The right surname, the right school, the right country club, entitled citizens.
Like most people, I watched the events of the 10th of September 2020 unfolding in Bogotá in horror and outrage as spontaneous protests – sparked by the killing of an unarmed father of two, Javier Ordoñez at the hands of the police – across the Colombian capital descended into violence and mayhem. Javier Ordoñez was the victim of police brutality, there is
“Papi, did you hear anything?” He asked his father calling along the corridor. “Nothing,” came the reply, even as the dust from fallen masonry and bamboo suggested otherwise. He seemed irritated, as if his absence from his chair in the doorway would cost him customers in need of watch repairs.
Could you come and pick up your post? she asked. The sun’s too strong and I’m looking after myself, you know. Look for the street just off the Calle Átras with a pharmacy on each corner. I know she earns 200 pesos for each envelope delivered, it doesn’t seem fair.
Heralded as the bridge of “reconciliation,” Momposinos believe that road connectivity brings wealth. Instead, cacophonous motorcycles transport day-tripping couples from Magangue here to pass the time posing awkwardly for selfies in colonial doorways and seek accommodation por ratito. Locals feel superior to the visitors and their disapproving expressions speak volumes.