Translation"A coup with support is bloodless. A coup without it, is a civil war. That's the problem my great predecessors failed to realize, and what ultimately doomed them, twice in the span of a hundred years. It was paramount that popular support was acquired first. It wasn't particularly hard, as it turned out most of the people in this forsaken land had been quietly praying that, after 3 generations of weaklings, a new Buendía would relight the torch of our family legacy, and ignite the fires of revolution that brought Colombia greatness, before the neoliberal swines subjugated here glory and spirit for the sake of their own enrichment. The army had had enough of the Marquéz government as well. Bribing them with new toys and higher salaries only goes so far, once the soldiers and officers hear how you talk of them behind your back, how you disrespect them at private parties with millionaire and billionaire donors, and how you plan to replace their influence in the nation with that of the Panamanian business cartels. It truly was lightning in a bottle, the perfect storm that would end this half century of fraudulent "peace", and return leadership of Colombia to its rightful holder - the people.
I am coronel Aureliano Gabriel Buendía, they call me 'Aurelito'. I am the 6th generation direct, oldest male descendent of José Aureliano Buendía - President of Colombia between 1892 and 1922 and the nephew and adopted son of Arcadio Buendía, the only son of the great father of Colombia, coronel Aureliano Buendía. My family is interwoven with the history of Colombia like no other, it is synonymous with power and prestige in this country. They say Bolívar laid the foundation, but the Buendías built a palace. Four consecutive generation of the Buendía clan ruled Colombia from 1892 to 1968, when a military coup, orchestrated by the disgusting neoliberal conservative-liberal coalition under command of the Marquéz family removed us from power. For fifty long years they have exacerbated the differences between Colombia's poor and wealthy, favored business interest over Colombia's rural and urban poor and put the economy in the hands of abusive pigs, who molested it for their own greed and benefit. After decades of repression, the people of Colombia have chosen me to reclaim their divine right."
In the early morning hours of an ordinary February day, members of the army formed multiple cordons around the capital city of Bogotá. Across the country the military would occupy key strategic locations, border crossings, political hubs and buildings, and infrastructure. Members of the navy would occupy and take over running the Panama Canal, though aside from a minor hiccup in the morning, transit through the canal would not be disrupted. Police forces across the nation would be warned to stand down. Eventually all traffic out of Bogotá would be halted.
Towards noon, the military would capture a prominent television station in the Bogotá area and would transmit a message announcing the end of 'the Marquéz dictatorship.' Soon, tens of thousands of people would flood the streets of the capital, having received the message that their promised liberation had finally begun. Around half past one in the afternoon, the government of the United States of Colombia would release an official statement, announcing that the 'stable, democratic institutions of the Republic are under attack by vile powers, that seek to end half a century of peace in Colombia,' calling on the international community to refuse recognition of any new government that would emerge in the wake of the coup, seemingly accepting their fate and realizing there was no possible way to stop the inevitable. Government employees and the handful of loyal police and military personnel that remained would begin barricading themselves in key government buildings in Bogotá, as they steadily received news that other regional governments had fallen to the perpetrators.
At three o'clock, the doors of the Capitolio Nacional and Casa de Nariño would burst open, as military personnel would flood in. A few would resist, but most government officials would recognize it better to surrender than to attempt resistance. Fifteen minutes after they entered the Capitolio, soldiers would escort a handcuffed President Hernan Marquéz onto the Plaza de Bolívar to the tune of cheers, sneers and jeers from the public, which would proceed to throw food, shoes, rocks, and anything else you could think of at the ousted president. Moments later, coronel Aureliano Gabriel Buendía would appear atop the Capitolio Nacional's pavilion facing the Plaza, ready to address the crowd assembled below.
"Gente de Colombia! Your days of torture are over!" The crowd would erupt in cheers.
"Fifty-four long years have passed, since the Marquéz family stabbed our proud nation in the back, dragged its dagger from neck to tail, and sold our insides for pennies to their black market handlers. Half a century of humiliation, repression, intimidation, Colombia, ends, today!"
"As we speak, the armies of the Republic are securing the nation and hunting down any remnants of the treacherous entrenched government, who will, by the right of God, and the will of the People, be brought to justice for their disgusting deeds. Soon, liberty will be restored, democracy reborn, and Colombia raised from the ashes to again lead the Latin American world in the spirit of the revolution of Simón Bolívar and Colonel Aureliano Buendía!"
"Remember what you have seen here today, people of Colombia, you have witnessed history, you have witnessed revolution, you have witnessed the rebirth of the Republic! From now until the end of days, the United States of Colombia will never again be a nation of serfs and slaves!"
Three slogans to finish the short speech would be echoed by monumental cheers and applause.
"Viva Colombia!"
