After fleeing rural massacre, former tobacco farmer sells coffee in the city
Source: United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR)
Date: 07 Dec 2009
CARTAGENA, Colombia, December 7 (UNHCR) – Grimaldo Hernandez looks wistfully at a photograph of the football team he used to play for in a northern Colombia village. "Three of them are dead, eight are displaced," he said, pointing at the 18 young men in the snapshot.
The image brings back bitter-sweet memories of a rural life in El Salado, where 41-year-old Grimaldo grew tobacco like most of his neighbours, brought up a young family and played football at the weekend with his pals.
The course of his life changed forever over a few days in February 2000, when paramilitaries attacked the village in Bolivar department, leaving at least 60 people dead, including this three teammates. Scores of inhabitants, Grimaldo and his family among them, fled to urban areas to escape the violence.
A growing number of the people that UNHCR helps around the world, both refugees and internally displaced people like Grimaldo, live in urban areas, where they face many new challenges and must often fend for themselves.
Grimaldo found refuge in El Pozon, a rough, tough shantytown on the outskirts of Cartagena, Bolivar's sprawling capital on the Caribbean. The authorities have registered some 60,000 internally displaced people (IDP) in Cartagena, most of them living in impoverished suburbs like El Pozon.
When Grimaldo, his wife and two children (a third was born in El Pozon) arrived nine years ago, there was no running water, no electricity, no street lights and no sewage system. The future looked bleak, but the former farmer was determined to find employment.
"I tried to do several things. I worked in an ironmonger's shop. I worked on a farm not far from the city," he recalled. But he was spooked when one of the farmer owners took a shot at a worker, mistaking him for a robber. "When I saw that, I thought to myself: 'I didn't escape from a massacre to be killed here by mistake.' And I left," Grimaldo explained.
He ended up selling small, steaming hot cups of tinto, Colombian slang for coffee, on the rutted streets of El Pozon, where there is a potential market of tens of thousands of people.
But while he was starting to bring in a regular income, things at home were difficult. "For the first two years after the displacement, my son Javier – who was nine at that time – was angry and violent a great deal of the time. He had problems at school, he grabbed other kids by the neck," Grimaldo noted.
Javier seems to be still suffering from the trauma of the attack in El Salado. "A couple of months ago he was coming home and saw a couple of policemen in front of our door. He couldn't speak for a couple of minutes. He told us that he thought 'I'm dead,'" the boy's father added.
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http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/rwb.nsf/db900SID/SKEA-7YHHPY