La Ciudad Bolivar
First: all that stuff I wrote about Bogotá being the land of milk and honey was true. In some places it’s a nice place most of the time and in most places it’s a nice place some of the time. But in some places, it isn’t ever nice at all. One of those places is la Ciudad Bolivar. This is the largest informal settlement in Colombia, an infamous shanty town on the western outskirts of Bogotá. I went there today.
Colombia has, to be sure, a lot of problems. The biggest by far is the violence. In every war-torn country there is a chicken-or-egg problem: does the poverty cause the violence, or the violence, the poverty. After one week, I believe it’s the latter. Colombians are far too educated, work far too much, suffer from far too many diseases, and have far too many natural resources to be poor in the absence of conflict. It is not inspired by poverty. As a Colombian told me, the war is very much an ideological one deeply rooted in the colonial history, foreign intervention, and the nation’s unfortunate proclivity for growing coca.
The most important consequence of the violence--aside from the obvious problems of war--is the displacement of some 3 million people (says the Economist). Called desplazados, they are a huge population that has fled the country side to come to the cities. Primarily they have abandon lives as farmers and now struggle to survive in and around all of Colombia´s major cities. As such, almost none have any formal education and no opportunity to use skills as farmers. As they have fled a war, many are wounded and cannot work. For reasons I do not understand, most of them are children and many are orphans.In some countries, people leave the city to come to the country seeking opportunities in booming industrial centers. South Korea went from being 80% rural to 80% urban after 30 years of economic development. That was good for everyone. In Colombia they are fleeing a violent war and the destruction of their coca fields, which cover some 144 thousand hectares of the nation.
La Ciudad Bolivar is the largest settlement of desplazados and urban poor in the country. Here they live with almost no public services, including electricity, running water, trash disposal, or police protection. In la Ciudad Bolivar there is one police station for every 100,000 people. The streets are full of trash that, I’m told, they dispose of when the rain comes and floods their settlements. Perhaps the rampant criminality is because of the lack of policing, but it’s also clear that the police are scared of the place and stay away.
While I was there I saw: two fights, one gang of Indians chasing a black boy, a mother cooking over a burning pile of trash, teenagers sniffing chemicals, sewage in the street, naked children walking in the same street, and a the body of an old man who had recently died. Most people have never seen a dead person lying in the place where he died. It’s a hard thing to do. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like seeing the naked children with no shoes in the same street as the man who was dead. I wonder what they thought.
Most of the people had shoes, but none of the children did. Everyone was very young. In retrospect, the dead man was the oldest person I saw.
I would have liked to take pictures but I did not bring anything with me more than the fare for the cab. I did get out of the cab. Not for long. The driver who took me there was the forth driver I asked to take me. He said the only other time he had been there it was to look for his old cab, which has been stolen. He said there are chop shops that dismantle all of Bogotá`s stolen cars. He said they can take one apart in a half hour. He came looking for his, but he only found the license plate.
I have made Ciudad Bolivar sound very sad, but the children playing in the streets were laughing and the family eating a diner cooked over burning trash was not hungry. La Ciudad Bolivar was very sad to anyone who has known a lifestyle marked by material comforts and stability. The saddest part is that this is better than the places they have fled.
While I was there I saw: two fights, one gang of Indians chasing a black boy, a mother cooking over a burning pile of trash, teenagers sniffing chemicals, sewage in the street, naked children walking in the same street, and a the body of an old man who had recently died. Most people have never seen a dead person lying in the place where he died. It’s a hard thing to do. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like seeing the naked children with no shoes in the same street as the man who was dead. I wonder what they thought.
Most of the people had shoes, but none of the children did. Everyone was very young. In retrospect, the dead man was the oldest person I saw.
I would have liked to take pictures but I did not bring anything with me more than the fare for the cab. I did get out of the cab. Not for long. The driver who took me there was the forth driver I asked to take me. He said the only other time he had been there it was to look for his old cab, which has been stolen. He said there are chop shops that dismantle all of Bogotá`s stolen cars. He said they can take one apart in a half hour. He came looking for his, but he only found the license plate.
I have made Ciudad Bolivar sound very sad, but the children playing in the streets were laughing and the family eating a diner cooked over burning trash was not hungry. La Ciudad Bolivar was very sad to anyone who has known a lifestyle marked by material comforts and stability. The saddest part is that this is better than the places they have fled.
