Pueblo Bello images, plus the only shot of traditional Aruhaco dress I was able to capture, in a painting on the transportation company wall...
After the stressful and somewhat comical (in retrospect) journey to Pueblo Bello, Jennifer & I caught a ride in a jeep to Nabusimake. While the distance to the community was probably no more than 20 kilometers, it took 2 hours to arrive, thanks to the condition of the road: basically we drove on the side of the mountain, which had been cleared of vegetation in a path, but no more was done to construct a "road" as we know it.
some images of the "road" from the jeep
We arrived in Nabusimake around midday, and were dropped off at the end of the "road". The driver pointed us in the direction of the school, and told us to walk straight & up a hill to arrive. We were to meet Alejandra, the social sciences teacher at the high school (who was good friends with a coworker of Diana and had helped us arrange the visit). We headed in the direction of the school, and soon found ourselves in the middle of what was more appropriately a swamp, rather than land. And some points we trudged through water/mud to our ankles. Slightly embarrassing showing up to the school with feet covered in mud.
Alejandra greeted us once she was out of class, and we walked through the school to her office, with the silent, curious stares of students following us. We ate lunch and she explained what we would do while she finished up with classes for the afternoon. She recruited a student named Florentino to guide us to the house at which we would register and pay our entrance fee into the community.
Florentino was dressed in traditional clothes: all white, a tunic-like top with layered white pants that came to his mid-shin. He wore homemade sandals, and a white cap over his long hair. He didn't speak much, and when we asked him questions we had to repeat ourselves a number of times for him to understand - I realized that his Spanish was possibly even worse than mine. His primary language is Aruhaco. When I asked how old he was, his response was "I am small, but I am big." After prodding a bit more, he said he was 17. He walked super fast, and always in front of us. We were jogging to keep up with him as he walked up a steep hill. He had a grin on his face when we spoke to him, though it seemed like a shy smile, something he couldn't control, maybe even something he wished would go away. He was very cute, if maybe a bit inaccessible.
We arrived at a home where we asked where to register. A man had us write our information in a small notebook and we paid him 10,000 pesos - $5.50. He then provided us with a piece of paper that served as our "registration card", which he said we should provide to the authorities if asked when we moved about the community and surrounding mountains.
We requested a guide for Tuesday to take us to El Salto, a beautiful spot in a nearby mountain that remained in mystery to me - I had no idea what was there, but people said we should go there if we wanted to connect with nature. A small man named Casiano said he would take us, and scheduled to arrive at Alejandra's house at 9:00AM Tuesday morning to lead the way.
We returned to the school, and from there walked with Alejandra back to her house (25 minute walk along dirt paths along the Nabusimake river). We stopped at the home of Alejandra's landlord, Señora Chepa, a strong woman in the community. We stayed for a tinto (coffee) and chatted with her grandchildren. A Bogotano arrived carrying bags and bags of supplies from the market, and told us that he was friends from the National University with Señora Chepa's son, the pride of her family, who was working with the indigenous authority in Valledupar. The Bogotano, German, said that he comes to Nabusimake to think and work the land. He was reserved but very respectful.
Once we dropped out things off at Alejandra's house, we headed out on a walk to get to know the area. We walked to the graveyard, where Alejandra told us about the mix of traditional and Catholic methods for burying the dead - traditionally the Mamo (village holyman) would determine where a body should be buried, so that there was never a "graveyard", but graves all around the area. Traditionally people were buried with a pile of rocks covering their grave, with a long stick protruding from the grave, so that people could leave offerings. Now, after missionaries had visited the community decades ago, and many people had been converted to Catholicism, people were often buried in a graveyard, with graves of both traditional rock piles and marble gravestones dotting the hilltop graveyard.
mixture: traditional rock pile + a cross...
We then headed to the Nabusimake river, which is considered holy, and observed a gorgeous sunset. A woman came out to speak with us. She said I reminded her of the daughters of an old neighbor (random!), and offered to sell us a poporo - the instrument with which Aruhaco men mix crushed shells and coca to chew (men are constantly chewing coca, and constantly high). The woman was weaving a backpack as she spoke to us, as women are constantly either spinning wool/cotton or weaving backpacks - this is their main activity, beside cooking and taking care of the children.
