Bitter-Sweet
The following is a Facebook note I wrote a few days ago. I thought it might be suitable for a blog entry as well (I edited it a little bit for clarifying purposes):
"I finally got to see the whole documentary produced by two major media sources from Colombia about the country's last 25 years of history. It was hard for me not feel shaken, angry, depressed, and ashamed. Colombian history is a one of amorphous conflict and unconventional players: a failed state, numerous insurgent groups, drug traffickers, and politicians of all varieties, all battling in a contest for power. The inevitable result of such contest... the loss if innocent lives.
Some of you might have seen my Facebook status ("Sebastian is wondering how is he going to clean up his country's mess if he can't clean the mess in his own room?"), which alludes to my desire of changing my country for better someday. While the images ran through my computer screen, I felt great pressure on my chest, tears pushed against my eyelids and my teeth gritted. Before writing this entry, the fact that these powerful emotions ran through my body by watching the documentary made me realize the strong urge I feel to change the world (I have given myself the luxury of using this childish, foolish cliche, and I apologize). This realization made reminisce to several experiences I've had in my travels to Europe.
Berlin and Auschwitz have seared a mark on my heart and brain. Auschwitz has undoubtedly changed me, since you can still feel the horror from the past looming on the fields. The thousands of lives tortured, exploited, and thrown away in ashes out of the chimneys still scream the injustice committed upon them. During my visit to the Birkenau section of Auschwitz, I couldn't stop thinking about the many victims of kidnapping, trapped in similar camps under the same treatment the Nazis gave to their prisoners in the Colombian jungle. The empathy with the horror and despair of a family being transported to Auschwitz was also the empathy with the soldiers, policemen, and civilians "muriendo en vida" in the jungle.
Berlin has a different story. For me, Berlin is a monument to German history. Every inch of the city whispers a story from the past. From the Neue Wache, to the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate to the Berlin TV tower. Every building has a story tell. The Monument to the Murdered Jews draws my attention in a special way, since few are the monuments initiated by the civil society that remind you of their greatest failure rather than their greatest victory. The Wall is a scar to the city's face, that reminds you constantly that there was something wrong in the past. Yet, Berliners got over it, they teared it down. A walk around Zoologischer Garten reveals a vibrant city, ready for change, evolving, moving with the trend. Berlin is living history. It reminds you of the tragedies of the past, while it moves forward. It's constantly evolving, and that's the beauty I see in it. History is in the back in your head, so you may avoid the pitfalls from the past.
And now I come here, to this desk far away from home, pondering about my role in this gargantuan task. I compare the effects of the documentary on me to the combined effect of Auschwitz and Berlin. History is important, it makes you realize how bad things can be, so you can avoid being back at that place. There are many reasons to strive for a better future. There is hope, and hope was something had been numbed out of me during my time in college. The last part of the documentary stressed the many aspects in which Colombia has really improved and the reasons Colombians have to celebrate. No matter how dark the times are, in Colombia there is always a reason to smile and enjoy life.
At this point I forgot what the whole point was of writing this note. I just had to express myself somehow. It might have turned out to be an idealistic piece of crap, but I end on a positive note. I've regained some hope. Hope to fight. And the mess in my room has been cleaned up."

