Onwards: Reflections from the Field, Muchísimas Gracias a Medellín Solidaria

Katie    

Duke Engage Colombia is divided into two parts: one in which we interview families and one in which we edit the videos of the interviews.  The first part has just come to a close and Eliana, my cogestora, made it possible.  Despite language barriers, naïveté, and inexperience, she guided me through the process to make sure that I understood and could communicate with the families I interviewed.  This was an incredible experience for me because I met 20 families, heard their stories, and witnessed first-hand their struggle for self-betterment and ultimately survival, all with the help of Eliana and Medellin Solidaria.  As I edit the interviews now, I am once again struck by the courage and fortitude of Colombian families living in Santo Domingo, the neighborhood where I worked.  I listened to stories of displacement, murder and kidnapping, but I also heard tales of development and survival.  Throughout it all, I heard stories of strength and as I return to the States I will take these stories with me to show the Colombia that I have come to know and love.

Cesar
My first week with Medellín Solidaria was a hectic one; in three days I had accompanied three different cogestores. Luckily, all three of my cogestores – Lilibeth, Naudit, and Mauricio – were wonderful guides and helpful mediators. During my second week my life found some stability as I was consistently matched up with Mauricio. Mauricio taught me valuable lessons in hard work, patience, and humility. He left a higher paying job in order to help underprivileged families understand the rights they were entitled to as Colombian citizens. He valued quality over quantity and would not finish a visit until he felt all of the family’s questions had been answered, even if this meant working 10 hours a day. Although some families projected their displeasure with Medellín Solidaria onto Mauricio, he never once lost his cool and always treated every family with respect. Thank you, Mauricio, for showing me a side of Colombia I had never seen and for helping me get one step closer to completing my project. As for the families I interviewed, thank you for allowing a stranger into your home and thank you for sharing your stories. A majority of these families were humble, hardworking people; they lived simple lives and were thankful for the roof over their heads and the food in their mouths. Many shared the same hopes for the future; that their children would grow up to be educated, productive members of society. These interviews proved to be a humbling experience and made me painfully aware of my own privilege. Although my mother raised me on many of the same principles that the parents I interviewed raise their children, I was spared the trials and tribulations that many of these families have had to face. I’ve never gone to sleep hungry and I’ve never had to worry about whether the water I was drinking was safe. Although I left many of these homes feeling guilty about my own privilege, I also left inspired to one day return to the land of my parents and make a difference in the lives of my underprivileged compatriots. Colombia is a country rich in water resources and the thought of one day returning to Medellín and using my education for the betterment of my people fills me with pride and happiness. ¡Que viva Colombia!
Carrie
Although I have some critiques of the DE program -- I wish that I had been able to work in the urban areas too, I’m unsure about the concept of reciprocity in regards to giving back to the families that tell us stories, etc. --, I believe that the Duke Engage Colombia program has been very successful in achieving what I believe is one of its main goals: changing the participant’s perception of Colombia.

Our program encourages us to pick 2-3 interviews to turn into final documentary videos. The following video was made to (1) acknowledge the 13 families I interviewed and the stories they shared, (2) recognize the significant contribution of Medellin Solidaria to our project, (3) learn how to use iMovie, 
and (4) show how the most important thing I’ve learned in Colombia is about Colombia itself.

Albert
As I currently reflect on my time in the field, it’s so easy to say, “I have learned so much.” To put into words what exactly I will take away from this experience, however, proves to be extremely difficult. I feel as if anything I write will just result in a combination of different clichés, but I will try my best. The houses that I visited in Picacho, the neighborhood where I worked, line the mountain side. The majority were houses near the top that required me to travel up hundreds of stairs and other steep inclines. Each day, I saw unfamiliar parts of the same neighborhood, but the arduous subir to each house remained the same. Each family that I met greeted me differently and I enjoyed the unpredictable nature of my days. There was no set list of questions to ask and so I began to look at each interview as simply a conversation to be had. I was there for whoever wanted to confide in me, show me their story, and/or simply talk. Some families seemed more welcoming than others, but regardless, each family possessed a remarkable pride for their barrio, Medellín, and their país. 


But the unpredictable nature of this work differed greatly from the university setting where I understand conversations, can fully express myself, know exactly what to expect, and how to act. Every time I walked into a home, I tried to compensate for my lack of fluency by constantly emoting how I felt through my body language. I nodded vigorously, smiled relentlessly, and laughed at every opportunity. This often felt forced and sometimes the idea of an American walking into your house to question your untold history with a video camera in hand rubbed people the wrong way—who would have guessed? On the other end of the spectrum, many families literally greeted me with open arms and enthusiastically spewed a story without much prompting. These experiences were the best because my actions no longer felt forced. When I was at ease, my Spanish flowed nicely, the conversations became personal, and I felt connected to people who merely minutes before were complete strangers. I walked out of some houses feeling elated because more than anything these families showed me where true happiness lies; one can find true happiness in family, friendship, love, culture, and health and in our conversations, the families stressed these ideals and made it clear that money is not the determining factor. 


