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March 16, 2005
I arrived at the police station in Usme, one of Bogota's poorest localities, around 11 a.m., escorted by Patrolman John Mejia, my guide for the day. Mejia is 25, has olive skin and beautiful green eyes. He has worked as a cop for seven years, all of them at Bogota's community police program. Mejia walked me to the police station's cafeteria, where I found Lt. Raul Nunez perched in front of a video game machine, playing the role of a mercenary who kills guerrilleros to free a hostage. "Do you like PlayStation?" the 21-year-old lieutenant asked me minutes later, as we lumbered uphill aboard a ragged police truck. He slid a CD into the stereo and Mick Jagger's voice soon drowned out the police radio. Jagger crooned "I can't get no satisfaction" and Lt. Nunez sang along, though he didn't quite know the words. I thought about what a surreal moment this was: me, Mejia, Lt. Nunez and our driver, Patrolman Perez, riding in a Metropolitan Police truck through a narrow street of even narrower sidewalks where kids perilously played even as cars drove past without slowing down.
Colombian cops work a lot. If you're a ranking officer, your day starts at 6 a.m. and often doesn't end until midnight. They work 15 days to take two days off, but it's not uncommon to be called to the station to fill in a vacant spot, though that doesn't mean they'll get more money in their paycheck. There are no unions that represent them, for Colombian cops are supposed to be apolitical. They get paid about $300 a month, which is barely enough to make ends meet in Bogota. The single ones, like Lt. Nunez, are allowed to live in the police station, in common rooms of bunker beds that at least allows them to save on rent.
After reading about fufu at the blog kept by my colleague Catherine Poff, I became intent on savoring some exotic Colombian delicacy, so I asked Lt. Nunez to take me some place where only locals would eat. He brought me to Piqueteadero Las Mercedes in Usme and ordered picada, a giant plate of plantanes, yuca, chorizo, country chicken, arepas, and - ready for this? - pig intestines filled with rice bathed in pig's blood, a dish otherwise known as morcilla. Dis-gus-ting!
I don't expect any weird food tomorrow, just some interesting talks with demobilized paramilitary soldiers who have joined President Uribe's reinsertion program and are now living in residencies in Bogota. Stay tuned.
Posted by Fernanda Santos at March 16, 2005 06:33 PM