Confronting Violence in Colombia: A Mother’s Fight for Her Son
In a small village in southwest Colombia, Patricia Elago Zetty found herself on a daunting journey. Her 13-year-old son, Stiven, had vanished amidst the ongoing violence in the region. Without hesitation, Patricia joined five other members of the Indigenous Guard, a local group dedicated to protecting their community. They trekked over rugged mountains to confront the guerrillas they believed had abducted the boys to recruit them for their ranks.
Upon reaching the guerrillas’ camp, they were stopped by armed fighters. After a tense standoff, a commander appeared and agreed to check if the boys were indeed there. After an anxious hour, he returned with Stiven and another boy. The reunion brought immense relief for Patricia, who described the moment as feeling like her “soul returned.”
“It was a victory,” she recalled, her son’s embrace a reminder of the indomitable spirit found in even the darkest circumstances.
The Indigenous Guard, known as Kiwe Thegnas, emerged in 2001 to defend Indigenous territories from armed groups and exploitation of their lands. However, since 2020, as various armed factions intensified their operations in the area, reports surfaced of children being lured into these groups with promises of money and security.
Throughout the region, families face an unsettling reality as young individuals are targeted and recruited by these armed factions. While some manage to escape, others remain trapped, often suffering abuse and indoctrination.
Colombia has grappled with internal conflict for over fifty years due to issues like land disputes and drug trafficking. The various groups vying for control have put Indigenous and rural communities in a precarious position. Following a peace deal in 2016 with one of the largest rebel groups, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), violence did not diminish but instead transformed, with many dissidents forming new factions.
Patricia and other members of the Guard now face daily threats while serving their communities. Each encounter with armed groups is fraught with danger; over 40 members of the Guard have been killed since the peace accord was signed.
Amidst this turmoil, local leaders, like Eduwin Calambas Fernandez, work hard to bring back children who have been drawn into these groups. He recounts a recent effort to rescue two teenagers, only to find they didn’t want to leave, indicating the deep entrenchment of these armed groups in the lives of youths.
The situation grows more dire as youth are promised not just a better life but are often handed a gun instead of a future. This alarming trend is confirmed by organizations monitoring the recruitment of Indigenous youth, highlighting a serious risk as minors are lured by financial incentives.
As the unrest continues, access to education becomes more challenging, leaving children vulnerable. Luz Adriana Diaz, a teacher in Manuelico, noted the change in environment, with armed groups exerting a constant presence nearby. Teachers like her risk their safety to educate the next generation, knowing all too well how easily children can be swayed by the allure of armed groups.
Despite government efforts to curb this recruitment through support programs, many in the community remain skeptical. The lack of a consistent state presence allows armed factions to gain influence, often providing essential services in neglected areas.
Patricia’s story, along with those of countless others, serves as a haunting reminder of the complex dynamics in Colombia—a call for patience and perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds. In the words of Patricia, “We carry staffs while they carry guns, but our fight for our children continues.”