These families will never truly know how much they impacted me. Children are unassuming, curious and friendly—this is just a fact and I especially enjoyed the houses with young kids where their presence created a comforting environment. Many of the children and teens that I met were studying or wanted to be studying English and this immediately put me on an even playing field with them because they would try to speak in English and I would attempt to respond in Spanish. The awkwardness dissipated and any worries of judgment disappeared completely. On my last day in the field, I visited a family that had 1 young boy and 2 young girls. At the sound of “vengo de los Estados Unidos”, they were off. They brought me their English notebooks from school, asked me how to say tons of words in English and wanted to hear me count to 100—at least 5 times. I was curious about many of the words they used and I asked them to correct me when my Spanish didn’t sound right. Their mother showed a similar sense of curiosity and we conversed about the difference between poverty in Colombia and in the United States in addition to touching upon the very religious nature of the Colombian families that I had met. 


This entire experience, however, would not have been possible without my cogestora, Helena Pinedo Lipnik. Every single one of her titulares saw her not only as a social worker, but also as a friend. And as a result, they trusted me with many personal stories. During the interview process my cogestora would re-phrase questions into more paisa comprehensible ones in addition to helping me through my struggles with Spanish and the language barrier. She would constantly tell me how much she cared about our project and led me to great families in Picacho that would be excited and willing to share their experiences with me. And by great, I am not referring to the stories they could produce, but rather the families that continue to live their lives peacefully, happily and beautifully in the face of struggle, pain, and violence. On the first day I met Helena, I told her that I was adopted from Colombia. She is the only one that actually knew of the village where my birth mother was from—Topaipí, Cundinamarca. Nothing more was said about it during our three weeks working in the field. But on the last day in the field, Helena appeared with a bag in hand. She had found a man originally from Topaipí who moved to Medellín and she bought me one of his handmade hats. This was a moment that I will never forget. This trip is an experience I will never forget.

My cogestora, Helena, with a family she was extremely close to.

David
For the past three weeks I've had the pleasure to work with Carmen, a social worker from Medellin Solidaria. Unlike some social workers, she lives in the same neighborhood as some of the families she assists. For me, the phrase "charity starts in the home" comes to mind and though these people don't live IN her home, they are about as close to it as they can get. With each family I see Carmen act with love and compassion and I think that the proximity of their homes greatly influences this. She has a deep connection and commitment with these families because they are all a part of the same community. Carmen has also shown me her part of the neighborhood, her home and her children. After a long day in the field I was welcomed into Carmen's home by her children like I was an old friend and was served an amazing meal. Due to afternoons like these, I feel like I'm friends with Carmen and her family and not just a coworker. I want to treat them the same way that they've treated me and cooking them a meal to show them the foods I love from home.
Of the many things that Carmen taught me, two that stand out are that stories are supposed to come about on their own and trust is a must. These two lessons go hand in hand because a family won't feel comfortable sharing their story if they don't find you trustworthy. You can ask a person to tell a story but that doesn't mean they will. Numerous times, Carmen and the family would discuss a perfect topic for an interesting interview but I'd find myself stonewalled on the same topics when the camera was rolling. Unlike Carmen who had built a relationship over time with these families, I'm an American who had just walked into their home less than an hour earlier. I smiled and played with their children but that didn't make up for the fact that they didn't know me. Thankfully, Carmen was there to bridge the gap between me, the foreigner, and the families as best she could and set us at ease. It's an understatement to say that without Carmen, my interviews would never have happened. Even so, there were times that Carmen's vouching on my behalf was not enough. One woman was ready to do the interview but when I talked about the permission form she clammed up because she didn't trust me to leave the interview unpublished if she so desired. I realize this is because her previous experience, unknowingly signing her home away, but it still frustrated me that I couldn't prove to her that I'm trustworthy. On the other end of the spectrum, I've entered a family's home and was greeted like the prodigal son and told to return at any time as I left. Experiences like these remind me that, despite the project's shortcomings, it is worthwhile effort because the families want to share their stories with me and the rest of the world.
Julie
I am so happy to have met Rosalba and Alexander. They have given me more than I could have ever asked for and taught me invaluable lessons. They taught me how to love, how to live on after a tragedy, and how to remain positive when all hope could easily be lost. I’m so grateful for their hospitality and openness and hope to continue to maintain a relationship with them in the future.

Of course, none of this could have been possible without my cogestora Johanna Maria Valle Zapata. Johanna helped me when I didn’t even think I needed help and was always willing to facilitate my needs in order to get the interviews I wanted. She was also always down to get ice cream so we made a 
great team!

Dani

Come my first day of work in the field, I was quite nervous. Although it now seems completely unnecessary and silly in retrospect, I arrived an hour early in my blue Medellín Solidaria chaleco, and sat on the front steps of Metro Suramericana with a book lying open on my lap and my bag tucked behind my feet. Once or twice before Maria came around the corner to pick me up en route to Picacho, I remember anxiously checking to make sure I had all the necessary forms and coveted technology.

