Jordan Salama’s first book, Every Day the River
Changes: Four Weeks Down the Magdalena,
chronicles his journey down Colombia’s greatest
waterway. Florence Goupil, a French-Peruvian
photographer, focuses on the environment and
on Indigenous communities in Latin America.A member of the
Guardia Indígena
looks over the hills
of Tierradentro, an
archaeological park
and UNESCO World
Heritage site in Cauca.
Beside him, a staff
nailed atop a sacred
rock marks Native
authority over the
land. Despite death
threats, guardians
feel a responsibility
to protect the natural
and cultural treasures
of Colombia.masterminds of only 111 of the 500-plus murders
of human rights defenders documented by the
Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human
Rights since 2016, and had convicted only 15
of those who plotted the murders. The judicial
system is virtually nonexistent in rural areas for-
merly controlled by the FARC.
Francia Márquez Mina is one of Colombia’s
most prominent activists; her work driving
out illegal gold miners from Afro-Colombian
communities in Cauca Department won her
the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize
in 2018. She fled her hometown in 2014 after
repeated death threats. On May 4, 2019, she
survived an assassination attempt in Santander
de Quilichao, when several men opened fire
with guns and grenades, injuring three of her
government bodyguards.
“Nothing is being done to actually end the
killings,” Márquez lamented. “We have a state
that is allowing us to be murdered.”
Still, many social leaders feel they have no
choice but to continue their work despite the
risks— even if it means using burner phones,
changing daily routines, or moving every few
weeks. “It’s up to us” to save communities
under threat from exploitation, said Márquez,
a long-shot candidate in Colombia’s May 2022
presidential election. “If we don’t, there will
be no change.”T
HE MAY 15, 2019, march to
protest Salamanca’s murder
was a prelude to more.
That November, Colombia
was rocked by nationwide
demonstrations of discontent.
In the first half of 2021, the country again erupted
in rallies against tax hikes, rising poverty levels,
and slow implementation of the peace deal.
When riot police cracked down on protesters in
cities including Cali, Pereira, and Ibagué, dozens
were killed and hundreds were injured.
The plight of social leaders is a central griev-
ance for protesters nationwide. Yet the carnage
continues: In 2021, 165 murders of social leaders
were registered by INDEPAZ as of mid-December.
Meanwhile, Colombia’s countryside—home to
immense reserves of biodiversity and vital car-
bon sinks found almost nowhere else on Earth—
suffers at the hands of developers and criminals.
Looking down on the green hills of the massif
in 2018, Salamanca and I watched a thin layer of
clouds blanket the river valley, creating the illu-
sion of smoke rising from the land. Improving
livelihoods in former conflict zones while safe-
guarding communities and natural resources is a
long-term undertaking, Salamanca told me.
“It’s like buying an abandoned farm,” he said.
“You have to put a lot of money and a lot of work
into it, and then wait a while, hoping someday
for the results to show.” jDEFENDING THE LAND 119