How Cali hopes to turn its notorious red-light district into Paradise City
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Version 0 of 1. While it proudly refers to itself as the Salsa Capital, and the “sweetest”, most “partying” city of Colombia, Cali’s most beloved nickname is Sucursal del Cielo – something equivalent to “Heaven on Earth”. Outside the city, however, it is probably best known as the home of the Cali Cartel, which has long supplied a significant chunk of all the cocaine consumed around the world – and as one of the most violent cities in the Americas (although homicide numbers have been dropping in the last few years). In an effort to change this image, the city began an extreme makeover in July which will see three centrally located neighbourhoods that are an integral part of Cali’s illustrious and ignominious history razed to make room for a new, 30-block city centre called Ciudad Paraiso (Paradise City). The transformation comes at a time when Cali, as with Colombia as a whole, is desperately trying to leave behind its violent past – talks are advancing to end the 50-year-old war between the government and the Farc rebel group – and to create a capital-, consumer- and tourist-friendly city that meets the demands of the newly signed Free Trade Agreement with the US. The first neighbourhood to be wiped from the map is El Calvario, former site of the city’s largest produce and meat market, to be replaced by a 25,000 sq m upscale mall. The city’s police rarely patrolled the streets here, making El Calvario one of the most dangerous parts of Cali – which itself has frequently been rated Colombia’s most dangerous city. Basuco is more addictive than cocaine; its effects are obvious in the emaciated people who buy it in El Calvario The Galería Central market was an enormous brick structure built at the end of 19th century, strategically located next to the historic city centre and along the route of trains, trolleys and riverboats. Over the decades, hotels, bars, dance halls and brothels grew up around the market, and El Calvario became the city’s official red-light district. The market was refurbished into an impressive modernist glass structure, but then demolished in 1968, after which the neighbourhood was left to fend for itself. Impromptu commercial spaces sprang up where the market had been, selling fruit, vegetables and meat, and also herbs, magic potions and furniture. But El Calvario never regained its former glory. The disinvestment of a centrally located neighbourhood – inevitably leading to a deterioration of living standards and a rise in drug abuse and crime – is, however, part of a long-term process of gentrification, as a depressed real-estate market is a developer’s best opportunity. Slum clearance, the phase of the process before redevelopment, has long been used by governments throughout Europe and America in an effort to disarticulate centres of crime, jump-start the local economy and, in theory at least, improve the image of their cities. Besides the informal vendors, one of El Calvario’s main industries today is the collection and distribution of garbage, with more than 60 warehouses dealing in refuse. The rag-and-bone men who comb the streets of the city eventually end up here, lugging garbage on their backs, by hand-trolleys or horse-drawn carts. Many also sleep on these streets, or in tiny rooms in backyards: temporary lodging for this large, floating population. Since the days of the Galería Central, El Calvario has been a major destination for immigrants from the countryside, and thousands of campesinos – indigenous people and Afro-Colombians displaced by the war who have flocked to Cali – wind up living here. There are some skid-row hotels, but most of the dwellings are “flophouses” erected in vacant lots with dozens of bare rooms the size of closets, tiny mattresses on the floors, and toilets without running water, which charge as little as half a dollar a night. El Calvario is known locally as la olla (literally “the pot”: a place to buy drugs) but also as a metedero (a hiding place to do drugs or have sex), and is legally considered a “tolerance zone” where commercial sex and drug use flourishes with little police intervention. Dealers have taken over several abandoned buildings from which they sell mostly basuco, the cheapest form of cocaine which is processed with sulphuric acid and kerosene and often mixed with marijuana or tobacco. Basuco (the name is derived from base sucia de coca: dirty cocaine paste) is much more addictive than cocaine; its effects are obvious in the dozens of emaciated people who line up outside the houses where it’s sold in El Calvario. John Garzón, a 30-year-old visual artist from Cali, went to high school in the centre of the city, and used to visit El Calvario sometimes. He recently held an exhibition of hundreds of the basuco wrappers (each dealer had his own brand printed on the paper) that he’d collected from one house in the neighbourhood. “Although some people from the middle-classes consume basuco,” says Garzón (who does not), “it’s mostly sold to addicts who live on the street and who scavenge garbage just to pay for the powder.” Sicarios (contract killers) have also been known to take over buildings and use the area as a safe haven. Oscar Murillo, a taxi driver in his 50s who refuses to drive through El Calvario, calls the addicts there the walking dead. “Clearing out the zombies is a great idea; it’s going to lessen the crime in the area and provide a fresh start for legitimate businesses.” These are places full of life … No one dances spontaneously in a mall The demolition process in El Calvario has already begun. But to clear space for more than 4,000 housing units, office buildings, a bus terminal, parks and plazas, plus the attorney general’s administrative centre, the neighbouring districts of San Pascual (a lower-class residential neighbourhood) and Sucre (an industrial area) will also be levelled over the next couple of years. The only structures that will be left alone are a church and a police precinct, which together occupy a whole block, smack in the middle of the area. Cali’s transformation follows the success claimed by other major cities in Colombia that have undergone radical urban reconstruction. The construction of Ciudad Paraiso, a 100% Colombian mixed public-private venture, is one of several bulwarks planned for the redevelopment, and pacification, of the historic centre of this city. Related: 'Chaos? This is open-heart surgery': Medellín bets it all on burying a highway According to María de la Mercedes Romero, the architect overseeing the redevelopment, Ciudad Paraiso will help create a city that is more compact, efficient, functional and self-sustainable. “This project will not only solve urban problems; it’s also an opportunity for the private sector to invest in the construction of the city, and thus create a change of mentality from the individual to the collective.” Not everyone, however, feels that destroying these neighbourhoods will improve Cali, a city known for its laid-back spirit where people feel free to socialise on the street and in public spaces. Karina Collazos, a 25-year-old contemporary dancer who has been documenting homeless women dancing in the streets for years, has performed in El Calvario and other areas which she believes are an important part of what makes Cali so special. “These are places full of life, where people have complete freedom to do what they want. No one dances spontaneously in a mall.” As these neighbourhoods are razed and reborn as Ciudad Paraiso, the formal economy and real-estate market in the centre of Cali will surely benefit, while the displacement of El Calvario’s marginal population will most likely cast urban blight down upon less centrally located neighbourhoods. Both are aspects of an endlessly shifting urban landscape that together define the spirit of this city. Kurt Hollander is a writer and photographer based in Mexico City. Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook and join the discussion |