Monday, June 3, 2013

My Mom celebrates her 56th birthday in Columbia! My travel journal continues.

Another of my travel diaries involved a family trip in October 1973 to Columbia. My Father was

President of the Kellogg Foundation and we were visiting some of the programs the foundation was

supporting at the time.  My diary focused on two specific events. The first one I will describe

by first posting a letter to the Policeman's horse who I met at the Santana concert in Bogata.

Dear Policeman's horse,

    I know that it must have been a very stressful day for you. The Bogata students had been rioting in the

streets for the past 6 days. The police department was using you to control the crowds in the streets.

We had arrived in Bogata the night before and I was still taking in all the smells and noises of the city.

It was arranged that I would attend the Santana concert with a chaperone for the evening. The limo

arrived at the Hilton to pick me up with the chaperone already in the car along with a body guard.

As we arrived at the auditorium venue, there was a long line of people waiting to go into the concert.

We moved to the line noticing the police lined up with guns next to the parking lot.

    When we moved into the line, I noticed you for the first time. You were in a line with 10 other

horses and riders. To my left I viewed a group of college students yelling at you. You were

trained to control crowds. You were ready.

    As you moved through the crowd, the students moved closer to our concert line. That is when you

went into your work mode. Trying to keep the students from the concert line, you backed up towards

the line. To my surprise, I was right at the spot where you backed up. Further and Further you backed

up, I was pressed against the wall with my body guard standing between your back end and me. With

a slight buck, you moved forward and all was fine.

    I am sorry that we met in October of 1973 this way. You were just doing your job and I forgive you.

  Your Friend,

Karen Mawby

                                      In 1977 Carlos Santana wore a all white suit to all his concerts!

   In addition to my concert experience (first time smelling pot at a concert and running to the limo amid

gun fire and rioting after the concert), we celebrated my mother's 56th birthday at a fancy restaurant the

next night. I wrote in my diary about an obnoxious American women who was attending the birthday

party. My evening was spent in the little bathroom avoiding this obnoxious drunk woman at our table

My diary talked about this event though my Father remembers it differently. He says that I went out to

the car and waited. Since this was an time of kidnappings in Columbia, I believe that my diaries tell

the truth and I hid in the bathroom.

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