Skip to main content
An Eye for an Eye….

I believe I used this same title for an earlier blog, but it fits, so I will use it again.

It’s not the first time I have encountered the notion of blood feuds.  I think many of us in the U.S.  grew up with the stories of the 30-year-long Hatfield and McCoy feud that took place in the late 1800s in the rural mountains of Virginia and Kentucky.  That battle between two extended families was even caricatured with cartoons depicting what were considered humorous incidences of backwoods and backward members of the families taking potshots at each other at every opportunity.  The actual feud began with the death of a member of the McCoy family who returned home after fighting in the civil war for the Union and was killed for ‘disloyalty’ by a Hatfield relative who was a member of a group of ex-confederate home guards.   Over a dozen members of the two families were killed as a result of the ensuing campaign of vengeance.

I came across the concept of family feuds in the flesh while working for the international non-profit organization Lutheran World Relief in Central America around 2010; over 120 years after the infamous Hatfield/McCoy feud ended.  There was a period when neither I nor the workers from a local development organization partner could enter into a rural area of Honduras where we were trying to organize a celebration of the end of a project with small farmers of the region.  Reports from community members spoke of opposing groups of heavily armed men who had taken possession of parts of the main road through the area in a flare up of tensions between two groups who had been feuding for at least 3 years.  The dispute began over the reported rape of a young girl and the vengeance killing of the young perpetrator by members of her family.  The feud soon grew out of control, with entire communities at odds and dozens of people killed – including innocent bystanders who got caught up in violent shoot outs between the two bands.  Local Honduran police flatly refused to enter the area after one of their colleagues was found beheaded in an isolated copse of woods.  Later, when things began to calm down and there had been no serious confrontations for an extended period of time, mainly due to the mediation efforts of local church and civic leaders, I was able to finally get back into the area to close out the project.   Driving to one of the communities with members of our partner organization, I found that the truce was holding but still tense:  at a curve in the road ahead, I spotted a group of about 15 cowboy-hatted and booted men hanging out in front of a local store, their horses tied to a variety of posts and trees along the road.  I started to lean out the car window to get a photo of this picturesque scene when the driver warned me to pull my camera back in!  As we passed, I noted that each of the men had a semi-automatic rifle slung over their shoulder and pistols at their hips.  So much for mediation:  It seemed to be a case of “be peaceful but be prepared.”

Now, once again, I find evidence of the ages old practice of a family vengeance and honor killing here in the northern La Guajira peninsula of Colombia, among the indigenous Wayúu peoples.  A Wayúu social worker who labors for us in our projects in the communities tearfully explained that she was under intense strain and asked for our patience and understanding.  A maternal uncle purportedly killed a young member of another clan in a recent dispute over land rights.  There are four elements of Wayúu culture that are pertinent to this event:  Wayúu family hierarchy is matrilineal, with the brother of one’s mother having high status and say in family affairs; the clan structure is extremely important and your link to one of the sixteen predominant clans makes up a great part of your identity; and land ownership and patrimony is also clan specific, with hereditary rights passed from mother to daughter,  The final cultural aspect that was put into play when the young man was killed is that of honor, and the responsibility of the other members of his clan to seek retribution for his death.  The burden falls upon the adult men of the ‘offended’ clan and in turn is directed to the adult males of the other family group.  ‘Adult’ is loosely defined, and there have been cases where the lives of boys as young as 13 or 14 are put into danger.

The anguish and emotional strain of the situation falls most heavily, of course, on the shoulders of the women as they watch their sons, brothers and husbands - on one side of the dispute burdened with exacting the revenge and on the other having to go into hiding or pass their days in expectation of a possible retributive attack.  The women are never directly targeted in this revenge. In the case of the social worker who works with us, the stress was having her four brothers go into hiding, not knowing where they are or when they will be able to safely return.  She fears as well for her oldest son who is fourteen years old. She explained that the other clan had followed custom and had sent a traditional “Palabrero” or “Talker”, a non-partisan mediator designated  to seek some sort of non-violent resolution to the affair; under Wayúu law, even a death could possibly be settled through payment of cash, land, or goods.  But her uncle, who she mentioned was not, contrary to tradition, very close or involved in family affairs, did not agree to any compensation, denying his involvement in the affair..  The uncertainty for her and her family will continue, fearful of how the issue will develop.

I asked, from my “arijuna” or outsider perspective, why the Colombian authorities – basically the police – were not involved in the situation, offering investigation, mediation or protection, especially given that there was a death involved.  Like the case in Honduras that I experienced several years ago, the police here are reluctant to get involved in tribal issues.  The Wayúu, with their centuries-old social and justice system, seldom look to the outsiders for help in these situations.  Deaths, whether for natural or violent causes, are most often dealt with internally, with burials taking place outside of government registry.  The same is true for birth and illness, leaving a huge gap in any kind of statistical record of the overall situation of the Wayúu.

And so the tradition, existing in cultures all over the world, of “An Eye for an Eye” continues.  Men continue to kill and be killed for a sense of “honor” and women continue to suffer the loss of their sons, brothers and husbands for a concept that one would think would fade out as our societies develop and our understanding of conflict and peace evolves.  But as Mahatma Gandhi once said, perhaps it will continue on until we will indeed “all become blind.”


(How’s that for a Thanksgiving reflection, huh?)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THE HATFIELDS AND THE MCCOYS I was getting ready for a trip to a project region in the south central Department of Olancho in Honduras, but there was some doubt whether conditions in the zone would allow for a safe journey back along the country roads leading to the isolated communities that were participating in the project.  There was talk of increased violence in the region; not that violence was something unheard of in these rural, frontier environments, but over the last year the level of reported deaths in the department (not by automobile accidents or natural causes) had risen to a point where additional safety considerations and analysis were needed.  The news coming out of the area consisted of a too-often vague and mixed up tale of gang rivalries, drug trafficking wars and/or family feuds.  It all seemed just too jumbled up to make sense.  But, by talking to staff of our local partner organization, I was finally able to piece together at least part of ...
MUD BY ANY OTHER NAME… Before leaving the remote village where we had arrived after a half-hour motor-boat ride across a placid coastal lake and a pleasant, spirit-inspiring, forty-five minute journey in a dugout canoe through acres of mangrove trees, my hosts asked me if I wanted to borrow a pair of rubber boots as we continued on our way to visit a farmer who was planting nitrogen fixing trees on his small plot on the Atlantic Coast of Honduras.  “There will be mud along the way”, they said.
Reflections on Hair I am about to cut all the hair on my head and shave off all of my facial hair. It started as a simple fund raising idea for the organization I work for.  In a gambit to raise a minimum of $1500 from friends and family, I foolishly promised that I would let myself be subjected to a Kojak-like do-over if it happened.  And it did.  For those of you who might not know who the 1970’s TV character Kojak was, he was a detective.  A bald detective.  A lollipop sucking bald detective.  And I will soon be like him. Well, maybe not the lollipop part. But first, before I submit to a public shearing, I feel the need to reflect back over all the different manifestations my hair and I have gone through over the years. When I was between the ages of 3 to 12 years, I didn’t know that there was any kind of haircut other than the flattop.  It was an uncomplicated thing:  you went to the corner barber shop, sat in the hydraulic chair ...