Green foliage above, the call of wildlife around, surrounded by Green stalks and brown boughs. The Jungle looms with an ever-present buzz. Burried in the Jungle is the concrete bunker, inside the bunker you sit. Then you hear the planes overhead and hide, knowing they could fire-bomb you or launch rockets. Having seen bodies flying and blood spray you want to avoid that at all costs. No bombs explode.
You wait quietly, perfectly still, there have already been bombs exploding dangerously nearby, you sit listening for attacks elsewhere. There are many camps like yours throughout the jungle. For forty years you have been slowly fighting against tyranny of a US backed dictatorship. The US pays the government to fight against so-called communism, but if their alternative is to spray herbicides over farmer’s fields and have interrogation squads throughout the country, how can we sit back? The Drug Lords pay the government to leave them alone, the government takes their money and the US money to fight the drug lords, occasionally spraying a cocoa field or making a raid. But most of the money is to live in luxury while the people are harassed, tortured and taxed to death. So you and your friends got together to stand against this injustice. For some Forty years you have defended freedom through a gorilla war. But the government is not content, because your very existence is a threat.
You hear the roar of vans and the march of boots. You look to your companions, having been committed for decades against the tyranny, you aim your guns scanning the foliage for signs of military. They knew where you were, there has been a snitch. They have come to impose a constitution that the people had no say in and which is only enforced when the corrupt leaders decide to enforce it, for their benefit. For so long you and your companions didn’t give a damb about the Constitution and the Laws, because we were outside that realm.
Sudden and frantic they rush, you fire, letting off small sprays bringing down person after person. They continue rushing in, a bomb goes off, you ears ring, bullets fly and you think that you have nearly four tons of food that the other regiments need to sustain themselves against the oppressors. You fire more bullets, emptying your clip and replacing it. Just as you snap it in, the sharp impact spins you sideways and you are gasping for air. Bombs have fallen around the bunker and the shock alone would be terrifying to anyone less stalwart than yourself. More bullets fly, some of your companions have gone down, you fire more, they fire and in a final spray of bullets you feint. In a few hours you have died.
Your name was Mono Jojoy and you were the second in the command of FARC, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia. Your death is a crippling blow to the resistance. The forces of tyranny, who are in power only by creating fear, can they be overcome? Jojoy’s death meant the capture of food and loss of free land. The stakes of this and other wars of resistance are literally the difference between military dictatorships and personal human sovereignty. Will you join the resistance?