Last month, Ahmsa Board Member Justin Milner visited the communities in which Ahmsa works. Below are his reflections about the eye-opening experience.

“I’m so glad you came up here.  Down there, in Bogota, that’s where the rich people live.  But here….this is the real Colombia.”

Leaving Bogota in a hired car, we drove due south towards the outskirts city of Soacha.  Accompanied by Matt ‘Mateo’ Alexander, Ahmsa founder and current Board president, my family (mom, dad, sister, sister’s boyfriend) was venturing out of the confines of the tourist-friendly sections of Bogota on our family trip for the first time. I had recently joined the governing board of Ahmsa and was excited to see the organization’s work firsthand.

On the surface, Bogota looks really impressive—strong infrastructure, great museums, chic restaurants and bars—but we felt like we were getting a sanitized version of the city.  The trip with Mateo promised to show another side of Bogota—and demonstrate why the work of Ahmsa is so important.

Turning off from the highway, we started a long ascent.  At first, people swarmed in the streets in front of clusters of buildings that were sturdy, if relatively unadorned.  The further we climbed, however, the more the road and buildings started to appear more deteriorated.  Soon, the road ended and we continued on a rough dirt road.  Houses became more infrequent and ramshackle.

View from Altos de la Florida

Finally arriving in our destination Altos de la Florida, the view of the Soacha valley and Bogota was spectacular.  Yet, despite the beauty, we would soon learn that the distance between the town—really, a collection of one-room, tin-roofed homes thrown together on the slope of the hill—and the jobs of Bogota and other infrastructure (schools, hospitals, even regular sources of running water) represented a major challenge for everyday existence for all the families in the community.

Amidst the obvious challenges of everyday life in Altos de la Florida, we saw several powerful examples of the positive effect that Ahmsa had on the lives of residents. Everywhere we went, Mateo and Milton were greeted with smiles and hugs, like family members coming by for a visit.  The level of trust, respect, and appreciation was a beautiful thing to behold.  Milton was especially impressive.  A former gang member who had lost both of his parents as a child, he know served as the main project coordinator for many of Ahmsa’s projects.  Milton projected a quiet confidence and you could tell that he had vast credibility with the people with whom he worked.  Milton had been there; he knew what the struggle looked like.

In Altos de la Florida, we met a woman who had used a micro-loan from Ahmsa to open a small store.  The store had been so successful that she had saved enough money to invest in a few cattle from which she sold milk as well.  Another entrepreneur used a loan from Ahmsa to start a multifaceted business that sold phone cards, children’s toys, and stylish ‘hipster’ bags that he knitted himself.  We bought several.

We also stopped at the Ahmsa-sponsored MegaRed Internet Café, the first in the neighborhood of Cazucá, one of the roughest parts of Soacha.  There, we met a group of youth in their late teens who were gearing up for the internet café’s grand opening later that week.  The kids’ smiles and the obvious pride they felt for the operation filled the sparsely decorated room with joy and a sense of hope for the future.  We asked them what they thought people would use the computers for.  They looked at us like we were crazy.  ‘For Facebook!’ they all said.  ‘And to find jobs.’  I guess some things really are the same the world over.

The young leaders of MegaRed

Finally, we ventured to the town’s new jewel: a community center and clinic built with the vision and support of Ahmsa.  Perched precariously on the side of a hill at the top of Altos de la Florida, we saw posters on the walls advertising various classes for youth and adult development: literacy classes, classes on finances, math classes, health classes.  Clearly, the space was well-used.  In fact, when we arrived there was an adult literacy class taking place.  The students—all women—were excited to tell us about the lessons and where they were from.

Virtually everyone in Altos de la Florida had been displaced from another area of Colombia.  In our short time there, we met people from all reaches of the country, from the pacific coast to the Caribbean coast, from the interior coffee regions to the middle of Bogota.  The families had been forced out for individually distinct, yet collectively similar reasons.  The entire group was shocked by a statistic that Mateo shared with us: only the Sudan has more internally displaced persons (IDPs) than Colombia.  Over 4 million—out of a population 42 million—have been displaced since 1985.  A handful of those four million were standing in front of us, working hard to compose a new community that would be safer than their last.

Community Center, Altos de la Florida

As we were walking out of the classroom, I started a conversation with an older woman from the community.  Signaling her house 200 yards from the community center, she said that the class was giving her a second chance to learn.  She said that she had never gotten past third grade, so she felt like she was learning everything for the first time.  I mentioned that school gets to be more fun the older you get and she smiled.

Then she stopped and, touching my shoulder and pointing towards the capital city she said in Spanish: “I’m so glad you came up here.  Down there, in Bogota, that’s where the rich people live.  But here….this is the real Colombia.”

Without question, Ahmsa is working in the real Colombia and having a real effect.