Sometimes I just dont tell peole what is going on in our country, on the streets we grew up on and to the people we know,” she says, eyes forward, no hint of pain in her voice.
“We have already cried so much and experienced such devestation and fear, but as the government controlls most of the news, we feel as if most of the world just doesn’t know the full story.”
I had asked her of her family living in Venezuela, where civil unrest has seen citizens shot at point blank while they protest for change.
“I can’t tell you of the violence, because I can’t bear to watch the videos sent to me by my friends and family still there, but I can tell you of the terror.”
– Issue 5 full copy available here.-
More stories from Colombia:
We’ve passed the road works causing the jam and now the cars fly through the winding streets, like a flooded river. I flinch as we swing across an intersection, narrowly missing another car who deftly weaves out of the way and carries on with his own homeward mission.
IMG by Alejandro Cegarra, Associated Press.
No Longer a Place to call Home
“I can’t tell you of the violence, because I can’t bear to watch the videos sent to me by my friends and family, but I can tell you of the terror,” she says, shifting her gaze to meet mine. This time you can hear the pain. Her voice tremors as she speaks of the friends and family still there.
Images from Colombia, the home of salsa and Carlos Vives, where cheese is appropriate with any meal.
Wild Rice Collective 