- A women-led fish farming initiative in Colombia’s Putumayo department offers an alternative to the coca economy, challenging both environmental damage and traditional gender roles.
- Wedged between the Ecuadorian border and the fringes of the Amazon, Putumayo has long been heavily affected by armed conflict and coca cultivation, resulting in high levels of violence and human rights abuses.
- The initiative empowers women, challenging traditional gender roles in rural Colombia by providing stable, legal income and reducing dependency on the dangerous coca economy.
- Financial constraints, limited government support, lack of infrastructure, as well as persistent threats from armed groups hinder the development of alternatives to coca farming.
EL VENADO, Colombia — Until recently, the rolling green hills surrounding the tiny Colombian community of El Venado were covered with illegal coca plantations. Deep in the southern state of Putumayo and away from government oversight, Graciela Castillo, like many other locals, grew coca, a key ingredient in the production of cocaine.
Putumayo’s economy has long been tethered to coca production, with the illicit drug trade providing a stable and reliable economic lifeline for rural communities. But this has also exposed them to armed groups, human rights abuses and instability. Seeking an alternative, Castillo and other local women have switched to fish farming, which allows them to make a living, distance themselves from violence and fight against gender stereotypes.
“The conflict has been going on for many years and now it has become more visible,” says Castillo, whose brother was killed in 1995 as part of the wider conflict in Putumayo, while she and her family had to move. “People are no longer silent, they are speaking up, but before you had to watch and keep quiet, otherwise you would be killed or displaced,” she tells Mongabay.
Pushed by necessity, Castillo eventually returned to Putumayo to work in the coca fields; but as she continued facing insecurity, she sought a different livelihood. She is now a member of the local fishing cooperative Asociación de Piscicultoras y Productoras Agropecuarias El Progreso, known by its acronym ASOPPAEP, a female-led collective established in 2013 that focuses on a legal, safer alternative to the coca industry.
All of the 12 women who are part of ASOPPAEP used to work in the drug trade. Eight of them had been displaced by Colombia’s armed conflict. The small group now independently operates four fish farms in El Venado, producing nearly 4 metric tons of tilapia and tambaqui fish (Colossoma macropomum) every six months. They sell it to local distributors for the domestic market.
“Coca moved everything, it’s no secret that nothing can replace it, it’s been a tough change. The income we generate is not that high, but we are not going to find the collective peace and tranquility we now have anywhere else,” Castillo says.
They began with a single fishpond. The women razed their coca crops and installed their first pool, developed with support from the local government that later provided them with equipment to build a second pond.
Gradually, through their earnings and a loan of 16 million pesos ($3,700), ASOPPAEP expanded to a third and fourth pool. It wasn’t easy: they lost batches of fish to illness, they had to learn the technical side of aquaculture, and struggled to find equipment designed for women, such as adequate waterproof gear.
Putumayo’s mainstream economy
Putumayo, located in Colombia’s southern Amazonian corridor, has historically been a coca stronghold. In 2022, around 65% of Colombia’s coca cultivation was concentrated here and in the departments of Nariño and Norte de Santander. Fertile soils, the proximity to the Ecuadorian border, the presence of waterways for transportation, and a persistent lack of government oversight have historically allowed the illicit economy to flourish in the region.
Coca cultivation in Putumayo has driven widespread deforestation, which has led to soil degradation and put pressure on ecosystems that support the local water supply and agriculture.
“Many women were involved in coca cultivation in Colombia because coca is a product with a guaranteed price and a guaranteed buyer market,” says Elizabeth Dickinson, senior analyst for Colombia at the International Crisis Group. “It was the most accessible, and often the only real, economic possibility for single mothers to create a better future for their children. It was a subsistence living, but it was a consistent income — and one of very few in rural Colombia.”
This concentration of coca has drawn armed groups seeking control — the Carolina Ramírez Front and Comandos de la Frontera being the most active across Putumayo — and with them, a surge in violence. In 2023, the state’s murder rate surged to 61.4 per 100,000 inhabitants, more than double the national average.
Women working in the cocaine trade have been particularly at risk of gender-based violence and exploitation by traffickers and armed groups.
“[W]hat’s involved in coca cultivation is a regular interaction with criminal traffickers and all that it implies,” Dickinson tells Mongabay. “Women, especially in rural areas, and particularly when they are economically dependent and on activity that’s linked to an armed group, find themselves at the center of the risks of this business.”
Challenging gender roles
Through ASOPPAEP, women in El Venado have not only stepped away from the drug trade, but learned to manage resources, collaborate with officials, and develop strategies to maintain their operations. Castillo, who works at the co-op alongside her older sister, Argenes, says the effort isn’t just about financial gain — it’s about reclaiming agency in a space historically dominated by male-led, coca-dependent economies.
“Before, being a woman was a weakness. At first, people doubted us, we were told that as women we weren’t going to succeed, that we were not going to be able to work, or that we were not going to have income,” Castillo says.
“Now it’s our strength, and each of us has gotten empowered.”
ASOPPAEP has also taken on an important environmental role. Members recycle fish scales into collagen for the local market and use the fish entrails as fertilizer, minimizing waste and reducing their environmental footprint.
Obstacles to long-term viability
The ASOPPAEP model isn’t without challenges. Financing remains a constant struggle, with many members dependent on small earnings while the fish mature over the six-month production cycle. Members supplement their income through other activities, including raising chickens, cooking meals, and selling empanadas. But the fish farms are only profitable if they can scale up and produce consistently.
Access to further financial support or new markets is limited, and the specter of armed groups looms as a potential threat to the cooperative’s stability.
The Colombian government’s National Comprehensive Program for the Substitution of Illicit Crops (PNIS) was established in 2017 to support individuals transitioning away from coca. But implementation has been uneven, with many participants in Putumayo receiving partial or delayed payments, discouraging communities from fully embracing the program.
In August, the government announced that it would invest more than $18.6 million in Putumayo to foster and develop the local cocoa industry in a bid to replace the illicit coca economy.
But experts worry about the precariousness of such initiatives in the face of weak state support and the constant presence of organized crime across Putumayo.
“Decades of alternative economic development have utterly failed in regions where it doesn’t go hand in hand with a legal state presence and investments in rural infrastructure,” Bram Ebus, a consultant at the International Crisis Group, told Mongabay.
“Local populations need protection because, sometimes, these coca farmers have become a target if they want to phase out of the illicit economy because armed groups want them as cheap manual labor. If there’s no security for these rural populations, we cannot expect them to make the switch to legal livelihoods.”
ASOPPAEP members are holding their ground, emboldened by the relative safety and security their project offers.
“We are enterprising women, and we want to get ahead for our families and continue fighting to be able to provide employment,” says Argenes, the older of the Castillo sisters.
“That’s our desire, to be able to survive in a different manner and to live without coca.”
Banner image by Michelle Carrere/Mongabay.
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