Dream Big

I've been saying these words for a while now, but I think it is just barely starting to set in: I am almost done with my time here in Colombia.  In fact, I just booked my one-way ticket back to the states for May 1st.  Wowie.

On one hand, I am so excited for what's to come:  I will be spending June and July in the Mississippi Delta as a School Director with TFA's Summer Institute.  Amazing.  The Delta is just about as foreign to me as Colombia was and I cannot wait to fully immerse myself in this new world.  I've already met some of my incredible school team and am honored to be surrounded by energetic, passionate, talented people this summer.

After the Delta adventure, I will be returning to my home town of Denver, Colorado to be starting as an Assistant Principal with Lake middle school, which is part of the West Denver Prep charter network.  As many of you know, this opportunity is practically a dream come true and I could not be more grateful and excited to begin this work.

On the other hand, I am sad beyond words to be leaving Colombia.  Colombia represents a dream come true for me.  The dream, for many years of my life, was to live in a Latin American country, not as a tourist, but as somebody who pays bills and rent there, works there, goes to the gym there, shops locally, establishes friends there, learns the city by heart, becomes fluent in Spanish there, experiences the good, the bad and the ugly of living there...and this past year in Colombia has given me that dream.  These days, I get teary-eyed almost every time I think about my year here and how sad I am that it is almost over.

Speaking of dreams...I've decided that it is worth it to dream.  And to dream really, really big.  In fact, I think it is the process of dreaming and scheming that keeps me fully alive as a human.  I think that many of us- and I too have experienced this temptation- cut this process off at the fear of failing to realize our dreams.  I'm ok with the reality that not all dreams come true.  I recently told my friend, Melissa that if I actually do 30% of the things I dream about and say I want to do, that will be a damn good life.

There are so many things that I wanted to do in Colombia that I just won't be able to do, and that's ok.  In the wise words of Dr. Seuss, "don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened." I'm not going to dwell on the things I didn't do; instead I'm going to live with a grateful heart in regards to the beautiful people I've met, the love I've experienced, the adventures I've had, the memories that are now a part of my story.

That's all I've got right now; a message of gratitude, sadness, sentiment, excitement and hope for what's to come.  And to just say, dream big, friends.  It will be worth it, I promise.

Libérenlos Ya

Just days before I arrived for a mini-vacation in Villavicencio, Colombia, ten hostages were released from captivity by the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) and were welcomed home at Villavicencio’s airport.  These hostages are police officials and soldiers; some had been held captive for as long as 14 years.  14 years.  This amount of time in captivity is as incomprehensible to me today as it was when I learned the details of these kidnappings during Colombia’s annual march in December to protest the FARC.

The march was an emotional and powerful day that I remember clearly. We started a few blocks south of my apartment on la septima (a main highway road) and congregated in the financial district, shaded from the unusually sunny day by tall office buildings.  Many people had tears in their eyes as their voices joined the chants of support: “Secuestrado, amigo, Colombia está contigo” (kidnapped, friend, Colombia is with you), “Libérenlos ya” (free them now), “No mas FARC” (no more FARC) and “Libertad” (freedom).  People were holding hands, standing arm in arm, holding each other in support as they cried out these words. Employees inside the office buildings waved from windows with white balloons and flags and scattered white paper down on us like snowflakes.

I noticed a police officer patrolling the median, there to keep the peace (even though it was clearly a peaceful protest), mouthing the chants in unison with the crowd and waving a white flag.  I asked for a photo. 

 Many people were holding signs with pictures of the soldiers and police officials who had been kidnapped, with the number of years that they had been held hostage – ranging from 7 to 14 years.

Four months later, the men on these posters have been released.  My eyes welled up as I watched the video of these men getting off the plane as free men for the first time in years – one man wrapped in a Colombian flag, another in the arms of his family, another requiring assistance to walk.

While this release is, without doubt, a step in the right direction and potentially a sign of a weakening FARC, there are still an estimated 700 civilians held captive by the FARC. Before coming to Colombia, the violent history of the FARC was something I had learned about from the news and textbooks.  Yet on the day of the march, I felt that I belonged to the crowd and to the cause. We were united in spirit and in numbers and I was overwhelmed by the pride and sadness that permeated the streets.

It seems that Colombia is experiencing these same things upon the release of these soldiers; although faced with the tragedy of the past and present reality, there is a palpable sense of pride in their country and hope for a peaceful future. This hope and pride defines the Colombians I have met in my time here.  It IS the majority voice, not the minority.  I am humbled to be one more voice demanding libertad for Colombia.