La Cienaga

It was difficult to get on the road again after spending so long at La Fruta.  When we arrived in Santa Marta, the city adjacent to La Fruta, we stayed at the apartment of our friends Helmi and Carolina.  There, we found ourselves at home and comfortable with a couple we had known for only a short time, enjoying a friendship that grew ever faster the less time we had left. After five days (we had planned three) we went to the bus station late at night to catch the last bus to Medellin – and our next adventure!  When we arrived, all the buses had left, and after a recovery period in the bus station (during which time Claire suggested we could just sleep there…) we called our friends, and sulked back to their apartment. 

They were glad to have us back, and the event proved another ‘lucky mishap’ on our path, as we were invited the following evening to join Helmi and Carroll with their Shaman, John, to participate in a ceremony in his 'casita' in the mountains.  We arrived around sunset, after walking up the dirt road, and collecting wood for the fire for the evening.  We spent the night talking and meditating around the fire, enjoying the pristine view of the Palomino River as it winds witlessly around itself before pouring its secrets into the Caribbean.  The night was quite profound, especially for Claire who really delved into herself and her relationship with the world, and we left the next morning more in tune with ourselves, one another, nature, and the road upon which we have embarked.

After that we finally did catch the bus to Medellin.  The 20 hour ride was windy and heavily air-conditioned, but we made it with a solid amount of sleep and only a few crinks in our necks.  There, we met our friend Daniel, who we had met at La Fruta and who offered to host us in Medellin.  Daniel welcomed us to his apartment, and after a nice afternoon meal, he whisked us off to his family’s mountain house in the forest.  Called La Mafafa because of the massive plants of the same name which grow all around its base, the house is built into trees with stilts, overlooking a dense forest and a pristine creek which flows below.  We spent three beautiful days doing yoga, eating wonderful food, and wandering the woods and creek in the pristine wilderness.  We enjoyed the power of standing under a massive waterfall, seeing the reflection of the third-eye of a strikingly green colibri (humming-bird), and even visits from incredibly friendly butterflies happy to land on our shoulder or hand to catch a ride and whisper their secrets.

After three days at La Mafafa, we returned to civilization and the city of Medellin.  We found an American guy named Jason through couchsurfing who had an extra room and let us crash at his place.  The place was in a nice part of town, and Jason was nice, intelligent, and interesting to talk with.  While we share very different worldviews, and walk very disparate paths, meeting and spending time with Jason was a wonderful reminder that many of those who see things differently and have different goals for their lives still want the good for the world.  We stayed up several nights debating the different approaches that we saw for reaching ‘the best for people’, and while we never did find agreement, it was great and refreshing to have a debate about the United States which escaped the dangerously shallow political discourse, and to have both parties listen with mutual respect rather than closing their minds along ideological lines. 

After a few days in the city, we were itching to move on to the South and resume our WOOFing at a Finca in San Agustin, where we had agreed to start on the 1^st of March.  Unfortunately, (certainly, more for those involved than for us), the main road south – and the only route by road to reach neighboring Ecuador – was closed due to a blockade and subsequent protest held by both the coffee workers and the transportation workers simultaneously.  The implications of this strike had been quite serious for those involved, and the Finca which we had planned to visit had all but closed as no traffic could reach it.  We called around for a few other Fincas in the area, but had no luck finding anything.  Good thing Jason was so warm and willing to host us – we had nowhere to go.

It was hard not to feel a bit disappointed – we had just had such profound experiences in the Sierra Nevada, and we were eager to continue learning and progressing.  More time in the city is not what we had expected.  Once again, the obstacle presented yielded a more brilliant result for Claire and I.  A friend of Jason’s, named Viviana, told us that she had a friend in the city with a sustainable farming project near Medellin.  Three days later, we sat down for a drink with the kind, warm face of Jaime - an accountant by trade, who took out his laptop and gave us an hour-long introduction to the project he was working on.  It sounded perfect.  He let us know that he would be heading up to the Mountains that weekend to work on the project, and that we were welcome to join, and stay in the house as long as we wanted, provided we could provide ourselves food.  We readily agreed.

As we drove the winding, mountainous roads west from Medellin, we were greeted with incredibly beautiful mountain views and sheer, steep valleys flowing to the River Cauca at their depths.  Jaime filled us in more about the project as we drove.  He is working with a retired University Professor of Indigenous pottery and art named Jorge, who is being assisted by the community in which they live – La Cienaga – and particularly by a young man named Eihder who was born in the area and is the lifeblood of the project.  The idea of the project is to help local farmers, all of whom have indigenous ancestry and still use some practices revolving around indigenous tradition, to recover their ancestry and relearn some of the ancient farming practices, culture, and religion that has been lost during the past three hundred years.  Furthermore, the project aims to combine these goals with new approaches to agriculture, including Permaculture techniques, the inclusion of native and non-native seeds, and farmer-to-farmer collaboration.  The project is, more or less, exactly what Claire and I are trying to do once we return to Zambia.  To work with, learn from, and collaborate with the people who live off the land, in tune with the earth; the people who serve as a reminder that real wisdom comes not from textbooks, laboratories, and technology – but rather from an understanding of the Madre Tierra that feeds, shelters, and provides for all beings on this planet.

