The island where men are disappearing

By Hernando Alvarez
BBC World Service

At first glance it's paradise, a small Caribbean island with palm trees swaying in
the breeze, white sands and emerald waters, untouched by mass tourism. But Old
Providence has a guilty secret - the huge number of people who have turned to
drug-running and then disappeared.

On Old Providence nobody rushes. Nobody looks stressed. They never stop smiling.

It's a tiny island, colonised by British Puritans in 1629, and used as a base by British
privateers, including Capt Henry Morgan, as they attacked Spanish shipping and trading
centres in the New World.

Although Old Providence has long been part of Colombia, and lies close to the coast of
Nicaragua, the mother tongue remains a form of broken English.

The islanders, who number between 5,000 and 6,000, feel more Caribbean than they
do Colombian. Many are Rastafarians, and for a long time the place remained
untouched by Colombia's violent narcotraffickers. You don't see guns or hitmen, there
are no bodyguards, or the bling typical of drug lords.
The problem is below the surface, but no less serious for that.

"We are losing our men," one islander told me, asking to remain anonymous.

"According to my research, there are at least 800 men that are imprisoned in different
jails abroad or have simply disappeared."

That means more than one in four of the island's menfolk have gone, if this research is
correct, and the island's population divides equally into men and women. There are no
official figures.

The fact is that Old Providence couldn't remain immune to Colombia's problems forever,
and a few years ago, drug smugglers discovered the islanders were excellent mariners,
with invaluable knowledge of the surrounding waters inherited from their privateering
forebears.

"They are the last rung of the drug trafficking trade," says veteran journalist Amparo
Ponton, who has lived on the island for 25 years.

"Islanders read the ocean better than anyone, so they are hired as pilots in the narco-
speedboats."

If they successfully deliver a boatload of drugs to the intended destination - which may
be anywhere from Honduras to Florida - they make thousands of dollars.

If they get caught they end up in jail.

Things get awkward when a boat is chased by the coastguard. In that case the crew
throws the drugs overboard - and then has to explain this to the drug lords. The next job
they are asked to do is one they cannot refuse.

"My boy ended up in a jail in Mississippi, USA," one mother told me.

"He had already served a six-year sentence in the United States. But he tried again and
failed again.

"I think he tried again because he didn't find any work...

"Most families on the island have been affected by this one way or the other. We are
losing our boys."
One way of creating more jobs would be to develop tourism, but this is a path Old
Providence has deliberately shunned - in contrast with its neighbour, San Andres, which
is now dotted with resorts.

But the researcher who calculates that 800 islanders have disappeared says the lack of
opportunities is only one part of the problem.

"There is also a lot of juvenile adrenaline at play," she says. She has often overheard
youngsters say: "I've got three options - hit, miss or get." In other words, you score, you
get arrested, or you get killed.

"We have already lost 10% of the generation before mine," says 26-year-old fisherman
Loreno Bent.

"There are children who wake up daily not knowing their father because he was lost in
the high seas when the child was a four-month-old baby.

"Mothers are crying because their boys left and never returned. Nobody knows where
they are. They could be in a jail anywhere in the world. We simply don't know."
Image captionLoreno Bent: It's not easy money

But he doesn't criticise those who run drugs.

"The sea is our economy, it doesn't matter if it's legal or illegal," he says. "What matters
here is that acquiring your money hasn't involved a crime against another human. In
Colombia it's considered illegal, but to many of us it's our sole subsistence. So we don't
see it as something illegal."

He adds: "People say this is easy money, but no - it's the hardest type to obtain. If you
wake up in the morning knowing you're putting your life in danger, then it can't be easy
money."

When a son disappears, parents often do not know where he has gone, or if he will
return - many seem to feel too ashamed about the crime to make a concerted effort to
find out. The number of such inquiries from Old Providence is extremely low, according
to Colombia's consul in the US.

But that doesn't mean the absence is not deeply felt.

"There are families," says journalist Amparo Ponton, "where the great-grandfather,
grandfather, father and son are imprisoned."

Colombia's narco-business has given rise to many tragedies. This is just one more.

The Caribbean island that scorned tourism