Comuna 13 Medellin, The Most Dangerous Place on Earth.

Once the single-most dangerous place on the planet, Comuna 13 (San Javier, neighborhood 13) on Medellin's steep western slopes, may eventually become one of the world's greatest triumphs. Or not.
The home of Pablo Escobar's gang, Comuna 13 had the world's highest murder rate.  When the Colombian army attempted to take back control of the territory, they didn't even bother to warn the residents of the coming tanks, helicopters and soldiers.  The people of Comuna 13 were the enemy.

Alba, Our Guide

Our guide, Alba, grew up in Comuna 13.  Her father, a chemist, was kidnapped by Escobar and forced to work in the cocaine labs.  Each month, Escobar's Number Two, Dandeny Muñoz Mosquera--La Quica, would personally deliver a bag of cash to Alba's mother, tossing it on the living room floor--payment for the kidnapped father's service.  He was returned home two years later.

Alba grew up with four very close guy friends. Two joined Escobar. The third joined the rival Cali gang and was forced to murder his two friends.  The fourth friend, also an Escobar gang member, murdered the third.

The government at any level--local, state or federal--was completely absent.

Today, there's a corridor up the slope of Comuna 13 that signals hope for the people there.  Though when I privately asked Alba what the scene was like two blocks off this pathway, she said that she'd not go there "too dangerous".  Noted.

But from where we stood with Alba and a local artist from the neighborhood, there was no sign of anything other than promise and hope.

The urban policy experts describe how radical urbanism, and nothing-to-lose policies of renovation and urban investment have turned the comuna around.   It's a good story and I have seen nothing to contradict the narrative.  Many, many mistakes were made. Now we'll hope for the residents' success.  God knows they deserve better than they had.

Here's what you see today...

Local and world-class artists (not graffiti taggers) vie for a location on the Comuna's walls on which to present their works.

I saw these artist signatures, which I encourage you to search on the web:  

@Chota13

@yorch.art

@jomag.art

@apolo.trece

There's clearly meaning with each of the works we saw and the symbolism was always positive.  Each was explained by our local artist guide.

Tiny stores offer homemade snacks to the passing tourists...and there are many tourists.  (I'm buying the global rights to the maracuya & cream frozen treat shown here...Unbelievable!)









A local dance team sets up a stage and present top-notch performances.  Amazing skill and solid choreography.
















The backbone of the revival was a long series of escalators that link the tail end of the subway system to the upper reaches of the Comuna.  With the creation of the escalator linkage, the residents were able to get to transportation, and thereby to jobs other than the cartel work.  "Gentrification" followed at the end of the subway and is creeping up the hill. ("Gentrification" in this context does not mean Brooklyn's tony neighborhoods. It's more like the rough parts of the Bronx turning into the rough parts of Harlem.)


The locals greet each other warmly and openly, chat and smile.  The tourism has brought an economy that just might help keep things moving in the right direction.

We offer some photos for close examination.  Please note the shacks stacked on top of each other.  Zoom in.  These folks don't have it easy.  I encourage our readers to look beyond the artists' work to the houses and people beyond.

Comuna 13's is not a simple story, certainly not happy.  We often felt out of place, self-conscious  of the divide between our experience and that of the neighborhood's citizens.  At the same time, the artistry was exceptional, meaningful and moving.  If art has a purpose to move you and make you feel differently, then this art of a changing neighborhood met its goal.

No simple bromides or morals to close this blog entry.  I do encourage more reading and reflection.