Daviny sat next to me in the school’s cafeteria, her head bent closely to the paper as she bit her bottom lip in concentration. We were in La Aguada, a rural school in the FARC controlled mountains of northwest Colombia. She was showing me that she could write the letters of her name. Her parents do not read or write—but she does. Daviny is nine. She wants to be a teacher. She walks a couple of kilometers on mountain trails to school every day. Violence is part of Daviny’s life. Her older brothers have been recruited by the FARC. When a group of FARC militants showed up at the door of the family’s hut, they knew: they could either join the guerillas or be killed. As Daviny and I worked, one of the brothers was watching us from the edge of the jungle. In another world, at another time, he would have been a student in the school, too. He is fourteen. Now, he was a militant watching from the margins.
The school is three concrete-block rooms, painted bright
yellow with blue trim—the colors of Colombia. Large windows look across a grassy
field and out over the valley and jungle-wrapped mountains. There are no other
buildings in sight. These mountains are exquisitely beautiful and they are
exquisitely dangerous for outsiders. They are remote, undeveloped, sparsely
inhabited and therefore a perfect hideout for the FARC. In the valley to the north,
the paramilitaries remain in control. In the middle of that valley, a military base
stands watch. Violence is commonplace.







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