Here is a website that discusses the rather remarkable urban planning in Bogotà. I have been really impressed by the ingenuity and successes of the municipal government in dealing with the circus that is this city. Given the difficulty of the task, I think Bogotá must be the best governed city in the world. I’ll write about it’s public transit later.http://www.news.harvard.edu/gazette/2004/03.11/01-mockus.html
Colombia has, to be sure, a lot of problems. The biggest by far is the violence. In every war-torn country there is a chicken-or-egg problem: does the poverty cause the violence, or the violence, the poverty. After one week, I believe it’s the latter. Colombians are far too educated, work far too much, suffer from far too many diseases, and have far too many natural resources to be poor in the absence of conflict. It is not inspired by poverty. As a Colombian told me, the war is very much an ideological one deeply rooted in the colonial history, foreign intervention, and the nation’s unfortunate proclivity for growing coca.
The most important consequence of the violence--aside from the obvious problems of war--is the displacement of some 3 million people (says the Economist). Called desplazados, they are a huge population that has fled the country side to come to the cities. Primarily they have abandon lives as farmers and now struggle to survive in and around all of Colombia´s major cities. As such, almost none have any formal education and no opportunity to use skills as farmers. As they have fled a war, many are wounded and cannot work. For reasons I do not understand, most of them are children and many are orphans.In some countries, people leave the city to come to the country seeking opportunities in booming industrial centers. South Korea went from being 80% rural to 80% urban after 30 years of economic development. That was good for everyone. In Colombia they are fleeing a violent war and the destruction of their coca fields, which cover some 144 thousand hectares of the nation.
La Ciudad Bolivar is the largest settlement of desplazados and urban poor in the country. Here they live with almost no public services, including electricity, running water, trash disposal, or police protection. In la Ciudad Bolivar there is one police station for every 100,000 people. The streets are full of trash that, I’m told, they dispose of when the rain comes and floods their settlements. Perhaps the rampant criminality is because of the lack of policing, but it’s also clear that the police are scared of the place and stay away.
While I was there I saw: two fights, one gang of Indians chasing a black boy, a mother cooking over a burning pile of trash, teenagers sniffing chemicals, sewage in the street, naked children walking in the same street, and a the body of an old man who had recently died. Most people have never seen a dead person lying in the place where he died. It’s a hard thing to do. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like seeing the naked children with no shoes in the same street as the man who was dead. I wonder what they thought.
Most of the people had shoes, but none of the children did. Everyone was very young. In retrospect, the dead man was the oldest person I saw.
I would have liked to take pictures but I did not bring anything with me more than the fare for the cab. I did get out of the cab. Not for long. The driver who took me there was the forth driver I asked to take me. He said the only other time he had been there it was to look for his old cab, which has been stolen. He said there are chop shops that dismantle all of Bogotá`s stolen cars. He said they can take one apart in a half hour. He came looking for his, but he only found the license plate.
I have made Ciudad Bolivar sound very sad, but the children playing in the streets were laughing and the family eating a diner cooked over burning trash was not hungry. La Ciudad Bolivar was very sad to anyone who has known a lifestyle marked by material comforts and stability. The saddest part is that this is better than the places they have fled.
While I was there I saw: two fights, one gang of Indians chasing a black boy, a mother cooking over a burning pile of trash, teenagers sniffing chemicals, sewage in the street, naked children walking in the same street, and a the body of an old man who had recently died. Most people have never seen a dead person lying in the place where he died. It’s a hard thing to do. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like seeing the naked children with no shoes in the same street as the man who was dead. I wonder what they thought.
Most of the people had shoes, but none of the children did. Everyone was very young. In retrospect, the dead man was the oldest person I saw.
I would have liked to take pictures but I did not bring anything with me more than the fare for the cab. I did get out of the cab. Not for long. The driver who took me there was the forth driver I asked to take me. He said the only other time he had been there it was to look for his old cab, which has been stolen. He said there are chop shops that dismantle all of Bogotá`s stolen cars. He said they can take one apart in a half hour. He came looking for his, but he only found the license plate.
I have made Ciudad Bolivar sound very sad, but the children playing in the streets were laughing and the family eating a diner cooked over burning trash was not hungry. La Ciudad Bolivar was very sad to anyone who has known a lifestyle marked by material comforts and stability. The saddest part is that this is better than the places they have fled.
Here is a website that discusses the rather remarkable urban planning in Bogotà. I have been really impressed by the ingenuity and successes of the municipal government in dealing with the circus that is this city. Given the difficulty of the task, I think Bogotá must be the best governed city in the world. I’ll write about it’s public transit later.http://www.news.harvard.edu/gazette/2004/03.11/01-mockus.html
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