way too. I took these
opportunities to get to know some of the female guerrillas. I was focused
on finding out why these, mainly young, women had decided to live this
dangerous and harsh life in the jungle.<br><br>
It is evident that some women in Colombia have, for various reasons,
decided that armed struggle is the only way to overcome state repression
and the structural problems of poverty and inequality. Women make up more
than thirty percent of the FARC’s 16,000 fighters. Furthermore, they now
constitute approximately forty percent of mid-level commanders in the
rebel army. At the same time that these women are succeeding in shifting
the gender dynamic within the structures of the traditionally
male-dominated FARC, they are also fighting to dramatically change the
country’s political, economic and social structures. <br><br>
Many of the female guerrillas talked about the culture shock of joining
the FARC, not only because of the difficult conditions in which rebels
live, moving constantly in jungle terrain and living in fear of attack,
but because of the extreme contrast between the role of women back in
their communities as compared to that in the rebel camps. Many female
FARC members come from traditional peasant communities where the
hierarchy of the family and the subordination of women in the household
are deeply entrenched. So for most of them, the FARC has provided a
liberation of sorts from traditional obligations and a recognition of
their broader capacities as women. <br><br>
FARC women and men share equally in cooking, cleaning, guard duty and
combat. Many guerrillas, both male and female, pointed out that
discrimination of any sort is met with sanctions. As one guerrilla
stated, “Here, we women say that a woman is not just for sexual
exploitationhaving kids, washing, cleaning and sweeping. We have to
strengthen our own goals, to be someone in this life.” Another female
guerrilla pointed out, “Here we have rights and responsibilities to live
up to. A woman can find herself leading 50 to 60 men, just as a man can.
She can give classes in politics and military strategy, and she can lead
a team into combat. It’s great to see women commanders exercising their
authority.” <br><br>
The principal issues related to gender that FARC women identified did not
differ significantly from those highlighted by other Colombian women
engaged in non-violent political activities, although the language of the
rebels reflected a Marxist orientation. Many political women who have not
taken up arms identify poverty, inequality, displacement and political
corruption as important issues. FARC women, however, speak also of U.S.
imperialism and capitalist exploitation. And while many other women,
particularly peasants and residents of the country’s poor urban barrios,
tend to frame their politics in the very immediate struggles for rights,
food, water and land, the FARC women were clearly working towards a
socialist society, an overthrow of the existing capitalist order.
<br><br>
While we are well aware of the fact that many see the FARC as
“terrorists,” our experiences in that particular camp made evident the
complicated and multifaceted nature of Colombia’s war. The guerrillas we
met were ideologically committed, respectful, hard working and
surprisingly gentle in their manner. And I speak here not only of the
women. While we observed the guerrillas engaging in military-like
activities, we also saw them participating in a cultural showsinging and
reading poetry. They watched the news every night on the camp television
and then discussed political events. Once a week they had a “movie
night,” sometimes they viewed historical films about Colombia or
documentaries made by the FARC, at other times it was more traditional
Hollywood fare. <br><br>
There were many hidden surprises in the camp. Commander Gloria liked to
wear make-up. She was Reyes’ right-hand person and his partner. One got
the sense that she oversaw a great deal of the day-to-day chores in that
camp and it was clear that, despite her sense of humour, she could be
tough and uncompromising. Many of the young women also wore make-up and
liked to dress-up for cultural shows and poetry readings. Living moments
of “normal” seemed key to morale in the camp. <br><br>
I spent a great deal of time with a young guerrilla named Ana. She
insisted on braiding my hair and showed me how to handle her AK-47. I
found it hard to reconcile her warm personality with the assault rifle,
and a strange sadness overcame me as I listened to her stories. On the
morning of our final day, as we prepared to leave the camp on the long
journey back to Bogotá, Ana asked me if she could keep a photo of my
fifteen-month-old son. I thought it an odd but endearing request. FARC
women have given up the idea of having a family of their own in order to
engage in the revolution. But as Commander Gloria told me, “We do not
lose our femininity because we are guerrillas. It is important to
remember that you are a woman as well as a guerrilla.” <br><br>
As I sit here writing these reflections on that visit to the jungle, I
think of Gloria, who was killed alongside Reyes in the Colombian army’s
recent attack on the camp. I also wonder if Ana, Gladys and the other
female guerrillas I got to know for a brief moment were among the other
rebels killed that fateful night. <br><br>
<i>Terry Gibbs is an assistant professor in the Department of Political
Science and director of the Centre for International Studies at Cape
Breton University.<br>
</i> <br><br>
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