On May 16, we were in a village called La Resbalosa, where the Comunidad de Paz (Peace Community) owns collective land. There, two monuments were inaugurated in memory of the victims of the massacre of 21 February 2005.

On the morning of that 21 February, the XVII brigade of the army, jointly with the paramilitaries, wanting to attack the community directly and in a premeditated way, first went to the Río Mulatos, near what is today the "Luis Eduardo Guerra" hamlet, an hour and a half away from La Resbalosa, where Deiner, aged 11, Luis Eduardo Guerra, his father and leader of the community, and his partner Bellanira, were arriving to go harvest cocoa.

M. is an old lady, the first time I saw her she was at a protest and, despite the rain, she was walking barefoot.
We met her multiple times during protests or on public occasions in front of the prison in Temuco, where many Mapuche gather to transmit newen (energy) to Mapuche prisoners locked up inside.
I began to get to know her better in a shack, in the middle of a field, at the border of a land in the process of “recuperacion”, of land restitution (an expression used by the Mapuche to tell the phenomenon of restitution and occupation of the lands, taken from them through violence during the “Pacification of Arucania”- a military and political campaign, carried out in Chile between 1861 and 1883, with the aim of conquering and submitting the lands inhabited by the Mapuche).

At the end of May it has been 8 months since we moved in Quseyr, eight months since we have a home, eight months since we started comprehending this country, this city, these people. Everyday we go deeper in the rooted culture, in the ideas, experimenting food, listening, having questions. Different places have different stories, people that lived similar lives, but never the same, and are now elaborating their pasts, each their own way. In the last period we focused our attention on the riff (countryside), starting a project a project of social-emotional sensibilization with the youths — that is not the topic of this article. It is a reason to meet other people, to talk, and create spaces to share. To keep solid the relationships we brought over from Lebanon and to make new ones. It’s all a way to be together, to share some time and space, to establish relationships. To listen, to stop, and let people narrate their stories. The story of Aisha is one that we know very well; she came back to Syria at the beginning of 2026 with her husband and their six children. It is a family that Operation Dove knows from Lebanon and since we live close by we frequently visit them.

This Report was drafted by the Camp Network Group, a network of organizations and solidary individuals—which also includes Operazione Colomba—that monitors the conditions of people on the move in Athens and in the camps belonging to the city.

Download the report (PDF)

What does it mean to be in the Peace Community as 'Paloma', an international volunteer with Operazione Colomba?
I put on the orange t-shirt and leave myself behind; I am no longer just me, I become a symbol.
It means being a witness. But only in a small way compared to these ancient trees, the birds that punctually sing hymns to creation, the stones polished by the river like the bones of giants—they have been observing human movements since time immemorial.
It means putting oneself at others' service.
It means having no time or space of your own, sacrificing them to sharing, to accompanying others, making them sacred.
It means embodying what it is to be an instrument.