However, this young victim decided to use cinema, theater, and literature to overcome adversity as a displaced and discriminated person.

The famous FARC’s “Guaca”[1] turned Cenuver and his family into conflict victims. Tricked by a family member, they ended up involved in the cinematic story that starred 147 soldiers in 2003.

In September of that year, after five months of the millionaire discovery, the spectacular versions about the findings of the 20 or 30 plastic drums full of 20 and 50,000 COP bills, in the old, demilitarized zone in Caqueta, continued to be the press headline in Colombia.

Meanwhile, more than 690 kilometers away from the Colombian jungle, Cenuver, along with his father, Josias Giraldo, his mother, Yaneth Pinto, and his brothers, Yeison and Mayerly, were trying to survive in other jungle: the informal market, the scavenging and unemployment jungle, a place of refuge for thousands of peasants displaced by violence. They were displaced. They had arrived in Bogota from Ataco (Tolima) when he was six months old. He grew up collecting cardboard and glass from the trash and trying to study while his father alternated recycling with informal sales. "My dad used to sell chocolo buñuelos and cleaning rags on the street," recalls Cenuver.

It had already been five years since they had joined the ranks of thousands of displaced peasants who settled in the capital’s south, when the public space recovery operations, of the then mayor Enrique Peñalosa, got Josias to the gloomy and cold dungeons of the police stations, where he was frequently taken because he defended his right to work, the only livelihood for his family. "We were victims of another displacement and discrimination for being poor," adds Cenuver.

It was a difficult time in Bogota. Displaced by the authorities, the Giraldos arrived in Guateque (Boyaca), where they slept in a hut on feeble mattresses. "In 2013, my family did 13 moves, and I studied fifth grade in four different schools."

But a tantalizing proposal came along. An uncle, his father's brother, claimed he had won the lottery. With that money, he had bought a farm in the municipality of Macheta (Cundinamarca), and he needed them to take care of it. They could farm there and end their losing streak. “It was the lifeline we needed, but we never imagined what we would have to face,” says Cenuver.

The “Guaca” curse

In September 4^th’s afternoon, Cenuver and his brothers, after completing their studies at the Cazuca Bajo School, had to meet their father and wait for their mother to return from the town, where they participated in the evangelical church. The wait was pleasant in a house on the side of the road, less than 30 meters from where they lived. They were only apart by the river they crossed in a basket.

The neighbor was a cousin, daughter of the “millionaire uncle” and sister of one of the 147 soldiers involved in the well-known and investigated case of the Caguan Guaca, a fact that “we did know about, but nothing else.”

At the cousin's house they drank coffee and enjoyed games while the afternoon was setting; the unexpected arrived at night. “At 7 pm we saw two armed men enter. One big and fat with a blue rag on his head and the other with a scar on his face. "Quiet ... everyone down with their hands on their heads," that was the order.

Time stopped for Cenuver. At age 11, he faced the most dramatic violent episode of his life. His hands clasped his head, while his scrawny body shook with fear on the floor when he heard the threats. “They said they were from the guerrillas, that they were going to recruit us. But to my mother, who arrived at that moment, another man grabbed her by the waist and told her they were paramilitaries; everything was confusion and terror.”

Tied up and spread through every corner of the house, what ensued were endless hours of abuse and oppression. Josias and Carmelo, the cousin's husband, were tortured so they would talk. They dug and searched under the stones asking for the money. Outside the house, there were more than 30 men who started taking the adults away. "I heard my father say to my mother: ‘See you later mijita, God bless you’. My father said goodbye because he thought they were going to kill him when they took him. They were taken away and around 11 we heard three gunshots. At dawn we realized the dead man was Carmelo,” he explains.

“They were looking for hidden money that my cousin, the ex-military, who had been among the 147 soldiers of the famous Caguan Guaca, supposedly kept. We knew about the hidden money event, but we knew because of the news. We had no idea they had tricked us to take care of that money our cousin and uncle apparently kept on the farm,” says Cenuver.

There was some calm when day broke, but the pain and fear increased. Carmelo was found on the riverbank with signs of torture. His wife had been sexually abused. The houses, both the one they were in and the one where they lived were looted, almost destroyed. Apparently, the loot they were looking for wasn’t found and the “Guaca” remained a mystery that adds to another bad chapter in Cenuver, and his family’s lives. Years later, the “Guaca” story would inspire the Colombian film “Soñar no cuesta nada”, directed by Rodrigo Triana and written by Jörg Hill in 2006.

His life’s movie

A month later and after a new death threat, Cenuver, his parents and brothers had to leave Macheta and face forced displacement again. This time his destination was Algeciras, in Huila, land of his great-grandmother Petronila, closer to Caqueta. In Algeciras, he continued his studies and later, in Pitalito, he finished high school amid guerrilla violence.

At 17 he went to Ibague to fulfil his dream of being a professional and change what, until then, seemed to be his destiny: to live fleeing from the war. “Every time my mother called, I told her I was fine, even though I only ate one salpicon[2] a day,” he recalls.

Amid lack of resources and discrimination, he graduated as a social communicator and journalist at the Universidad de Tolima. "I studied Communication because I saw it was the way to approach literature." He continued to prepare: He specialized in Human Rights and Citizen Competencies, he also completed a Performing Arts Technical Program and, today, he is close to finish a master’s degree in Playwriting.

At 29, he is a young dreamer. He writes with passion and not in vain. In 2016 he was the winner of the second national short story contest organized by the Ministry of Education and RCN Television. "My grandmother's hat" was the title of his story about the transsexuality of a grandmother in the jungle.

Writing and theater are his passion and the means by which, he says, he hopes to show the world the war tragedy in Colombia. Among his goals, he wants to write and direct his own film inspired by the experiences of his family and, especially in honor of his father: "Jose’s Tragedies", that is the title he wants to use.

"To be able to find stories so that people know the truth, so the world becomes more and more human, so that we have sensitivity, which I believe is what humanity lacks."

Along this path, he is taking giant steps, his theater group Art-Quimia works in both Ibague and Neiva, as well as his dance group. Another one of his passions, which he made sure to show in the tv show Colombia has talent, in 2012, is the dancers in heels group. In theater, he works with young violence victims, and he tries to represent stories about the Colombian war, mostly works written as an account of their cinematographic experiences.

Adversities as the engine of life

Born in the countryside and trained with the values ​​of a christian conservative family, facing his sexuality, which he states is diverse, has been another one of his challenges. "Sexuality doesn’t define you as a person. What I tell my parents is that being homosexual does not make you a bad

He is convinced that, with cinema, dance, and literature, he will be able to overcome violence, poverty and sexual discrimination, barriers that challenged him and inspired him to create. “I’m not very romantic, I am rather pessimistic in what I write. I like tragedy because it makes us feel, it makes us sensitive.”

Cheerful, talented, dreamer, a TikTok lover as an avant-garde expression tool, Cenuver represents the LGTBI community in the Effective Participation Victims Board in Ibague, a dignity that he takes advantage of to defend his rights and from where he wants to leave a legacy in his style, and ,in turn, to leave a strong message: "We have to forgive, to acknowledge there was a painful reality, but we need to turn the page and devote ourselves to build, because with so many years of destruction, there are many generations who have not been able to enjoy this country."

(End / WPG / RAM)