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Pubdate: Wed, 07 Apr 2021 Source: Wall Street Journal (US) Copyright: 2021 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. Contact: http://www.wsj.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/487 Author: Kejal Vyas STUDENTS FALL PREY TO DRUG GANGS PUERTO CACHICAMO, Colombia-The pandemic closed the only school in this remote hamlet, long a stronghold for Marxist guerrillas. With no internet connection for virtual classes, 16-year-old Danna Montilla told her family she was leaving to find work, but instead authorities say she joined a narco-trafficking rebel group. Last month, Colombia's military bombarded the group's jungle camp, killing Danna, another underage girl and 10 others. Residents here said her death underscored a grim reality: Armed gangs have found fresh recruits from an ample pool of youths who, like Danna, have been out of school because of the coronavirus pandemic. "I ask myself, 'Maybe if she stayed in school, had some way to keep her mind occupied, maybe we wouldn't be at this cemetery,'" said her father, Jhon Montilla, after laying flowers over Danna's grave on a recent day. While the pandemic led to a global shutdown of schools, in Latin America the closures have been extreme. Stringent lockdowns have led children on average to miss far more class days than elsewhere in the world, according to Unicef. The U.N. agency estimates that Latin American children missed 159 school days on average over the past year, compared with the global average of 95. Only seven out of the 35 countries in the region have fully reopened schools, leaving 114 million young people out of the classroom in what Unicef has called an unfolding "generational catastrophe." But unlike in other parts of the world, idle children in poor districts in Latin America from Mexico to Brazil are particularly vulnerable to powerful, cocaine-trafficking organizations. In Colombia, rights activists documented the recruitment of children in 22 of the country's 32 provinces during the pandemic, with most cases taking place in rural provinces where the government has little presence and drug-smuggling syndicates hold sway. A group that researches the impact of drug-related violence on children here, the Coalition Against the Involvement of Children in Colombia's Conflict, said armed groups recruited 220 youths between 12 and 17 in 2020, an 11% increase from 2019. But the number of child recruits could be far higher, because it is believed few families report that their children joined armed gangs for fear of retribution, said Trian Zuniga, who until last month was the top human rights official in this province, Guaviare. "It's a perfect scenario for the guerrillas who want to use kids as shields, and the parents are too scared to speak up," said Mr. Zuniga. Sandwiched between cattle farms, virgin jungle and plantations of coca-the plant whose leaves are the raw ingredient in cocaine-Puerto Cachicamo is so tied to the drug economy that processed coca had once been accepted as currency here, said Rigoberto Sanchez, a community councilman. A 2016 peace accord offered new hopes for the hamlet when the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, demobilized 13,000 fighters. But some guerrillas abstained from the peace process and sought out fresh recruits in this community, located on a river bank a six-hour drive on a muddy track from the provincial capital. Activities in Puerto Cachicamo, with its billiard halls and brothels, are limited for children, who often tend to cattle or help pick coca. At night, they gather under a streetlight in the only playground. The pandemic meant that the St. Helena school, serving 170 students, shut its doors. "The guerrillas are always fishing in the rivers for new members," said one school administrator. "With the kids out of class, this place turned into an aquarium for them." Adolescents going off to join the guerrillas are an open secret. "Kids just leave here and never say where they're going," said Gloria Martinez, 49, mother of two teenagers and legal guardian for four others. She recounted how hard it has been to motivate the children to study, even more challenging in the pandemic. Without internet, parents have had to rely on home-schooling guides sent by education authorities. Classes recently restarted, with children attending two or three days a week. Still, one of Ms. Martinez's sons, 15-year-old Gabriel, now says he doesn't want to attend. He prefers to earn a few pesos gathering gravel from the river for makeshift cement production. "I try so hard, but these kids don't have any help to motivate them to study," Ms. Martinez said. Puerto Cachicamo became national news when an air force fighter dropped a bomb in March on a camp south of here that the Defense Ministry said was operated by Miguel Botache, a former FARC commander who is one of Colombia's most-wanted outlaws. Defense Minister Diego Molano said army intelligence had been unaware of the presence of youths when planning the bombing. Still, Mr. Molano said in several radio interviews that the minors were justifiable targets because they had been turned into "war machines" by Mr. Botache. Rights groups here criticized him fiercely, saying the children were victims. "Those who are at the camps are participating in the hostilities," Mr. Molano told La W Radio. Among those killed was Jonathan Zambrano, 19. He had set off months ago to find a job, promising to send money home so his three siblings could study instead of work in the coca fields, said his father, Freili Sanchez. When Mr. Sanchez went to the morgue to pick up his son's body, he was told not to open up the plastic wrap that enveloped the body because the badly burned corpse was in an advanced stage of decomposition. He said he refused to believe that his son had turned into a guerrilla fighter. "I just hold on to that hope that someone will come here and say they made a mistake, that that's not your son," said Mr. Sanchez, who is now in debt for the $1,600-worth two years' of income-he had to pay to transport the body to his hamlet. In 2019, the Montilla family had moved here from a smaller hamlet because Puerto Cachicamo had one of the few schools in the area that offered classwork up through the 10th grade. Danna and her grandmother, Esperanza Rueda, had made a pact to move to a city in northern Colombia after she finished school to complete her education there. "She really wanted to learn English," said Ms. Rueda, who had raised Danna, wiping away tears. "I figured in the city, she could do that." Three of Danna's school teachers said she had sent Whatsapp messages early in the pandemic, asking how she could continue her classes. "We'll do everything we possibly can," an instructor told her in an exchange. They arranged to send Danna, who had an interest in social activism and a talent for debate, guides and homework assignments. She sent in her last assignment-an essay on politics and economics-in June. Then she abruptly told her teachers that she could no longer continue and began to hang around town like other out-of-school youth. Her sudden change, teachers said, made them suspicious that she had been recruited by the guerrillas. Mr. Montilla, who recovered his daughter's charred and mutilated remains from the morgue, lost contact with Danna in December and said he doesn't know how she ended up at the camp. Mr. Montilla, who transitioned from coca to cattle farming years ago, lamented how youths in his village are often entangled in the drug wars. Danna, like many youths here, had grown up watching coca farmers clash in recent years with the military as the government had ramped up its efforts to eradicate drug crops, he said. "Between the guerrillas and the army, the youth see little hope here," Mr. Montilla said. - --- MAP posted-by: Matt