By ACI for Borderland Beat
It all begins in the steamy mountains of Colombia, up mist covered hills, hidden under the lush canopy of forests; a plant is being cultivated. The farmer growing the plant knows little of the journey his crop will take. This is an examination of that journey.
Every day from his humble one room shack nestled in one of Colombia's many rural departments, he waters and tends to his crop. If he is lucky enough to survive the weather or the fumigation from government planes he is able to harvest. After he harvests his crop he must go through the laborious and time consuming effort of converting the leaves into what is known as coca base. After his work is through he looks at his harvest and thinks of how lucky he is. This should provide just enough money for his family survives till the next crop is ready.
He meets a man known locally as El Leche at local village, El Leche is a known as a go between for the farmer and the FARC. He meets with the farmer and pays him his salary for his work. He tells the man he will be sending some of his people to collect the base and that they will speak again soon.
Later at the man’s farm, a small armed group shows up at his shack to collect their payment. They are all young, dressed in military fatigues, worn out boots and rifles rusted from the humid jungle heat. They look tired and dirty, the result of living in the forest and moving from camp to camp. These are the front line troops of one of the armed wings of the FARC. The look tattered, paranoid and scared, they take the paste from the farmer and leave, vanishing back into the forest.
The small group consisting of both young men and women trek through the forest, each one listening for the nightmarish low thumping sound of helicopters in the distance. They all seem on edge, they have spent too much time in the forest, moving from location to location, unable to enjoy the small luxuries we all take for granted. If they stay in one spot for too long they may not see tomorrow. So they trek on for what seems like miles. After days of hellish hiking through dense and rugged terrain they approach a clearing; they have reached their destination, a large scale laboratory which sole purpose is refinement of the coca base into cocaine.
As the walk up to the compound it is easy to see the many guards standing around with their assault rifle at their sides. The group drops off their merchandise and once again vanishes into the mist of the jungle. This factory is run by the Rastrojos, a group which was formed out of the now defunct AUC. These labs are known as high value targets for the Colombian Government and are often targets of the US/Colombian effort to eradicate the production of cocaine.
Once the coca base has been converted in to what most would recognize as cocaine it is pressed into blocks and loaded on to a beat up, rusty truck. Smoke pours out the back as the truck is barley able to turn over its engine. Loaded up with its precious cargo, the overworked truck rumbles down the precarious road towards the mangrove swamps to the north.
There waiting for them in the cover of the mangroves is what could only be described as a testament to the shear will of the traffickers; a fully submersible submarine. The ship has a crew of 3 and they are all waiting on this payloads arrival. Everyone starts packing the cramped space with as much cocaine as would fit. The journey ahead for these sailors will not be easy. They will be out in the open ocean for days with no one but themselves to insure delivery of the product. In this cramped space the men will have to navigate the thousand mile journey to Guatemala, their final destination.
After docking in a remote region of Guatemala the shipment is unloaded to group who works for a family known as the Lorenzanas. The Lorenzanes are intermediaries whose sole purpose is to move the product from one end of the country to the other. Guatemalan Soldiers provide them with security. This is generally the smooth part of the operation with little risk due to the deep ties the family has fostered within the government. Once the shipment has been moved, contact will made with a coordinator of the Sinaloa Cartel, one of the largest cartels in Mexico. Arrangements will be made to move the contraband into Mexico.
Once inside Mexico, our shipment will traverse the country, making several stops along the way, all the while being broken up into smaller parcels and given to different plaza leaders. The broken down shipments are then housed in safe houses until they are ready to be moved towards the border with the US. These leaders are responsible for ensuring the distribution of the product along the various parts of the border which the Sinaloa Cartel controls.
Various methods will then be utilized to move the product across the border and into the United States. Each area has a variety of ways of managing this; some techniques are locally based while others are used throughout the border region. In the area of Arizona, where our shipment has arrived; has been using an innovative way of crossing drugs; remote controlled toy airplanes. They are too small for radar to pick up and can been flown for some distance, it is a highly effective method of smuggling. Our Kilo is taped to the bottom of one of these planes and flown to spotter on the other side. GPS is often used to locate the planes once they have crossed the border. Throughout this whole process those responsible watch in the shadows making sure everything runs smooth. They know that if a load doesn’t make it, they will be left with the bill. Spotters and decoys are used to throw off law enforcement and further the odds of success.
Once a load has successfully crossed the US border the shipment is then taken to safe houses located in regional distribution points. In the case of our load it ended up in Nogales, Arizona. Given its close proximity to the border and national highway system, Nogales makes for a perfect place to stash this shipment. From here the shipment is further divided and sent to different regions, each run by cartel distributers. The kilo we have been watching eventually ends up in Chicago. It is sold to someone who only deals in bulk, several kilos or more. It then gets broken down further and sold to street gangs which then sell to the end users.
This is the journey of how one kilogram of cocaine makes on its way to the consumer. It involves the effort of thousands and the complicity of many more. Its journey led through multiple countries; it flew, floated, was driven and carried; it traveled through jungles and seas, mountains and deserts, all to reach a consumer who doesn’t have the slightest idea of the blood that was split along the way, same as the farmer who grew it. The illegalization of narcotics lead to all the blood in-between the two. The farmer never wanted to shed blood, he just wanted to feed his family, and neither did the consumer who was just looking for a good time. Both are blind to the destruction. But those that are really blinded are those who think prohibition is worth the blood stained soil from which their policies stem from. Only through truth can one clearly see the entire picture, we as world citizens need to weigh the cost verse benefits of our policies, for good intentions often come with unintended consequences.