"Viva la República!"
"Y viva el Partido Socialista!"
In the late afternoon, the new provisional government, operating under the name 'the Provisional Council for the Administration, Governance and Transition of Colombia', would release a short public statement, addressed primarily to the international community to prevent fallout in diplomatic relations, though also aimed as a calming word for any Colombians worried about what the epilogue to the fall of Bogotá may bring.
"The provisional government of the United States of Colombia would like to make it crystal clear, there is no intent by any leading or otherwise members of the government, economy or armed forces, to prolong the transitional government longer than it needs to be, nor to assert an anti-democratic political system in the United States. The events that have unfolded over the past 24 hours come solely as a result of fifty years of intimidation and repression at the hands of an aggressively corrupt government under the leadership of Francisco and Hernan Marquéz, who curtailed the freedoms and liberties of the people of Colombia for the sake of enriching themselves, their family, friends and business interests. The Provisional Council has already confirmed at its first regular session, shortly after the Chairman's address in the afternoon, that within six months a full round of free and fair general elections will be held. Until then the Council will work to perform all required functions to keep the lives of the people of Colombia on track, and to continue all international and foreign affairs obligations of the United States, and will apply its best efforts to stabilizing the nation in the wake of a sudden change of power."
Signed,
Temporary Chairman of the Provisional Council for the Administration, Governance and Transition of Colombia,
Col. Aureliano Gabriel Buendía
The Fall of Bogotá
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Re: The Fall of Bogotá
"First and foremost our vital infrastructure must be brought under public control." Taking a drag from his cigarette, the colonel paused for a split second, peaking at the hand he was dealt. A pair of queens. Not much, but it'll do. "The steady lowering of the government's equity in the FNC, and more pressingly, the selling off of railway lines to private holders has handicapped our rail infrastructure. State equity needs to be raised to at least 55%, allowing private investors to maintain a voice in its operation, and reap the rewards of its success, but ultimately it is the Ministry of Transport that would have the final say." He carefully examined his compatriots. None of them were particularly good poker players, himself included, but it was an enjoyable pass time. More importantly, it allowed him to learn when his brothers-in-arms were lying, a skill he readily made use of, even away from the cards. "Furthermore, all rail in the country must be brought under the FNC's control. Thoughts gentlemen?"
"Multiple dead lines desperately need to be reactivated." Lt. Col. Aarón Gálvez, the chairman's right-hand man, the orchestrator of the coup d'etat, chimed in. He was physically the smallest of the five men at the table, and the only non-smoker. He wasn't exactly physically intimidating, but he knew the game better than most, and weaseled his way to the top with care and agility. The remaining four around the table were careful with granting their trust to Gálvez. Buendía would trust him with his life. He scratched his left nostril before raising the bet. "The line between Medellín and Zarzal would connect the heartlands to the Pacific. Not to mention it would encourage investment in the area, which is, suffice to say, economically challenged." A cough momentarily cleared his lungs of the second hand smoke his nose hadn't even noticed in hours. "We should also consider new railways to bolster connectivity. A new railway could be built from Bogotá to Manizales along Route 50, and Manizales to Zarzal via the inactive railway. That would significantly shorten the path between D.C. and the Pacific. We should consider expanding into the Llanos as well."
"Before any expansion, the existing railways need to be brought to standard." Dr. Marcos Abellán was the oldest of the five, and the only non-soldier present - one of only two in the twelve man provisional government. He wasn't a medical doctor but held a Ph.D. in civil engineering, specialized in mass transit and cargo infrastructure. He was to become Minister of Transport. "There are 3,304 kilometers of railway in this country, 150 kilometers of those are standard gauge, the remaining are narrow gauge. Narrow gauge rail has to be eliminated. It will lower acquisition costs for trains, as they won't need to be modified, open the possibility to acquire better trains, and improve connectivity with the neighborhood." He took a puff of his cigar, then folded. "This last is of paramount importance, if the chairman's plans for settling the eastern border question are to be of high priority. Venezuela's limited rail infrastructure is of standard gauge. That said, if we're gonna go building new rail, it should be built around Maracaibo first, given that's where our most vital export originates from."
"And what of Panama?"
"There is nothing to discuss." The doctor barely let the colonel finish. "The Canal remains in public ownership. I've already had those privatization papers we found at the ministry shredded and burnt."
Buendía grew a smug grin. "Perhaps I should rephrase. What of the Panamanians?"
"They'll cooperate. Otherwise we know what fate awaits them." The other four members present quietly rolled their eyes at Gálvez's carefully acted-out toughness, pretending as if they wouldn't have said the same thing. Buendía was amused seeing their eyes roll in near unison. He raised the bet. "Vélez is in Seattle. It's weird. He left right before the coup." He took the final drag from his cigarette, extinguishing the flame that was but particles from the filter in the elaborate ashtray beside him, and looked methodically around the table. "If I were none the wiser, I'd have thought he knew it would happen."
