The quiet village that was once Latin America, which brought to life its own sociocultural uses and customs, has stopped being this way. The constant flux of people fleeing from relentless violence in their own countries and who are desperately seeking a place to live with dignity, has created another dynamic: one where violence, lawlessness and money are creating other realities.
Eduardo Andrés Sandoval Forero*
These migrants, in their search for the “American dream”, are facing new forms of violence and exploitation along their journeys to other countries. Each step on their path is laden with suffering and the hope of finding a minimum standard of dignity. On their journey they face the pain of being uprooted, the brutality of criminal gangs, and trafficking networks who exploit their vulnerability.
This flux of people is leaving a deep imprint on the border communities; altering their social and economic structure.
The migrants’ route has an impact on the economic, social, cultural, political and power changes in the areas they pass through. Towns like Acandí, Necoclí and Capurganá in the subregion located in the Darien Forest in Colombia, are experiencing significant changes due to the constant flux of migrants crossing the region of Darien to reach Panama, going through Central America, Mexico and reaching the United States.
In the town of Acandí, I asked the motorbike taxi driver responsible for moving migrants: “Don’t you have any trouble transporting us, mate?”.
His response was, “You guys are not illegal. You were before, but now you can go around the whole country with no problem. This isn’t forbidden, these motorbike taxis are authorised”.
I asked him how many motorbike taxis there were and he told me there were a total of 37, but they cannot cope. “We are working night and day”. I asked him if the motorbike taxi was his. He replied that it wasn’t. “No. They are from a company and only the drivers who have green vests can carry migrants. Those with yellow vests are for local people”. I asked him the first question because there were 15 people riding in the motorbike taxi and the wear and tear on the bike is huge.
However, the driver told me “The number of migrants coming over the barbed wire fences that Panama is putting up along the border has dropped off now, but in high season we can “squeeze in” up to 25 people, and the bike will deliver”.
“Hey mate, how do people in this town make money?”.
With a certain degree of pride, he tells me: “From cocaine and from the migrants”. “Venezuelan migrants?” I ask.
“Most of them,” he replies. “But everyone passes through here, even the Chinese, Africans, Cubans, Haitians, everyone. Also, Colombians who are risking everything on this venture”.
“Doesn’t it cause problems with the authorities?”. His response was blunt, “No. The authorities can’t do anything here. The ones in charge are the others, the ones with real power. It is them that they are accountable to. We were really messed up before and since they arrived, there is work, there is money, and there is movement”.
Employment changed, the sociocultural dynamic was transformed, and the social perception of being in a better state with supposed security and support, is undoubtedly one of the shifts in Acandí, Necoclí and Capurganá and other towns. The illicit economy has provided great dynamism where territorial, population and economic control is found completely in the hands of the Gulf Clan (or the Gaitanist Self-Defence Forces of Colombia), a powerful, illegal arms and finance organisation that protects the drug trafficking routes and has control over migrant traffic.
The “boom” from coke and the business from controlling routes crossing the Darien Forest have profoundly changed these populations’ occupations. Fishermen, small businesses, yucca, plantain and fruit farmers have all abandoned their traditional jobs and have become employed within the two previously mentioned illicit activities. Now these products arrive on boats at very high prices. I asked five “carriers” of migrant luggage what they did before this job. They replied that they were farmers, but this is a very hard job that paid them very little: 50,000 Colombian pesos per day ($12.50). The Gulf Clan salaries far exceed minimum wage.
Like the men, a high proportion of women have left their jobs in restaurants, hotels, cafes and other service industry roles. These have been taken up by people coming from other regions of Colombia.
Being within the dynamic of the illicit economy generates a culture of complicity and collaboration, of the “easy life,” of getting “money with little effort.” Tourism is declining due to growing insecurity and legal businesses such as hospitality, restaurants, handicraft workshops and cafes have been severely affected.
In these towns where the State is absent, is very weak or where part of the government is subject to or colluding with the Gulf Clan, control does not just come from violence in the territories, but it is also a social and cultural control that leads to new habits and customs on a personal, family, social and community level.
The Gulf Clan exercises territorial control over local communities and over the different migratory routes in Urabá and in the jungle. It is the employer of personnel at its service for the reception and transfer of migrants in the towns and in the jungle, boat operators, guides (coyotes), luggage carriers, those who provide food and water, and those who sell basic equipment for the journey, such as wellies, waterproofs, tents, flasks, hydrogen peroxide and hats.
It is undoubtedly a complex military, administrative and financial organisation of migrant trafficking in Colombia.
This social, economic and cultural world is built daily by the hegemonic control of the Gulf Clan, with the logistics of reproduction of survival in illicit and dehumanising activities.
The economy has been transformed and the new culture of lawlessness, easy life and easy money has been imposed, disestablishing the social fabric of communities that, a few years ago, were rooted in agricultural work, various services, fishing and construction, with mutual support and community collaboration.
*Eduardo Andrés Sandoval Forero: Dr. of Sociology. Research Professor at the Centre of Applied Research for Social Development. Autonomous University of Mexico State. Emeritus Researcher of the National Council of Science and Technology. Email: forerosandoval@gmail.com
(Translated by Donna Davison. Email: donna_davison@hotmail.com) – Photos supplied by Eduardo Andres Sandova and authorised for publication
.jpg)