We arrived after dusk from a steep climb of about 40 minutes, offering views which would have stolen our breath, if only we could have caught it first.  At nearly 6,000 feet, the community of La Cienaga was a big change from (easily) less than 1,000 at La Fruta.  We arrived first at the house of Jaime’s parents, who offered us some wonderful food, cooked over a wood stove with all the love of a warm home.  We chatted a bit with Ruth and Hernando, Jaime’s parents, and quickly found where he got his geniality and kindness.  After dinner, we climbed to the project’s central house, and met Gorge – the project director, a man who has more knowledge than we could possibly hope to absorb, and the love and patience to teach it – and Eihder – a Campesino of about our age with whom we quickly became friends. We stayed up chatting for a bit, and then prepared to see La Cienaga the next day in the daylight.

The following day we met the rest of the community – about 6 or 7 families living relatively near each other, each with their own garden and fields and tracts of land.  We quickly found the people incredibly amiable and eager to share.  We had more smiles, food, and warm Agua Panela than we could have hoped.  We felt immediately at home, and couldn’t help noticing the similarities between this community, in the heart of Colombia, and the communities in which we lived across the globe in Zambia.  Here, like there, it is still the people who come first.

Of course, not all things in the Community are so perfect.  There are many problems mounting because of the presence of a Canadian-owned Gold mine which is nearby, which has (surprise, surprise) succeeded in polluting water supplies and brought social problems regarding the employment, lodging, and integration of the miners.  Furthermore, illegal mining activities at the mine seems, performed by women, children, and men all without proper protection or tools, increase the already high danger of fatality or injury in the mining area. 

This lesson is one that has hit hard, but as La Cienaga is removed from the mining, we have not witnessed it with our own eyes – only through the sorrowful words of the friends we have made here.  However, another environmentally destructive practice has been more evident.  The second day here, we went walking up the mountain to find sources of water – it seems that water has been incredibly short for the communities further down the mountain in recent years.  The area of La Cienaga was once a cloud-forest (paramo), meaning that while there were not always periods of rain, the forests were able to trap and absorb moisture from the clouds, and thus return it to the soil and streams of the area.  When we climbed to the top of the mountain, we huge tracts of land felled completely of trees in order to open space for grazing cattle.  Subsequently, the trees can’t trap the moisture from the clouds, which now blow hastily over the peaks without depositing the water so essential for the area’s survival.  What makes matters worse is that the ‘gentleman’ who owns the land doesn’t live in the area, but rather in the city, and in the fifteen years since the trees have been cut, not a cattle has been seen on the barren slopes.

How anyone could act with such callousness and insensitivity to nature is difficult to comprehend.  How anyone could do so with the knowledge that this action would negatively affect hundreds of people and leave them without their basic needs of survival is inexcusable.  But, after all, it is ‘his land’…

Luckily, projects like the one that Jorge, Jaime, and Eihder are working on are offering a different, more reasonable way forward.  The group found another water source nearby (apparently with a more sensible owner, who left trees to gather water), and some of the water in the stream will be rerouted to offer water to the parched riverbeds below the clear-cut.  Hopefully, this will hold the community over until the rains fall again.

Working with Jorge and Eihder, and spending time with the other families in La Cienaga, has taught us an incredible amount about the humility and knowledge of the people here, as well as lots of practical knowledge about organic agriculture.  We have been working in the gardens and fields, as well as spending time preparing and processing seeds and roots which have been used ancestrally but recently forgotten in the community.  In order to restore enthusiasm in these practices, Claire has been using the oven at the house (did I mention we have electricity!?) to combine creative recipes and love to offer some unique cookies with truly distinct ingredient variations including Quinoa, Chia, Amarantho, Achira, and other native grains. 

Throughout this time here, we are constantly grateful for being received so well, and being lucky enough to work with and learn from such genuine, open, and caring people.  Often, people within the community offer us thanks for visiting with them and talking, and we feel a pang of guilt that we can’t offer more than conversation, friendship and cookies, as these wonderful friends have opened their homes and their hearts to us.  I suppose we are still collecting positivity and love from around the World, so that once we finally have a home, we can open it to those who pass by with equal warmth, compassion, and freedom.

