Crossing Lines in Comuna 13.

by Philippa Silver (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Colombia

As I sat amongst locals on the metro in Medellin in the direction of Comuna 13, little did I expect to find myself shedding a tear by lunchtime. I was about to find out what happened in Medellin around 28 years ago. Specifically what happened in Comuna 13 - a part of Medellin that had previously been given the worst nickname ‘Colombia’s most dangerous neighbourhood’ - a stereotype that has been a nightmare to shake off. Oscar, the tour guide greeted me with enthusiasm. Then he began. Telling us his story of growing up in Colombia’s most hazardous neighbourhood. It started in 1991. I gasped in silence, this story wasn’t old - it is fresh history. I was born in 1991 into a loving family and it wasn’t until after Oscar told us his story, that I realised just how privileged I was to be born in the UK. In 1991 all hell was breaking loose on the streets of Medellin. The city had hit rock bottom, violence, crime and murder was at its highest. The majority of murders were teenagers, who unfortunately represented the most vulnerable age group to be at that time. Growing up with Guerrillas, Para-militants and Cartels fighting, meant teenagers were a prime target for them. They either recruited you to join their group or they considered you a spy for the opposing side - which was life-threatening. Oscar continued. There were rules and regulations to be strictly followed. No cars were allowed in the neighbourhood, not even ambulances. Everyone was to be inside their home after 7pm - no exceptions. Invisible borders were implemented. Don’t be fooled because they were invisible - these ‘lines’ could cost you your life. Two of Oscars friends were killed for crossing invisible lines. One was murdered for the most innocent reason imaginable - crossing the mountain to complete some homework with a classmate. We, mere visitors, were about to cross these invisible lines within just 3 hours. Oscar had not been able to cross them in 4 years. Comuna 13 became the Holy Grail because of its location as the first neighbourhood in Medellin to be reached travelling inland from the Pacific coast. In other words, it was perfect ‘Narco’ trafficking ground with easy access to the Pacific coast, to Panama and ultimately the rest of the world. Halfway into the tour, Oscar told us he was actually born in ‘el campo’. His family were originally from the Colombian countryside. They were displaced and forced inland because of the horrific fighting there. They did not want to move - the city had no place in their hearts. Towards the end, I sat watching a breakdancing group perform. The music began and I felt mesmerised. Then to my surprise a small boy, came to the front of ‘the stage’ and started to dance, he was very good! Suddenly I felt desolute and joyful within the same breath. A tear developed in my left eye and rolled down my cheek, I wiped it away quickly before anyone saw. At that moment I realised that this little boy was barely a few years older than my baby nephew at home. The thought came into my head - what if he had been born into a Colombian life, would he be taught to dance? To show the world that there is more to life in Comuna 13 than the violence and crime that it has previously suffered. I was sad because I now knew the real story behind Comuna 13, and missed my nephew hugely. However also happy because I could see that this neighbourhood has so much passion for life. The dancing represents a more hopeful future for them and future generations, much like the murals that cover the walls. The murals not only serve as reminders to locals of the past but they also represent a brighter future. The murals, dancers and escalators provide a reason for me, and other travellers to go and visit a once forbidden area. The escalators enable two worlds, the past and the present to collide. To integrate and grow as one creating a better future for Medellin, but more importantly to create a new identify for Comuna 13.