Lt. Col. Roberto Moreno, head of foreign affairs, tapped his fingers over the back of his cards, before raising the bet. Col. Ismad al-Nasr, the only non-Mestizo at the table, was up last. "I'll bring you Vélez. Dead or alive." He was a member of Colombia's Arab-descendent minority, and the provisional, soon to be permanent, head of intelligence. He deliberated in silence for a moment, before he too folded. "I'd much prefer alive, if I get to choose."
Gálvez showed his cards first. A pair of jacks. Buendía smiled, letting his queens hit the tabletop. He twitched forward, as if to lean toward the money in the pot, gleefully declaring "Nothing easier, muchachos.", but was frozen in surprise by Moreno dropping a set of tens. "Huh. Interesting..."
"Multiple dead lines desperately need to be reactivated." Lt. Col. Aarón Gálvez, the chairman's right-hand man, the orchestrator of the coup d'etat, chimed in. He was physically the smallest of the five men at the table, and the only non-smoker. He wasn't exactly physically intimidating, but he knew the game better than most, and weaseled his way to the top with care and agility. The remaining four around the table were careful with granting their trust to Gálvez. Buendía would trust him with his life. He scratched his left nostril before raising the bet. "The line between Medellín and Zarzal would connect the heartlands to the Pacific. Not to mention it would encourage investment in the area, which is, suffice to say, economically challenged." A cough momentarily cleared his lungs of the second hand smoke his nose hadn't even noticed in hours. "We should also consider new railways to bolster connectivity. A new railway could be built from Bogotá to Manizales along Route 50, and Manizales to Zarzal via the inactive railway. That would significantly shorten the path between D.C. and the Pacific. We should consider expanding into the Llanos as well."
"Before any expansion, the existing railways need to be brought to standard." Dr. Marcos Abellán was the oldest of the five, and the only non-soldier present - one of only two in the twelve man provisional government. He wasn't a medical doctor but held a Ph.D. in civil engineering, specialized in mass transit and cargo infrastructure. He was to become Minister of Transport. "There are 3,304 kilometers of railway in this country, 150 kilometers of those are standard gauge, the remaining are narrow gauge. Narrow gauge rail has to be eliminated. It will lower acquisition costs for trains, as they won't need to be modified, open the possibility to acquire better trains, and improve connectivity with the neighborhood." He took a puff of his cigar, then folded. "This last is of paramount importance, if the chairman's plans for settling the eastern border question are to be of high priority. Venezuela's limited rail infrastructure is of standard gauge. That said, if we're gonna go building new rail, it should be built around Maracaibo first, given that's where our most vital export originates from."
"And what of Panama?"
"There is nothing to discuss." The doctor barely let the colonel finish. "The Canal remains in public ownership. I've already had those privatization papers we found at the ministry shredded and burnt."
Buendía grew a smug grin. "Perhaps I should rephrase. What of the Panamanians?"
"They'll cooperate. Otherwise we know what fate awaits them." The other four members present quietly rolled their eyes at Gálvez's carefully acted-out toughness, pretending as if they wouldn't have said the same thing. Buendía was amused seeing their eyes roll in near unison. He raised the bet. "Vélez is in Seattle. It's weird. He left right before the coup." He took the final drag from his cigarette, extinguishing the flame that was but particles from the filter in the elaborate ashtray beside him, and looked methodically around the table. "If I were none the wiser, I'd have thought he knew it would happen."
Lt. Col. Roberto Moreno, head of foreign affairs, tapped his fingers over the back of his cards, before raising the bet. Col. Ismad al-Nasr, the only non-Mestizo at the table, was up last. "I'll bring you Vélez. Dead or alive." He was a member of Colombia's Arab-descendent minority, and the provisional, soon to be permanent, head of intelligence. He deliberated in silence for a moment, before he too folded. "I'd much prefer alive, if I get to choose."
Gálvez showed his cards first. A pair of jacks. Buendía smiled, letting his queens hit the tabletop. He twitched forward, as if to lean toward the money in the pot, gleefully declaring "Nothing easier, muchachos.", but was frozen in surprise by Moreno dropping a set of tens. "Huh. Interesting..."