Alejandra, Jennifer, & me under the sunset-lit sky
Rio Nabusimake
Sunset over the Andes
Tuesday morning Casiano arrived on a horse, and we took off for a high-intensity hike to El Salto.
Traditional homes along the hike
Casiano on his horse, and the majestic Andes
Andes
We were basically jogging to keep up with Casiano, who was at times trotting on his horse (was he trying to lose us???), and I came to realize a couple of things: women never walk with men, but always behind them; when walking, it is not normal to talk among the Aruhaca - Florentino & Casiano were walking in front of us and with a mission, no time for small talk, but a destination ahead of us and our moving feet to reach it. We passed by the home of an elderly woman, who was apparently well respected in the community, and we offered her an apple as a token of respect, but she didn't recognize the fruit, and refused to accept it. :( We gave it to one of her sons.
We finally reached a point at which Casiano got off his horse, and basically ran up a muddy, thin trail along the side of a cliff to reach El Salto, we followed behind him, and turned a curve in the trail to see El Salto, the waterfall known as Atijuirivan, the mother of water, to the local community. We had been told that a god lives in the water, and we asked if it were acceptable to swim in the pool beneath the waterfall. Casiano said that it was, and that swimming in the water had purifying effects on those who dare the glacial water. Indeed, when we dove in, it was shocking - my lungs closed up from the cold. I was in for a few moments, and then quickly scrambled my way up the slick rocks to escape the cold. Jennifer braved the water for a few whole minutes, and later paid the price in a mild case of hypothermia.
Atijuirivan
After about an hour at the waterfall we left, and Casiano told us to go ahead, as he had to clean the energies behind us. Apparently he had run up the trail in order to ask permission for our entrance from the god living in the water. We were later told that Atijuirivan is home to the Goddess of Fertility, and that
Jennifer & I on the return hike
pointing to the village, where we began the hike
in the village, and at dinner
Wednesday morning we went on another guided hike, this time with Casiano's sister, Aurhelia, whose indigenous name is Atijuiri - mother of water. She was much more talkative, and it was really interesting to hear her perspective on things. For example, at a community meeting the authorities said that it was forbidden to marry outside of the tribe, and Atijuiri stood up and challenged that rule, saying that it was impossible to control the heart, to control love, and so they shouldn't try to do so. While she is undoubtedly looked down upon by members of the community for being so open minded, it was refreshing to hear her confidence and strong opinions after a few days learning about the severe gender inequality in the community.
Atijuiri led us to a place called San Francisco, which happened to be where her umbilical cord is buried (this is an integral part of ceremony when a child is born - the umbilical is preserved for a week and then buried, and this burial spot then gives the child a tie to the earth - they have a place to call home). She said she would have to pay respects to her umbilical cord when we went, and send the message that she is always thinking of it, that she is always connected.
San Francisco is a spot where 4 rivers combine, and all of their energies combine to create a strong purifying force. Jennifer and I once again swam in the river, though this time the water was just slightly warmer. We walked to an outcropping of rocks and released ourselves to the river, which carried us swiftly about 40 meters, where we then caught another rock before the river fell into rapids and small falls. It was fun, and also I think I might have felt the purifying powers of the rivers.
Wednesday afternoon Jennifer and I bought a backpack from Atijuiri, one that she herself wove, and then we headed back to the house to make dinner and pack our things. Thursday morning we were picked up at 5:00AM for a long trip back to Pueblo Bello, Valledupar, Barranquilla, and finally Bogotá.
It was truly a unique experience to visit Nabusimake - it was wonderful to be in a place where nature is valued, and where every tree and stone is sacred. It was also very interesting to witness the faults of the community, where there is room for improvement, especially after forming the idea that indigenous people have some secret answer to how to live in the world. In some ways I am sure that is true, exploitation is not part of their vocabulary. But at the same time, inequality and severe punishments, a lack of human rights, seem present in Nabusimake, and I am not sure I would vote for the way of life there, if I had to choose. It has definitely given me a lot to think about.