I wanted to make a good first impression. I knew that having an extranjera in tow would make her job a little harder, a little less efficient, and so I brought my cogestora a small little gift to show my appreciation in advance for allowing me to accompany her on three weeks worth of visits.

But in reality, I had absolutely nothing to fear. Maria was a gem, a kind soul, and a compassionate person. Even after repeating the same old shpiel to every single family over those three weeks… “Dani is a student from the United States, working on a research project here in Medellín. For three weeks, she is accompanying me on my visits to talk to the families, to ask a couple supersencillas pregunticas con una camerita...”

Maria seemed to have this glowing warmth about her. All the families loved her, respected her, and depended on her as a source of strength and guidance. Without Maria, I would never have had the opportunity to be a part of their life in Picacho, if even for an hour on a hot, sunny day. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

Like Maria, the families that greeted me with open arms taught me more about myself than I could have ever imagined. They didn’t care about my grade point average. Or my social standing. The platica. Or any of my material possessions.  I wasn’t trying to impress or be anyone, but myself. I talked of my love for Medellín, how I missed my family, and how genuinely happy and contented I felt to be here…. In Colombia…in Medellín… in Picacho…in this house….with each and every person.

It’s difficult to capture a moment in time with a little flip camera that slips neatly in your pocket. But it’s even more difficult to remember why you walked out of a family’s house and started the descent down a windy, narrow staircase with a heavy heart, but with an immeasurable amount of joy. It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible.

I’ll most likely never see most of the people that so graciously shared an emotional part of themselves with me over these past three weeks again. I’ll never be able to sit across from Maria Elena and listen to her recount the pain and surprise of fleeing from the paramilitaries burning down her house with only the clothes on her back. I’ll never be able to watch Zoraida’s face light up again as she teaches a room full of rambunctious Colombian youth how to salsa and sashay around the room, giggling and staring back at me with their big, expressive, and innocent eyes. And I’ll never again feel that spiritual connection with Trinidad, her grip slowly loosening from my outstretched hand and her smile fading as we part ways… forever. But I will always remember each and every one of the strong entrevistado/as. Their boundless capacity to love and to hope in the face of struggle and hardship. Their perseverance and zest for life even in the midst of its unexpected ebbs and flows. And their pride for their children, their home, and themselves.

But more importantly, spending the long hours with my cogestora, trekking up the hilly terrain in Picacho taught me that living isn’t about fighting time and running from home to home, but rather being alive and present in every moment- taking the time to sit down, drink the fresh mango juice, listen, and feel. They told me their story, but forever changed mine. 

Alexa

What I love most about Medellín is the way that its people have received me. I have gotten to know many of the host families well and feel so close to them that if a few days pass without stopping by for coffee or a salsa dance, I miss their company… The people here have opened their arms to us despite the language barrier and our different daily habits, but what is most impressive is that I have never felt like a stranger to them. We arrived in the middle of the night after a long day of traveling. Stepping into my host mom’s apartment, she turned on the lights and ushered me into my room, the silence was broken with her welcoming laughter and a bundle of excited arms surrounding me. Later, our co-director, Tam, told Jota that we were both jumping together only a minute after moving my luggage in.

A beautiful aspect that I have found of the culture of Medellín is the way in which people welcome in strangers. As Americans, we are accustomed to being on guard around strangers, especially when they are in our home. However, despite Medellín’s violent past, the people that we have interviewed for the past three weeks have ushered us into their homes with warm soup, fresh juices, laughter and openness. They are as eager to get to know us, as we are to get to know them. When I ask to hear their stories, they often respond by asking to hear some of mine. They are curious to hear what it is like in New York and how it is different from their home. I have realized that as Americans, we hide our insecurities well. Though our news is constantly poking at those insecurities with reports of spreading illness, shootings in a far away city, kidnappings, etc. We rarely speak openly about our personal insecurities (economic trouble, family trouble, etc.) apart from those we are closest with. I am humbled by the way in which these families have opened up their past to me. My Cogestor, Juan Carlos, introduced me to each of these families. Waking at 6am each morning, I traveled an hour away to a café near la Biblioteca España in Santo Domingo, where we shared a tinto with Joa, the waitress. We then began trekking up towards El Compromiso. The trust that these families had in my ability to listen to their story was founded on a strong relationship with Juan Carlos. He had worked with these families over the course of two years to work with them so that they could pursue education and the benefits that the city offers. Not only did it impact me to see such a relationship of trust between a government worker and the community, but the effect that relationship had in transferring that trust to me.  The question of how we are serving these families in return for their openness has been one that I keep contemplating. I hope that by sharing their story, the scenes of violence that they have shared with me will not reoccur. By inspiring conversation about the past, the city can continue to move forward. Hopefully more people will reconsider the image they have of the Medellín instead of confusing its past with its present.