Nonviolent action on Saturday, July 20, 2002

Hello dear friends and family,

Hope your weeks have started out well. This will be a bit rushed, but I want to write a note about Saturday's nonviolent direct action. I wish you all could have been there! Although relatively small, it was quite a testimony to the faith community's intolerance for current policies of death and desire for a peace with justice. Between 50 to 80 people had already gathered when I arrived. Glowing candles and the tune of a familiar peace song led two friends and I to the group, even though it was not at La Plaza de Bolivar where we planned to hold the event. The plaza, in the midst of government buildings, was closed due to the installation of the new congress. There were only pedestrians and no cars on the streets because it was a holiday, so we created a circle at the nearest intersection. Sympathetic passersby, curious street people and expressionless armed police peppered the crowd.

We sang of peace and read litanies declaring our inconformity to diverse manifestations of violence for about half an hour before the congressional event concluded and the senators and representatives began to leave. Of course we cleared from the street to allow the armored SUVs filled with soldiers, and I imagine one congressperson each, to pass. We continued to sing or stood in silence, positioning the banners to ensure their view was unobstructed. Nevertheless, the police and army were growing wearing of our presence. More police, with heavier armament, appeared. About this time I read the first of the messages sent from all of you-a greeting from Boston Mennonite Fellowship. On this Colombian Independence Day, we stand with you in spirit as you remind each other and all who will listen, that peace comes through peacemaking, not war making. We long with you for the day when you, we, and all people everywhere live together in peace instead of war, with joyful anticipation instead of fear, with bellies satisfied instead of hungry or overstuffed, and nurturing instead of plundering the earth. May you be richly blessed for your creative and courageous efforts toward this peace.

This was not well received by the state security forces. Not only were we organized and going public with our peace stance, we had international support. The tension mounted and we returned to our song sheet. Shortly thereafter, to my disbelief, I heard the unmistakable roar of a tank approaching. We were told they were ready to hose us down. For what, singing prayers of peace?!? I turned to my friend, who read my question on my face. "This," she said with tears flooding her eyes, "is war, Janna." With the tank came additional police or army enforcements, I'm not sure which.

The microphone was passed to Peter Stucky, president of the Colombian Mennonite Church, and he began to pray. As he did so, another tank arrived. And then another. As this gentle pastor, deeply committed to non-violence, prayed for food for the hungry, 10+ police in riot gear marched up to him and created a blockade between him and most of the vigil participants.

Peter continued to address his words to our God of life, but looked out at the scene unfolding in front of him as he spoke. Except for the occasional revving of the tank engine and subtle background street noise, it was quiet as we listened...and waited. He called for justice where injustice reigns, freedom for the oppressed, regard for life over lust for money and power, return of land to landless peasants, safety for Colombia's poor -those most often robbed of life in this senseless violence, wisdom for legislators who have not done justice, loved mercy or walked humbly. He exhorted the new administration and congress to govern in obedience to Jesus´ teachings of reconciliation, nonviolence and love.

In the darkness the fourth and final tank rolled up the hill and stopped just short of the outermost ring of participants.

We sang another song, (what more could we do?) "Make me an instrument of your peace..." and then Peter invited us to close in prayer. Defying all instructions ever given at non-violent direct action trainings in the US, Leticia, Peter's wife, reached out and placed her hand on the nearest riot policeman as he stood poised, waiting for the aggression that never came. He whispered, "May God bless you," as we once more plead for an end to the bloodshed, an end to the fear, an end to this war that threatens the freedom and lives of all who stood and shed tears in longing for peace that night.

To me this speaks powerfully for the need for us to build bridges, continually recognizing the humanity of our "enemies."

Have a good week,

Janna