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Perez estimates at least 250 acres (100 hectares) of marijuana plants grow in the Cauca. What is grown on the Nasa indigenous reserve is legally protected from destruction. At night, the hills around Toribio are pitted with lights used by cultivators to accelerate the plants' growth and potency. As those lights went off at dawn Wednesday, hundreds of Nasa headed for the strategic hilltop, where a small group of soldiers was encamped, charged with protecting communications antennas and keeping an eye on mountain trails regularly used by the FARC. Among the Indians were "guardians," men and women who carry staffs hewed from palm trees and decorated with brightly colored ribbons. The staffs, says Yule, are instruments of authority only and cannot be used as weapons. In the ensuing pandemonium, several dozen Indians encircled six soldiers and forced them off the hilltop. One soldier fired a burst of shots into the air, sending reporters scurrying. But only egos were hurt. The images, meanwhile, were published around the world. The mayhem was strangely isolated. While those involved in the struggle kicked up dust, hundreds more Nasa peacefully rested on the grass as other solders gathered their belongings and sheepishly retreated downhill. The next day, however, the soldiers, accompanied by riot police, were back. Firing tear gas and buckshot, they retook the hilltop. Eight Nasa were injured, none critically, said Luis Angel Penna, Toribio's assistant hospital director. And the violence wasn't over. Two local men were killed by gunfire over the next two days in the neighboring towns, one during a demonstration by farmers trying to eject soldiers from their village, another shot for allegedly failing to heed an order to halt at a military roadblock. The tensions and mistrust are not new. In May, 39-year-old coffee picker Julio Dagua was killed near Toribio by rebels who had falsely accused him of being an army informant, said his brother Edgar. "He had been threatened for a long time," he added. Edgar Dagua said residents won't be intimidated by either side in the conflict. "They're going to have to kill all of us." Some of Toribio's residents earlier this month joined the more than 2 million Colombians who have been internally displaced by the country's conflict. They are living temporarily in a shelter in the nearby town of Santander de Quilichao. One is Maria Alejandra Munoz, a garrulous, 38-year-old mother of three who earns her living washing other people's laundry by hand. "You get tired of this conflict." Her brother, Ruben, said that "what people want most is peace for our town." But how? "That's difficult," said Maria Alejandra, leaning against a support in the cramped shelter. "If someone had a formula for it, they'd give it to the presidents."
[Associated
Press;
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