EVERYBODY said this would happen.
I WAS SO EXCITED to begin my class on land, politics, and territory in Colombia and to get out of northern Bogotá bubble at least once a week! But when I told my Colombian friends, colleagues, and students that I was going to take a class at the Universidad Nacional, pretty much everybody scoffed that I was bound to miss at least a few classes because of protests at the notoriously radical university. Usually the remark was kind of snide and hinted at (at the very least) disdain for the leftist riff-raff that attends what is one of the most competitive universities in Colombia. Some people were more supportive. My friend and colleague Carlos, who appreciated the awesomeness of my photo with Subcomandante Marcos, laughed knowingly when I told him that my class was in the sociology department. He knew perfectly well that it wouldn't bother me a bit to hear that, in his words, "Oh, those guys are a bunch of communists." I figure that if the long history of shocking inequality and violence that have marked the land issue in Colombia doesn't get you fired up and make you want to bust our your Che Guevara T-shirt, then I really don't know what will.
ALL OF THAT TO SAY, what I saw this afternoon didn't come as a great shock to me. When I got off the TransMilenio (Bogotá's astoundingly irritating but sometimes convenient 
trolley bus system) at the univeristy stop, it seemed like something was up. I mean, I don't have a lot of experience with gun shots, but the "pop! pop!" sounds I was hearing did not seem to bode well. Needless to say, I headed out of the station to see what was going on.
trolley bus system) at the univeristy stop, it seemed like something was up. I mean, I don't have a lot of experience with gun shots, but the "pop! pop!" sounds I was hearing did not seem to bode well. Needless to say, I headed out of the station to see what was going on. THERE WERE HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE lining the several pedestrian overpasses that cross one of Bogotá's major thoroughfares ("la 30") near the entrance to the university. The were riot police at the entrance, on the median strip, across the street, and on some of the walkways. There was a very ominous-looking black armored car/tank thing parked in the gate of the school. It was clear that the shit was about to hit the fan.
AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT, I had brought my camera so I could take pictures of the sometimes-over-the-top-but-very-compelling leftist graffiti that adorns the campus so I could include it in a blog post about my class. I'm no Christiane Amanpour or Nicholas Kristof, but you can be sure I was going to document this new, developing situation from my excellent perch on the overpass. By this time, 
the police were shooting tear gas canisters from the median strip as the people around me shouted various obscenities at them. Some were shooting from closer to the university gates. Some came pounding up the stairs to take a position on the adjacent overpass to ours. Some were revving their motorcycles on the other side of the street. You could barely see the students inside, but every once in a while I caught a glimpse of people with their faces covered hurling rocks. You could smell the tear gas in the air, but it was kind of far away -- at least until one of the cops shot a tear gas canister and it hit the giant TransMilenio sign and bounced back across la 30 to his feet. Everybody booed and hissed and jeered at his lousy aim. But then everybody also figured out that the canister was way too close to us on this breezy afternoon. And boy, did the wind catch that smoke and send it our way. I've been to a lot of protests, but I've never had a dose of tear gas. It is terrible. With just a whiff, my eyes were watering like crazy, my throat was on fire, and I was coughing uncontrollably. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to really get a faceful of that stuff.
the police were shooting tear gas canisters from the median strip as the people around me shouted various obscenities at them. Some were shooting from closer to the university gates. Some came pounding up the stairs to take a position on the adjacent overpass to ours. Some were revving their motorcycles on the other side of the street. You could barely see the students inside, but every once in a while I caught a glimpse of people with their faces covered hurling rocks. You could smell the tear gas in the air, but it was kind of far away -- at least until one of the cops shot a tear gas canister and it hit the giant TransMilenio sign and bounced back across la 30 to his feet. Everybody booed and hissed and jeered at his lousy aim. But then everybody also figured out that the canister was way too close to us on this breezy afternoon. And boy, did the wind catch that smoke and send it our way. I've been to a lot of protests, but I've never had a dose of tear gas. It is terrible. With just a whiff, my eyes were watering like crazy, my throat was on fire, and I was coughing uncontrollably. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to really get a faceful of that stuff. I THINK IT WAS AT ABOUT THIS POINT that I thought about how my parents and my principal would KILL me if they knew where I was. I hung around to get some more photos and videos but eventually figured I should probably get my gringa self the hell out of there. So, eyes stinging, I crammed myself into the mobile sardine can that is the TransMilenio at rushhour and headed back north to my bougie enclave.
SO WHAT WAS IT ALL ABOUT? As explained to me by the very nice, very pierced young man standing next to me, it had to do with the selection of the university's next rector. Apparently, the university went through some kind of voting or consultation process that allowed students, professor
s, and alums to vote from among seven candidates. Lawyer and political scientist Leopoldo Múnera won by a giagntic margin, earning something like 75 or 80% of the vote. But today, when the Consejo Superior of the university announced the name of the new rector, it was . . . not Múnera. Instead, they installed Ignacio Mantilla, a mathematician and former dean of the faculty of sciences. Besides the fact that people were pissed about a supposedly democratic process being a farce, it's complicated by the fact that Mantilla is like the poster boy for increased involvement of the private sector (read: business) in public education in Colombia -- a new law about which had tens of thousands of people in the street last year protesting. I went to a couple of newspapers' websites to try to do a little fact-checking about this explanation, but all I found were really generic reports about Mantilla and his background. Given the political context in Colombia right now, in the absence of a better explanation, I'm going with the story as told to me by the university student with a stainless steel rod in his nose.
s, and alums to vote from among seven candidates. Lawyer and political scientist Leopoldo Múnera won by a giagntic margin, earning something like 75 or 80% of the vote. But today, when the Consejo Superior of the university announced the name of the new rector, it was . . . not Múnera. Instead, they installed Ignacio Mantilla, a mathematician and former dean of the faculty of sciences. Besides the fact that people were pissed about a supposedly democratic process being a farce, it's complicated by the fact that Mantilla is like the poster boy for increased involvement of the private sector (read: business) in public education in Colombia -- a new law about which had tens of thousands of people in the street last year protesting. I went to a couple of newspapers' websites to try to do a little fact-checking about this explanation, but all I found were really generic reports about Mantilla and his background. Given the political context in Colombia right now, in the absence of a better explanation, I'm going with the story as told to me by the university student with a stainless steel rod in his nose.