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Re: The Fall of Bogotá
"How is this possible?" Buendía marched nervously up and down his office. His secretary, Remedios 'Meme' Moscote, and right-hand lt. col. Aarón Gálvez watch on as he frantically paces across the carpeted floor. "This will set us back years, and we've only been in power since February!" Gálvez smirked at the comment, though his smile quickly faded when Aureliano shared a very, unfriendly, look. "I've talked with Abellán, Perez, every national official from that area, every regional official from that area, every local official from that area. Hell I've cold called some residents. No one has a clue where this rain came from." Buendía slowed his step, as he broke from the invisible line in the carpet he'd walked along for the past 5 minutes, and stepped back behind his desk, leaning with his right hand on the back of his chair. "And no one knows when it'll go." Just as he had calmed down a bit, a sociopathic look returned to the colonel's eyes. "You mean it still hasn't stopped?" Gálvez shook his head. "For what it's worth, Abellán didn't let time get ahead of him. He organized a response about as fast as anyone could. Organized the workers that escaped the avalanche, flew in workers from all of eastern Colombia in hours, mobilized help from civilians in Pamplona... We're lucky he was in charge of the project."
"And yet you look concerned, Aarón." Gálvez found the irony eyeroll worthy, but resisted. He likes having a head on his shoulders. "Given the reports we've received it seems the situation is above and beyond human intervention. No matter how hard Abellán tries, it looks like nature isn't letting him succeed. He's assembled the Avengers to dig out that avalanche, but the more they dig, the more mud and stone the rain drops on them. I spoke with Perez on the phone an hour ago, he told me he feels like if Sisyphus was a Hispanic construction worker - there is absolutely no end in sight, and it remains to be seen if the tunnel past the south port is even still intact or if the earthquake or its aftershocks took that out as well. For all we know those workers might very well be sleeping under a mile of rock right now."
Buendía sat down in his chair, distraught and hopeless. "They're gonna go on strike, Aarón." He looked at his life long friend with dread in his eyes. "The workers are going to strike. The business cartels, or the military, or some other asshole is going to jump on it, bribe the army. The revolution quelled, in all but 2 months. Because of mystical rains and a mystical earthquake, that no man on Earth can explain." He placed his elbows on the desk and laid his face in his palms as silence fell on the room for a few seconds. Withdrawing from the darkness of his eyelids and hands, he looked back at his guests, this time at his secretary. "What's the damage?"
"It absolutely tore apart Santander." Opening a manila folder in her hands, she pulled out a few reports from the region. "The Bucaramanga-Cúcuta-San Cristobal triangle is by far the worst affected, but the entirety of Santander and Táchira was in the crosshairs." She gave the relevant papers to Buendía. "Current estimates are just below a billion dollars. But it's been climbing fast."
Glancing over the documents, Aureliano threw them on the desk and sighed. "Meme, we're going to Pamplona. Aarón, I'm leaving you the keys. I trust the Council will be able to pass an adequate relief package even with my absence." He stood up slowly, Remedios had already left the room to organize the trip. "And come up with something that'll keep the workers off the streets. At least until we can get that tunnel running. Please."
"And yet you look concerned, Aarón." Gálvez found the irony eyeroll worthy, but resisted. He likes having a head on his shoulders. "Given the reports we've received it seems the situation is above and beyond human intervention. No matter how hard Abellán tries, it looks like nature isn't letting him succeed. He's assembled the Avengers to dig out that avalanche, but the more they dig, the more mud and stone the rain drops on them. I spoke with Perez on the phone an hour ago, he told me he feels like if Sisyphus was a Hispanic construction worker - there is absolutely no end in sight, and it remains to be seen if the tunnel past the south port is even still intact or if the earthquake or its aftershocks took that out as well. For all we know those workers might very well be sleeping under a mile of rock right now."
Buendía sat down in his chair, distraught and hopeless. "They're gonna go on strike, Aarón." He looked at his life long friend with dread in his eyes. "The workers are going to strike. The business cartels, or the military, or some other asshole is going to jump on it, bribe the army. The revolution quelled, in all but 2 months. Because of mystical rains and a mystical earthquake, that no man on Earth can explain." He placed his elbows on the desk and laid his face in his palms as silence fell on the room for a few seconds. Withdrawing from the darkness of his eyelids and hands, he looked back at his guests, this time at his secretary. "What's the damage?"
"It absolutely tore apart Santander." Opening a manila folder in her hands, she pulled out a few reports from the region. "The Bucaramanga-Cúcuta-San Cristobal triangle is by far the worst affected, but the entirety of Santander and Táchira was in the crosshairs." She gave the relevant papers to Buendía. "Current estimates are just below a billion dollars. But it's been climbing fast."
Glancing over the documents, Aureliano threw them on the desk and sighed. "Meme, we're going to Pamplona. Aarón, I'm leaving you the keys. I trust the Council will be able to pass an adequate relief package even with my absence." He stood up slowly, Remedios had already left the room to organize the trip. "And come up with something that'll keep the workers off the streets. At least until we can get that tunnel running. Please."
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