| | Feels like so long since I got here, lots of memories. Here’s an attempt to re-capture a few of them. We’ll start with the Children’s Crusade and see how much further we get.
I left yesterday a little later than I should have. From my place, it takes 45 minutes or so to get to la Universidad Nacional. I gave myself 40 minutes. I was meeting a friend a friend for lunch before class.
I took my customary Transmilenio. It’s a bus system that functions like an above ground metro, so it has to stop for traffic lights. 5 minutes in we were stopped at one of those, but I didn’t mind. I had grabbed a rare available seat and was comfortable. That’s why it took several minutes of sitting, staring out the window at the stopped traffic to finally realize: this wasn’t caused by a traffic light.
People started to stand up in their seats to try to see what was happening. I gradually noticed a sight I been looking at without comp rending. There were several, many, school kids standing in front of the vehicles heading the opposite way. Boys in their school uniforms, girls in pleated skirts. Many of the them were sitting in front of cars, including the massive Transmilenio busses. The children appeared to be taking things in shifts, taking sitting in front of massive piece of metal duty turns.
They were determined, so things got nasty, of course - large pimpled faced boys in riot gear struggling with puny school kids and the massive anti-riot tank thing the police have that sprays fire fighting pressure water.
I jumped off my bus, stationary as it was, and soon was in the chaos. “Hmm, doesn’t feel like a good idea.” I jumped badly at a loud, sharp noise. Just fire crackers or something.
I made to La Nacional, late for my lunch date, but victorious over anger (had to do with getting reimbursed for 1 Transmilenio ticket, but not 2). I’ve learned here: I will get angry. I just have to swallow it and wait for it to disappear.
See if you can figure out what parts of that were redacted and what was written months ago.
I gripped my pen tighter and resolved to sell the few pesos in my pocket as dearly as possible. The problem with taking the bus home back in the day was I rarely managed to jump off at just the right location. And it was night, and dark. And the wind was blowing.
There’s a dude ahead of me, suspicious looking. Bad sign, he’s stopped. He’s waiting. Oh boy. That’s an awful lonely place to wait for you girlfriend. Take a few more steps. Relief. There’s the girl. They’re kissing now. Whew. Thank you Eros. Guys with girlfriends aren’t threats. I’m a quick study these days. I scan the street at night and make judgments on the risk level of everyone I see. I’ve been fortunate for a long time now.
Klu Klux Klan are creepy, aside from ideology. Their costumes, their masks. Nameless, dark, silent, foreign.
Have you ever wondered how graffiti gets there? I used to. Now I know.
Under cover of night they do their tasks. We all wake up the next morning, scratching our heads. How did they manage to do it? The whole campus is covered with ideological protests. Dang. Time to re-paint, again. Nope, not the way it happened.
They came in force. Nobody said a word. Nobody really acknowledged their presence. Some of them worked, others stood guard. Occasionally I saw squads on the move, traversing the campus on some assignment. I’m not sure how they communicated. I heard no talking. Buckets of paint, all of them masked. Backpacks and shoes were covered with black plastic. Clothing was long sleeves.
I’ve got a cedula now, Colombian identity card. No more worries about id checks. I’m an English teacher. I take the taxi too much. I stay up too late. I’ve got a strange relationship with this host. She may have wooed me with my realizing it. To me the magic is subtle. Quite subtle.
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| | Posted 7/1/2009 12:53 AM - 19 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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