Leaving La Fruta

la comunidad

The transformation of La Fruta from a Finca of a few guys living in the bush to a full-on community has been incredibly fast.  There are now several couples and a solid group of people living there, working the fields which are producing vegetables, sharing together, and cultivating their souls via spiritual work. Claire and I can’t help but feel proud that we were a (small) part of it.  That we had the audacity, flexibility, and motivation (stubbornness?) to stay when others left.  To bare the raw, abrupt, yet incredibly beautiful waves of emotion, energy, and momentum pulsating through the Sierra Nevada.  These challenges taught us so much practically, intellectually, and spiritually, and it is an honor to feel that we also gave all we had to La Fruta and its people. Nevertheless, after intending to stay (in varying degrees) for one night? less than a month? after 3 months we felt that it was time to move on.

we harvested the first batch of veggies from la "huerta" just in time to enjoy them with the family for our last lunch.

The last few days were incredibly intense, due in part to the work which presented itself (hauling 1000 yard hoses, 4” in diameter up steep mountain slopes), and in part because of the interaction with Santiago.  In the end, Claire remained with her unconditional love for our family at La Fruta, especially Santiago, and she left like the falling sun, her beautiful energy fading from bright yellow rays to the florescent brilliance of orange and finishing with the pink hues that soften the memory and make absorbing the experience easier to handle.

My exit was much more tumultuous.  I suppose I had much more to learn.  In the end, I learned some huge lessons from Santiago about leadership, spirituality, and releasing my ego.  I was able to release some tensions that I held about our relationship, be open and honest with him about our past, and learn that my focus on his behavior had distracted me from controlling and focusing on my own path.  It is unfortunate that it took until the last days to learn these lessons, as there was much more I could have learned if I was open to receiving it, but every lesson comes at its time.

We spent the last night around the Sacred fire circle, where we offered payments to the spirits of the Sierra Nevada, played music, and connected with one another.  Two relatively reserved people at the Finca – Javier and Marley – opened up to rap, sing, and share their talents and part of themselves with the group.  These special moments were a fitting end, coming full-circle, with Claire and I sitting in our ‘seats’ at the circle – huge rocks we hauled ourselves from the river after searching for hours for the right boulder to ‘call’ to us.  We were the most ‘veteran’ people remaining at the circle, feeling at home in the place that we were about to leave, where we had invested so much of ourselves. Yet we were sharing with those who would carry on the love and energy of La Fruta, and we were honored to know things would continue with such wonderful people.

todo es arte at la fruta. life is art.

 with our survivor-story vegetarian-inducing chicken Rudy in the background

When we left, saying goodbye to Yerit and Santiago was the hardest.  Almost in tears, we embraced, with thanks beyond words.  Santiago offered both Claire and I sacred stones of protection, blessed by both he and the Mamo.  We left with promises to return, and in that moment it became clear that these promises were sincere.  We left La Fruta a different place than we found it, and it will always be a part of us.  We will return, to find our friends, and seek some of the ever-elusive peace and tranquility that unite us – both with ourselves and one another. We walked down the hill with Claire in tears, walking away from our new home and new friends to face new challenges and learn new lessons, carving more of our path through this beautiful world.   

Viva Carnival!

Of all the wonderful people we have met at La Fruta, one who deserves special mention is a man named Jimmy.  Jimmy is in his early fifties, with a lengthy, genuine salt-and-pepper beard, kind, wise eyes, and a wiry physique.  He came to visit us at La Fruta one afternoon, and immediately made his impression felt with timely, well-placed advice, an eagerness to work and make necessary improvements (fixing tools, preparing food, you name it), and the age-old ability to captivate an audience with a story.  Jimmy taught us an incredible amount – not only about practical things, but about history, about perspective, and about spirituality.  He is a professor of Arts at the University, where he practices – among other things – puppetry with marionettes.  He has spent significant time in Mexico, living with indigenous peoples there and cultivating his spiritual and cultural philosophies, and his ability to transfer this information to others is incredible.  He also taught us much about La Fruta, as he was good friends with Santiago’s mother Maria, and lived there many times in the past, when the farm was in different form.

Jimmy

The reason Jimmy is so relevant, aside from what I just told you, is that he recently served as our guide in one of the most incredible events in which we have ever participated.  Carnival is a well-known festival which occurs throughout South America. The most well known is in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil – it is the biggest party in the world – but another location known well to people in Latin America (especially Colombians) is in Baranquilla, which subsequently holds the claim for “second biggest” party in the world.  Carnival occurs the weekend before Ash Wednesday, and serves as a release for all worldly pleasures imaginable, as people prepare for their fasting and spiritual cleansing which begins with Lent (on Ash Wednesday, for those less versed in Christianity - I had to look it up). 

Jimmy invited us to attend Carnival with him in Barranquilla.  He explained that he had a place for us to stay, and that we could help him with a display that he had been working on for the event.  We were extremely excited to assist him, and (of course), to take part in the festivities of this exceptional event.  We arrived as a group of about 8 occidentals (westerners), and found Jimmy in a roadside café in the town of Puerto Colombia, about 15 KM outside of Barranquilla.  He welcomed us warmly, and we drank a few beers and discussed life at La Fruta, his time at the University, and eventually, the upcoming carnival.

