SermonsResuena

Starting out in Bogota with people working for peace

As I write, we are on the last week of our trip to Bogota and Ecuador. For most of the trip, we had bad access to WiFi. Also, the cellular plan Michael paid for in the States wasn’t accessible to my cellphone. After two long calls to Verizon, erasing my phone twice (because I mis-typed the new password), we finally got it working.

But that’s not why you’re here. We spent the first part of our trip with our friend Camila, who used to work at the Gandhi Center in Rochester. She has also been at the Havana Jazz festival with us twice (once with both of us and once just with Michael.) Because of her friendship with a Colombian music producer, she was able to get an invitation for our friend Danielle Ponder to sing at the festival last year.

Colombia has been at war since La Violencia began in 1948. Today, the fighting continues amongst government, paramilitary, criminal gangs, and guerrilla forces. Much of the conflict is fueled by one of highest levels of wealth inequality in the world, as well as unequal land distribution. Indigenous peoples, AfroColombians, and campesinos suffer the worst impacts of both the inequality and the violence.

Camila believes that addressing the violence in Colombia has to begin at the local level. After intensive studies in Nonviolent Communication, she concluded it will not only improve the lives of community members, but keep them from becoming manipulated by armed groups. Communities all over the country armed with Nonviolent Communication tools could hold the key to ending Colombia’s never-ending war.

Accordingly, she founded and is the Executive Director of the organization, Resuena, or “resilience,” which provides these trainings to communities. Earlier this year it became a victim of the Trump administration’s USAID cuts, which provided 90% of its funding. If you would like to support her work, you can donate via PayPal.

A female figure is on a chalkboard surrounded by affirming phrases in Spanish

Camilla also believes in affirming others and herself. She drew this figure of herself for her 43rd birthday. Some of the quotations include the following:
“Grateful for receiving and giving love for 43 years.”
“I choose to see life with the eyes of love.”
“I live in hope”
“Thank you for existing to share in the movement.”

The Ex-Guerrilla Cafe

The next morning we visited La Casa de la Paz, a cafe/bookstore run by ex-guerrilla fighters. The outside was decorated with murals and a lot of people added stickers to smooth surfaces. For example, “Las Cuchas tiene razon”—’the old women are right,” or, “Respondo Preguntas IDIOTAS a $3.000 En TikTok”— “I answer idiotic questions for 3000 pesos on TikTok.”

Deep-set doorway in brick building, On the door are dozens, perhaps hundreds of stickers.
Doorway to Casa de la Paz

Inside Casa de la Paz, they sell books, t-shirts, posters as well as fair trade coffee and other agricultural products. The Palestinian flag bears the quotation, “The weapons that kill Palestinians repress and assassinate our people.”

Casa de La Paz also has a small cafe where people can buy beer (brewed by ex-combatants), cold drinks and light snacks. In the room with the tables and chairs, dozens of butterflies represent an assassinated ex-guerrillas who laid down their weapons for the sake of the 2016 Colombian peace agreement. As of July 2025, the UN Security Council noted that at least 469 ex-combatants had been murdered. Some were murdered by splinter guerrilla groups. A large number were killed by ex-Gaitanista paramilitaries who have gone on to become one of Colombia’s largest criminal gangs. Reasons for the murders include stigmatization, taking part in justice and truth processes, and refusal to be recruited by armed groups.

The majority of men and women who joined left-wing guerrilla groups did so because they wanted a more egalitarian, democratic society. They also wanted to protect regions from right-wing paramilitary groups. However, over the years they saw how their own commanders became corrupt. They saw how ordinary Colombians were sick of violence committed by all armed groups, and how their presence in communities could put those communities in danger.

After four years of negotiations, the Colombian Congress ratified a peace agreement and the FARC-EP, Colombia’s largest guerrilla group, laid down their weapons. Some of the former combatants went to re-integration zones, where they receive an education, job training, or work assignments. Others tried to reintegrate into general society.

One ex-guerrilla, referring to the assassination of his friend by paramilitary groups in 2021 said

Jorge was my pal. He taught me how to be a good guerrillero, a good comrade. He strongly believed in the power of peace and reconciliation. I cannot understand why he was assassinated in front of his family in that bakery.…Jorge used to say to me: ‘You must believe in how peace can change the world. But to heal and be in peace, I do not need to forgive what these paramilitary groups have done to us. Jorge didn’t deserve to be murdered. After his killing, I was broken.

However, even after the killing of his friend, the ex-guerrilla remained committed to the peace process:

We are more determined than ever to comply with the peace accords – this is the reason they want to kill us. We need to defend the peace agreement. Words of reconciliation and hard work are our only weapons now. I am feeling positive. This is the best way to honor the memory of Jorge.

However, killings of the ex-combatants continues.

In 2026, Petro’s government made an agreement with two FARC dissident groups to create new re-integration zones for guerrillas who wish to take part in demobilization, disarmament and reintegration programs.

Last Day in Bogotá

Good-bye to Camila

Photo of Camila Reyes, smiling.  She has long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes.
Camila Reyes, founder of Resuena

The picture I had of Camila for our final day together, didn’t really express who she was. So I took something from a webpage describing her what she does. Her current work is with Resuena, an organization “set out on a dream to expand the access to Nonviolent Communication in Colombia so that it becomes part of the day-to-day culture.”

Below is the bad picture I took of Camila at a diner for breakfast. She really wasn’t unhappy at the time. One of the aspects of Colombian cuisine that Michael really appreciated is the soups, and the fact that Colombians eat soup at breakfast and lunch. I remember with fondness Colombian pastries on previous trip. I

t struck me that this simple diner had works of original art all over the walls. I said it seemed like I saw art everywhere I went in Bogota. Camila told me its presence was especially prevalent in her bohemian neighborhood.

A love of beauty and plants also helps describe Camila’s character. She has plants in every room of her apartment except the utility room. I documented them here:

We decided to go to the Bogota public market and eat all the fruits we hadn’t eaten yet (and we had eaten a lot of different fruits.) The excursion turned into buying fruit that doesn’t need to be turned into juice. Of the fruits you see here, we liked the mangosteen the best (the little brown ones). Since Colombia is full of microclimates, almost anything can be grown. Camila also took us to visit her friend who organizes community-supported agriculture (and allows artists to use her space, because, well, it’s Bogotá).

What else? By the time I got to Bogotá, the bruise I got from my fall in Medellin had grown considerably worse. As it dissipated over time, I realized it had hematoma at the center, which explains why the muscle in my thigh hurt so much when I moved it. I used one of my hiking sticks as a cane for the rest of the trip.

In a moment alone with Camila shortly before we left for the airport, she was discussing her goals for the next few years. She then asked me about my goals. Without thinking, I said, “I’d like to make compassion cool again.” She asked how I planned on accomplishing that, and I said, “Well, maybe that’s what my next novel will be about. Right before we left, she handed me this pin and told me, “This is to remind you that your job now is to make compassion cool again.”