Peacebuilding

Peace was “in the air” in Colombia in 2011.

Blinded by the flare of his rocket launcher, the mercenary lost his footing and missed.

Génesis Salas is a 12-year-old Afro-Colombian girl who lives in a rural area of Medio Atrato, Chocó, a region known for its rich biocultural heritage but also affected by various forms of violence. Children and adolescents frequently drop out of school there, even before finishing grade school, to work in fishing or artisanal mining.

Speaking with Fabián Chaparro is like encountering optimism and a deep-rooted sense of hope. At 37, single, and having spent half his life in the guerrilla, Fabián dreamed of returning to the countryside near his family. His story, titled: Granja porcícola en Huila, ejemplo de emprendimiento liderado por un hombre invidente en reincorporación (Pig Farm in Huila: A Model of Entrepreneurship Led by a Visually Impaired Man in the Reincorporation Process,) eflects his journey.

Derly Patiño entered the room barefoot, accompanied by a group of victims of Colombia’s armed conflict, to participate in a symbolic act. In her hands, she carried some planters that had been repaired in a manner similar to the Japanese method Kintsugi.

La Poderosa, an Afro-Colombian gay man from the rural Colombian town of San Juan de Urabá, was celebrating his 18th birthday in 1999 when paramilitaries abducted him from a public gathering.

The newspaper El Espectador in Bogotá called for a “Christmas truce” in the polarized Colombian political landscape of December 2024. It invited congress members from different parties and former political figures to write a year-end column about their opponents, highlighting their positive aspects rather than their differences or flaws. Not everyone accepted, but those who did showed a courteous and respectful tone toward their adversaries, which included former guerrillas or leaders on the right of the political spectrum.

I’ve always been a bit uncomfortable with the word “peacemaking.” It’s hard to place that discomfort but it is located somewhere around the feeling that it’s presumptuous — that peace could just be made, as if there is a formula, as if enough expertise could engineer it. I’m not against peacemaking, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve come to prefer my peacemaking humble; small-scale, low expectations, consistent over time, and with real impacts on people’s lives.

Ginel Dokoe, a Murui artist from the Colombian Amazon and co-researcher in Sanaduría, a three-year collaborative project exploring alternative ways of naming, thinking about and practicing peace, was asked what “peace” means to him and his culture. “We don’t have a word for peace,” he said.