The unseasonal heavy rain of the past few days meant I was glad of the rough tarp that covered the back of our ancient 4x4 as we slid and scrambled our way up the dirt track, the cover protecting us from both the rain and prying eyes of guerilla forces.
The road snaked up through the hills of Cauca for several hours before we arrived at our destination, a small settlement with a single storey breezeblock church building. Dogs and children bounded up to us, keen to show their welcome and insist we make time to play. Meanwhile, men stood around drinking sweet coffee as the women crouched over an oversized cooking pot that simmered on an open fire.
The church building was set with rows of plastic garden chairs as rain continued to bounce from the metal roof. Our small team from CSW were here in Colombia for the launch of ‘Perseguidos mas no Destruidos’ (Persecuted but not Destroyed), a book of memories compiled from the lived experiences of the Nasa Indigenous Evangelical Church.
The plan had been for church and community leaders to join us in Bogota for a high-profile launch in parliament where we hoped to draw the country’s attention to the suffering of indigenous religious minorities. However, a late review to the risk assessment forced a change of plan. It was decided that there was a very real risk to life for some of the contributors if they were to speak publicly, especially with national elections looming. A decision was taken: if it was too risky for these leaders to come to Bogota, we would travel to Cauca and meet them there.
And so, here we were, listening to shared memories of persecution. Brave families stood one by one and told their stories in community. Stories of threats and violence, of arrests and beatings and murder, that they have endured over the past 20 years. For many, even the simple act of telling their stories, especially to foreigners who had travelled to their community, was immensely significant. One said to us: ‘We are thankful because you kept and fulfilled your word. Now we have our own book. For many people it may not seem important, but for us it is a great step forward.’
Sadly, these stories are far from isolated cases and the violence meted out by ideologically driven guerilla groups, as well as the countless armed criminal gangs, is reaching levels not seen for two decades.
In Santa Marta, the capital of the northern department of Magdalena, we met Juan Carlos, an indigenous Kogi Christian leader, who told us that until last year indigenous groups had been left alone by the armed criminal groups present in the region, but were now being forced to hand over half of any profits they made from their land. It wasn’t just the minority Christian Kogi community that were being affected either; the armed criminal groups had desecrated and destroyed holy places associated with the majority traditional indigenous religion too.
This recent rise in violence is also far from being limited to remote indigenous peoples. In the urban landscape of Santa Marta, Rodian and his wife stood beside the rubble of their church and home which had been burnt to the ground by a local armed criminal group whose leader heard Rodian quoting from the Bible during a service and ordered the destruction of the church - less than a mile away from the bustling tourist heart of this beautiful city on the Caribbean coast.
Before leaving Magdalena, we were keen to check in with our friend Pastor Karen, whose husband Ivan had been shot dead last year for refusing the paramilitary access to their church building where they intended to store drugs and guns. Karen asked if we would be willing to visit her at home and spend time with her family. Previously she had travelled to the city to meet and enjoy some respite on the coast with the children, but it felt important to honour the invitation. One of the principles of CSW is to stand in solidarity with those who suffer injustice because of their religion or belief. And here, in the ‘Banana Zone’ of Magdalena, traveling through miles and miles of banana groves in territory controlled by armed criminal groups, that invitation to ‘stand with’ felt, once again, like a privilege.
‘I can’t believe you came,’ Karen said as we arrived ‘it’s so dangerous here!’ She went on to explain how several men had been killed in a shooting recently. We sat and talked on her front porch; we played with the kids, ate plantain and admired a pet parrot that lives in the tree outside their bungalow. It all felt extremely normal.
It is ‘normal’. Children go to school, Karen cares for her mum who has been showing signs of dementia, the boys play football. All in this space where violence has been normalised, and has become a place of pain for Karen. Less than 50 meters from where we sit, hidden from view by the tree, is the place where Ivan was shot and killed - where the police refused to attend because they were too afraid.
The men who killed Ivan are still free, the level of impunity here is almost unbelievable and religious leaders like Karen, Ivan, Rodian, Juan Carlos and my Nasa evangelical friends act with great bravery often without the protection of the law. In 2023 the Colombian government withdrew special protections for religious leaders, leaving them increasingly exposed to the rising tide of violence in the country. These must be restored. In this beautiful, hospitable country, religious leaders need protecting, and CSW stands in solidarity, demanding action from the authorities.
Scot Bower is CEO of Christian Solidarity Worldwide. Click here to sign CSW’s petition calling for protections to be restored to religious leaders in Colombia.
