Terror and death by the paramilitary

The massacre of Zabaleta [Caquetá], the town where I was raised and where I almost died.

It was a Sunday at around ten, some minutes to ten, and everybody was happy. We were at the village of Zabaleta. There was a bazaar, where we have cockfights, there was a music kiosk and everyone was in a party mood. There were guerrillas, militiamen, and all those things, when the paramilitaries arrived.

This is me and this one is another comrade who died. We lied down; he and I did so. And he said, “Oh flaquito, they are going to kill us!” And I said to him, “Don’t worry, and trust God that nothing is going to happen to us.”

When I listened to the shot, I saw that he was like twisting his body because we were so close; I lost consciousness on the spot and fainted.

It happened to me that, for 15 days, I was going to eat and I kept seeing this person. I went to bed at night and I had to leave a candle lit because I saw him, I saw him without his head.