A Personal Message to the People of Colombia

I’ve been thinking about Colombia a lot these past few days. When you watch the aftermath of an earthquake on television, it’s easy to get lost in the numbers  how many killed, how many missing, how many buildings came down. But I don’t think any family living through this is thinking about numbers right now. They’re thinking about one person. A mother. A father. A brother who hasn’t called. That’s what’s been on my mind. Somewhere tonight a family is still waiting for news. Somewhere else, someone is trying to make sense of how a house that stood for forty years could be gone in under a minute. There are people who went to bed with their whole lives intact and woke up to something unrecognizable. 

Colombia feels closer to us for another reason too the young Colombian students we hosted at the UNESCO Center for Peace this summer. We spent real time with them. Listening to them, laughing with them, heard them talk about home in that way you only do when you’re proud of it. They showed up as visiting students and left as something closer to family. So, when the news started coming in, I thought of them first. Their parents, their grandparents, their friends back in the neighborhoods now waiting to hear if everyone’s okay.

My heart goes out especially to those who’ve lost someone. I don’t have anything to write that makes that easier I know that. What I can offer is my sincere condolences, and the fact that people thousands of miles from Colombia are thinking about you right now.  I’m also thinking about the rescue workers still digging through what’s left of buildings, the doctors and nurses running on no sleep, the volunteers who just showed up because their neighbors needed hands. Most of them won’t get their name in a paper. They’re not doing this to be seen. They’re doing it because someone needed help and they were close enough to give it.

That’s what solidarity actually looks like to me.

My work has put me in a lot of room, talking about nations, conflicts, diplomacy  all the things that divide people. But something like this strips that away almost instantly. Nobody trapped under a building is thinking about politics. A mother waiting on news about her son isn’t thinking about nationality or ideology. None of that matters in that moment. We’re just people trying to help other people.  The world’s attention will move on eventually  that’s how the news cycle works, unfortunately. But for the families living through this, there’s no such thing as moving on quickly. They’ll still be rebuilding homes, walking through wrecked neighborhoods, grieving people they loved, trying to get back to something like ordinary life.

I hope we remember Colombia once the cameras are gone.

And to our Colombian students and their families specifically I hope you and everyone you love are safe. Your friends here are thinking about you, and I mean that. To the people of Colombia: my deepest sympathy, and my prayers. For those mourning, I hope you find some comfort in the people around you. For those still waiting for a word of someone, I hope it comes soon, and that it brings relief. For those still searching through the rubble, I hope you find the strength to keep going. And for Colombia may the days ahead bring healing, one family and one community at a time.

With sympathy and friendship,

Ambassador Emmett Imani , 

Deputy Director UNESCO Center for Peace