After reading this book, I began to reflect what it is to be from this country. This book made me realize all of the absurdities, all of the consequences of being from a country with an ongoing internal conflict and an inequality rate that's on the roof. I identified with this book immensely not only for all the stories the author tells about everyday life in Colombia, but also what it is to be Colombian in other countries. After browsing my memory of the times i've traveled and the past year I lived in Switzerland, I agree with the author that being Colombian is a struggle. Certainly, it's more of a struggle for more people than others and I am lucky (or we at CNG are lucky) to be of the ones least affected, but it is undebatable that in Colombia everyone, regardless of social class or how much money you have, is a victim.
I myself can recall so many instances where the fact of being Colombian creates a struggle in my life. For example, the fact that my mom doesn't let me walk to school even though it's really close because they might steal all my stuff is a struggle. The fact that for many years my parents couldn't go to several places in Colombia because they might get kidnapped is a struggle. In 2004, my uncle was traveling through a road away from the city. He got stopped by the FARC, and when he tried to escape, several men hidden in the bushes all began shooting at my uncle's car. He managed to get out of the car with no injuries, but he had to run and hide in the forest so he didn't get killed. He spent the night in the forest and the next day he was safe and sound. But just listening to that cold blood story is a struggle. My grandfather owned a big finca in Los Llanos. My mother and my uncles would go there every vacation when they were kids. Many childhood memories of my mom are in that place. When my mom was 18, in 1985, my grandfather was notified that the FARC had seized the Finca and that they would not be able to go there ever again. My grandfather died in 1993 and never returned to the finca. This year, 29 years later, my family went to the finca for the first time in almost three decades. It was very hard to see the ruins of what once the house where my mother spent entire summers.
In Switzerland, I got to see the reputation my country has abroad. When people asked where I was from, and I said Colombia, there were two things that would cross everyone's mind: cocaine and Pablo Escobar. Yes, people are very ignorant (some people didn't even know Pablo Escobar has been dead for more than 20 years, but if my country has that reputation, there's a reason why. That reason is the struggle that affects every Colombian rich and poor every day. The thing that saves all of us from hating our country is our happy people and our rich culture. But for someone who was lived abroad most of their life, like the author if this book, it is not surprising Colombia is worst than hell.
