One Woman’s Fight to Save Children From Armed Groups in Colombia

Carmen García’s organization’s motto is simple: “We didn’t give birth to children for war.” 

In Colombia’s eastern Catatumbo region — where armed groups have long clashed and children are frequently caught in the crossfire — García has worked to reclaim young lives from the grip of violence.

Recently, violence has surged in Catatumbo, where clashes between the National Liberation Army (ELN) and FARC dissidents have displaced tens of thousands. In January, the country saw its deadliest massacre in over a decade — roughly 80 killed and 55,000 displaced. The Colombian government promptly suspended peace talks with the ELN. Then in April, a ceasefire with the FARC dissidents expired without renewal.

Against this backdrop, García has worked tirelessly to draw young people away from the pull of war as the founder of Madres del Catatumbo por La Paz (Mothers of Catatumbo for Peace). It’s a foundation dedicated to engaging a volunteer network of women to rescue young people across the territory from recruitment by armed groups. To date, it has helped more than 400 children and young people across the Catatumbo region —  250 directly involved in myriad armed groups, and the rest at imminent risk of recruitment. 

Carmen García

García remembers her childhood as peaceful — days spent at her grandparents’ countryside home near a cool and winding river. All this, despite decades of fighting between the government, left-wing guerilla groups, such as the FARC, right-wing armed groups known as paramilitaries, and drug cartels. 

“It was a paradise. I spent some of the happiest moments of my life there,” she told More to Her Story.

But peace shattered in 1999, when her family fled a paramilitary massacre. Later, her husband was killed by the military in a case labeled a “false positive” — part of a pattern of extrajudicial killings where civilians were falsely presented as guerrilla fighters to meet military quotas or earn financial rewards.

As the years passed, armed groups grew more ruthless. Women García knew began to disappear, accused of collaborating with the military. While the 2016 peace deal between the Colombian government and FARC gave her hope, violence never truly ceased in places like Catatumbo. The withdrawal of FARC left a power vacuum, soon filled by groups like the ELN, FARC dissidents, the Popular Liberation Army, and criminal networks such as Clan del Golfo — all competing over territory and drug routes.

Children became the prime targets of recruitment. Armed groups lured mainly boys aged 15 to 30 with cash, phones, and even women. Others, particularly vulnerable young girls and boys from impoverished communities, are also targeted with promises of money and a sense of belonging; others are forcibly recruited – threatened with violence against them or their families if they do not  comply.

Since 2019, the United Nations has verified more than 1,000 cases of such recruitment in Colombia, with its largest surge occurring in 2023 and 2024. But true figures are likely much higher. International aid struggles to intervene, with many areas too inaccessible or too dangerous. 

García realized only those inside the community could reach the children.

When García launched her organization, armed groups were arranging football matches to entice boys into service. So, Mothers of Catatumbo responded in kind — hosting their own games and competitions, with García using her personal savings to provide modest prizes. The idea: Offer alternatives to armed life, and keep children within the community.

They even built a small school to educate displaced or neglected youth, many of whom had never learned to read. Some mothers volunteered as teachers — many with only a few years of formal schooling themselves. García, who learned to write as an adult, led the way.

“I figured we could get some of the mothers — whichever ones had made it as far as fifth grade, or high school — to help out,” she explained.

A workshop for Mothers of Catatumbo

Now, when Mothers of Catatumbo rescues a young person, it draws on the local knowledge of women in its volunteer network, along with technical support from NGOs and organizations like the International Committee of the Red Cross. Together, they work to locate the child and coordinate a safe handover — often arranging for the child to stay with relatives in another area to avoid retaliation or the risk of being recruited again.

Older children, about 15 years old and above, are especially at risk of being recruited or re-recruited into armed groups, as it is harder for their mothers to exert authority over them.  Some who are rescued, including those who don’t have family to take care of them, will remain in one of the foundation's two shelters — one in Catatumbo and another a few hours away in the city of Cúcuta – with regular access to food, activities, and workshops. 

But beyond formal support, they also receive love, care, and community. One of the boys García has been looking after was recently rescued from an armed group. 

“The mother has very limited resources and doesn’t want to take responsibility for him. So, I told him he could stay with us,” she said, explaining some young people join armed groups because they have nowhere else to go.

He and the other children tell her that the love and care they receive from the foundation is something they did not experience in the armed groups, or even in their own homes.

 “We treat them like humans,” García told More to Her Story. “Now, when some kids see me after turning 18, they ask me if I can write them a recommendation for their university application.”

To reach children already inside armed groups, García knew she needed access to their commanders. Unsure how to approach them directly, she turned to the women closest to those in power — mothers, wives, and sisters.

She asked a friend if she had contacts. Quiet meetings were arranged. García eventually made a personal appeal: “You couldn’t save your own son… but help me save another mother’s child.”

It worked.

In 2020, Mothers of Catatumbo for Peace, secured agreements with ELN and FARC dissidents: children aged 14 and under would be handed over to their families if requested. Women in the foundation track disappearances through phone calls and WhatsApp, then coordinate handovers — sometimes removing children from the region to avoid reprisals.

With older teens, it’s more complicated. Armed groups often refuse to release them outright. Still, the foundation insists on transparency — families must know where their children are, maintain contact, and be notified in case of illness or injury. Despite success in rescuing 250 young people from the grip of armed groups, there are continuous challenges — and García is constantly having to find new solutions.

Carmen García

When the women started requesting that children 14 and under were given to them, the groups shifted their focus to other demographics.“The armed groups began recruiting more children aged 15 and older and also young people from Venezuela and Indigenous communities,” she said. “That’s when we had to step in again.”

The foundation got in touch with women along the border, who got involved in the effort to rescue children. The foundation’s success lies in its deep community roots. Many of the 800 women involved have family members in armed groups, the military, or the police. They know the risks and navigate them daily.

“We still suffer the same pain each mother feels when she calls us and tells us she has a child in a group,” García said. “We wake up in the middle of the night and cry. We have that young person on our minds all day long until we get them back.”

Elena Toral* (not her real name) watched in horror as the ELN tried to win over her 12-year-old son with food, gifts, and money. A few years earlier, her daughter had narrowly escaped being sold into sexual slavery by the same group.

They told Toral that her daughter already had an “owner,” and threatened to kill the family if she didn’t go with them.

So, Toral turned to García for help. “They guided us during the most difficult moments — both in how to cope emotionally, as well as [through] support with education and training,” Toral said, eventually helping her children move to live with their grandmother in safety.

The humanitarian crisis in Colombia reached its worst point since the 2016 peace accord, according to the International Committee of the Red Cross. In early 2025, ELN fighters attacked five municipalities in Catatumbo, displacing thousands. Human Rights Watch accused armed groups of widespread abuses — killings, kidnappings, and forced recruitment.

García’s phone buzzes constantly with calls from families seeking help. She is coordinating aid for displaced people and planning a new rescue — this time, for a 13-year-old boy.

She has received death threats from multiple groups and now travels with a bodyguard. But she refuses to be silenced.

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “If I have to die for this, then so be it. If I could have rescued those fighters when they were children, I would have — with all my heart.”