The burning goes to a desperate pace, as whom it(he,she) wants to extract wealth forcibly to this land that does not have her(it), that has her(it) above and they are burning her. The wood, the medicines, the unsuspected utilizations, the oxygen and especially the life, get lost in a tide of fire, which advances about the tropical jungles.
In a small brook next to the Port, a colonist wanted to invade the area and to use a little house of step that had made native(indigenous). It(he,she) was summer and a small flame was enough to him(her) to untie the fire. Concerning minutes it was climbed up to the glasses of the trees and got hold of everything what existed in way. The small lizards were getting entangled with the pasture and the fire was seizing them in an instant. They were giving a short shriek, desperate and the death was coming to them immediately later. It is a death anybody that I do not wish. If there were nests not even the shade stayed. The small thing that was staying of the jungle diminished to burnt trunks and a cap of ash of a few centimeters. A month the pasture knew the light and one saw green between(among) the ashes. It(he) seemed to be very satisfied.
Fighting against the fire is a frustrating task, more if you are only. For the iniridense it is the most natural thing to see it thereabouts. It is the same thing that(that) to see to happen to someone with a machete. They have the firemen's smallest body, but only it(he,she) intervenes if some house is burned. If someone throws himself(herself) to extinguishing the mount it(he,she) is because it(he) is mad. It(he,she) seems to them that it is good for the agriculture and to banish the long-legged ones.
The "land" that it(he,she) supports to the jungle, it is not another thing that vegetable(plant) residues, between(among) rotten and alive(vivacious). If the mount lies down, ultimately they do not stay but small plants of pasture and bare(peeled) sand. Anyhow, the colonists have knocked down it and burned cows to put him. The image of the estate llanera* and Andean it(she) tries to be reproduced in an area that dies easily. The indigenous was burning the land, but they were leaving her to rest during the following years, only they were taking advantage of the fruit-bearing trees. When the biggest plants(floors) were stopping producing, they were going away elsewhere, with everything and you marry. Already Inírida can not do the same thing. A giant as such, with persons used to the sedentarism and happy to find a place where to remain, is not going to move until it happens slightly very seriously. On the contrary, the zones that are left by farmers are leaving place to the settlement that grows. After quite(everything), always there remains great jungle " pa it ' to be hot ". " Here land is what exceeds " they said to me. From the plane, just before coming, they can it(he,she,I) turns(turn) the burning that surround Inírida, as if the people(village) was an ember that burns what has around.
The Kogui, the paeces, the waunan and many(many people) others have remembered that it is the ambition of the man the one that destroys his(its) own(proper) form of life. Still(yet) jungle remains great (thanks to
!), but if the fellings and the burning continue since they go...
The " agricultural border " expands and his(its) expansion does not serve for anything, so(then) what produces rots in the floor(flat). The peasants do the same thing that in other parts, but, how there are no process, there is no infrastructure, the products or they languish or get lost. The lands that are in the interior sound subused, ill-treated and condemned to the desertification in many cases. In the Cauca there is one, where there were rivers, and cultures(culturing) in black and fertile lands. Today only there is a peladero*. The nearby settlements are dying because the peasants are going away; some learned with the experience, others are going elsewhere to repeat the same mistake. Since(as,like) in the hills of Cali, where urban peasants extract chunks of area to volquetadas*, they pay a misery to them, without mattering that the work is exhausting, that the Sun does not have piety, which the work can turn(become) water. Many(many people), as them, are finishing with little air that stays in the city in the middle of so much(much,many) smoke.
The drug traffickers for his(its) side buy the smallholders lands, to see them, to be able that they have and enjoy his(its) power, as landowners who are not. As if the power of the landowners had used as something, or to possess was making you a better person. The Agrarian Reform that was never done in Colombia, there has today a powerful opponent, who is not complicated at the moment of expelling to whom it(he,she) gives the desire, which does not matter for him(her) to throw anyone to looking for life in another part...
When child was, I could see a water birth, in an estate in Sonso. In a tiny small jungle of a hillside; the hill in which age was situated one only herdsman. A trickle of crystalline water was going out of the land, leaves(sheets) rotted under the shade of the trees. Maybe it(he,she,I) never returns(never return) to see it, two births dry off per day in the country. The same keeper of the estate inflamed the herdsman on order of his(its) boss, our friend.
Once it(he,she) was coming from Bogota, to finger, on the metallic planchón* of a tractomula*. There to the overdraft I contemplated an eclipse of moon and felt happy. But I came to Yumbo and felt rare(strange), different smells all between(among) yes, at all similarly to the smell of the field. They all were sickening, they all were manufacturer(industrial). I saw men checking sewers, since(as,like) looking for them. And I remembered(reminded) the news, the testimonies, of people who touched him to go out running of his(its) neighborhood, since a poisonous gas was chasing(prosecuting) them to kill them. And I came to Cali and felt a cold that did not know, in the north to the dawn. And to the midday I went to the center, with the terrible Sun above, to see people being trodden to yes same, apachurrada*, breathing smoke, traversing him to the cars.
And I see chimneys and cars coughing. None done in my mother land, all(all) copied or brought of another part. The latent deterioration, it(he,she) chases(prosecutes) me on any part, this way one does not want to see it. In the rasquiñas* of the people, which the doctors say that they are allergies. In the peladeros* of Cali, which still(yet) have something of hills. In the trees died to machete, just person opposite my house, in the corner, in the park. And the fire advances in the small thing of green that stays, in Christ Rey, in the hill of the flag, in The Jets, in the daily heap of leaves(sheets) that is hot the neighbor. In the mountain of branches that the watchman incinerates, " in order that they do not hinder him ". And it(he,she) is not only for my house, is everywhere.
The urbanizers only leave fifty centimeters of garden and sow giant plants(floors). Some years later, the troublesome neighbors knock down ficus, charcoal-burners, acacias, chiminangos, not to have to see his(its,her) roots in the middle of his(its,her) houses. To protect his(its,her) pipelines and his(its,her) walls, more valuable that(that) an innocent tree.
But, ¿ they are not the same neighbors who contract a type in order that it(he,she,I) extracts(extract) traversing the "disposable ones"? That him(her) put alarms ultrasensitive to his(its,her) cars in order that nobody dares to touch them? That have dogs that eat better than any beggar?
I feel surprised, as the rural faces that I saw in Sonso, years ago, when they saw the river of all his(its) life to turn(become) small brook in summer, and wild torrent in winter. Or as what I felt, in the fair, when I saw to take a man with the pallor of the dead man, hurt in the half of the back for a car ghost.
Cali, ¿ it(he,she) is through that you can not live?