What we hadn’t realized before is that the ‘display’ Jimmy had been working on was actually at 60-foot-long snake, to be held and danced around by puppeteers (us) through the streets of Barranquilla as part of the biggest Carnival in Colombia.  We weren’t going to see the party, we were going to be in the center of it, feeding it energy through the crowded streets.  Now at this point, we were excited, but naturally a bit of trepidation crept in as well, realizing that we would be front and center as a bunch of ‘gringos’ in a crowd of (in this case) drunk, rowdy Colombians who enjoy the practice of throwing flour in the faces of any and everyone (apparently it’s a Carnival tradition).  We joined Jimmy for the walk from the café to a small community on the outskirts of the town, where 20 or 30 artisans and hippies live in tents overlooking the rolling waves of the Caribbean Sea.  We climbed atop of a brick building and slept on its wooden roof in tents and hammocks, listening to Mother Nature’s breathing – the calm before the storm.

We awoke with the sun, and while some of us meditated, some did yoga, some rolled back over, Jimmy journeyed to the community and prepared some coffee for us.  We walked to the town and had some breakfast, and there we found the party bus which would bring us to Carnival.  Alongside the bus, we saw the head of the Serpent, taller than me and four times as wide.  It took four of us to move it.  This would be quite a day.

"Ay Que Rico" Our aubuelo capitans enjoying the party

On the bus we met some other people who would help us during the festival – this included two unicyclists, and two older, drunk, lively gentleman dressed in sailors costumes.  Together we made quite a team, as we headed to the festival and partook in some of the local cane spirit beverage called Aguardiente.  When we arrived, we departed the bus amidst thousands of performers dressed in all manner of costume. With floats and displays each consisting of its own speakers and music, there were numerous motorized parties going on at once.  We carried the snake to our entry place in the carnival, and then began our costume procession.  We painted our faces, covered ourselves in talc (we were told if we covered ourselves, we would save the more aggressive attacks later), and took in the experience.  After the months of solitude and tranquility at La Fruta, the energy of the party - with competing music blaring from oversized speakers, performers bustling in preparation, and hawkers managing to communicate about their wares above it all - it was quite an event.  I was getting excited now, finally catching up to Claire, who had been full of energy for weeks talking about Carnival.

one of the many colorful groups participating in the carnaval

Before the parade started, we set up the serpent.  As usual, things went wrong.  Both supports for the head broke, and we had to scramble to find branches to make new supports, but in the end we prevailed.  As the line began to move, we jumped into action, wheeling the head onto the street, with 7 or 8 people lined along the length with poles, dancing and weaving the body behind.  We were among one of the only displays in the Carnival made privately and by hand in the original tradition of Carnival, and the sheer size, color, and decoration of the serpent were spectacular.  The event was made more impressive by the history and significance of the Serpent in the indigenous cultures of the area, a story dictated to us eloquently the night before by Jimmy.

As we weaved through the streets, people rose and shouted with excitement at the spectacle.  Encouraged by the energy, we became more energetic, dancing around the support poles, yelling things such as ‘Viva Baranquilla’, and ‘Viva Carnival’, and pumping our hands to entice the crowd.  In the end, the serpent-gringo combination was quite successful, and we received a welcoming from the thousands upon thousands of spectators lining the streets of the parade.  At times we circled the snake, and wrapped around the performers on either side of us, engulfing the monocyclists amidst the circle, or a man inside a metal ball, and on some occasions, even men on stilts towering above us like giants from a fantasy film.

Jimmy's wise-beyond-his-years son Valentin joined us as well

The entire walk took about 4 hours, and we covered a lot of ground as we walked through the city – never stopping, but rather dancing and weaving and circling the colorful serpent.  We faced some opposition from drunk members of the crowd, shouting things about ‘Gringos’ or other offensive comments, but this energy was quickly overwhelmed by the colorful serpent and the spiritual Guerrero (warrior) Jimmy at its lead.  




We arrived at the end of the parade exhausted, covered in sweat and paint and talc and dirt, and elated from it all.  Jaime had told us that the serpent, which was made painstakingly, by hand, with the help of many people both Colombian and foreign, was a symbol of unification through diversity.  Certainly, the multicultural, multinational, multiaged, and multiethnic group guiding the serpent was an appropriate representation.  Attending Carnival would have been an experience to remember, but being a part of it while assisting our friend to spread a message of peace and collaboration made it the experience of a lifetime.

the next day we worked with Valentina and her partner Joao to make a stop-motion video celebrating the snake. Wiggling our bodies in unison and eventually plunging into the refreshing Carribean