Nuestros Guías en el Camino

The passage from Mocoa through the temporarily-lifted blockade was all we could ask for: uneventful.  We managed to reach Bogotá, where we caught a flight to Barranquilla.  Upon arrival, we spent a night in the cheapest, dingiest motel yet (in existence?) – including complimentary contraceptives, a speaker installed in the wall above the bed to cover whatever ‘noise’ guests make, and a television with only one channel, flipped on as we were led into the room by the creepy desk man who gave Claire a disturbing smile as the moans and groans came on at full blast (it, ahh… wasn’t the news). 

                                                                                                          

Reunited in Jimmy's house with Alba and a big fish!

The next day we bused to Santa Marta, and within a few hours we found our old friend Jimmy (who readers may remember from our previous adventures at La Fruta and Carnaval).  Jimmy welcomed us with hugs, smiles, and excitement, and we saw his house in Taganga for the first time.  Taganga is an area held very sacred to the Tayrona people, with a beautiful blue bay surrounded by desert mountains.  Jimmy’s house is a unique, round building whose base is stone and which climbs into concrete with creatively crafted, barred windows and an open pavilion below the roof which overlooks the sea, Jimmy’s home (which he built in stages, by-hand over the course of years) well-reflects his artistic flare.  Inside are a kitchenette and two beds, hammocks, and many paintings, mosaics, and mobiles contributed by travelers who have passed through. 

After a night of joyous reminiscing and fresh fish at Jimmy’s, we were off to La Fruta.  It was exciting to get on the bus in Santa Marta again and head back to the place we had begun our adventure nearly one year ago.  We arrived at Quebrada Valencia and began our walk along the river.  On the way, we met many of the same vendors who had been on the path six months before, and we were greeted with warmth and smiles by those who remembered us.  It was a welcoming feeling to stop and chat for a bit - recollecting, hearing news, sharing stories.

The store with mural art by Valentina.

We passed the store-front which we had blessed months before by spending a night dancing around the fire with the Mamo.  Now it was inhabited by a friend of Santiago’s, who had made the inside a lovely home.  She stays there and sells her artisanal goods to passers-by, as well as the goods produces by La Fruta.  After a brief rest there, walking the grounds and remembering the lessons, we crossed the river a last time and began climbing to La Fruta.

With all the beauty we’d been blessed to share over the last 11 months, I’d nearly forgotten how beautiful the climb through the jungle, with alternating views of the river below, and the sea in the distance, really was.  We arrived at La Fruta out of breath but full of joy.  The lower house, where many of our friends had spent their nights, had been picked up and blown away by the wind with Javier inside (he wasn’t hurt).  It was replaced with a new house made in the traditional Kogui style – that is, with locally obtained organic material- full trees as vertical supports for a roof of smaller trees, lashed together and thatched with grass.  Inside, the musicians had brought up the mountain several electric guitars, a base, an amplifier, and other musical equipment I didn’t know.  Santa Sama (Santiago and Yerit) were no longer acoustic.

Sama Santa- photo courtesy of Javier

We walked past this house and entered the kitchen area, where we found Santiago, Yerit, and Deborah –full of smiles and love.  We hugged and everyone rejoiced. These three were now the family at La Fruta., and we spent hours re-counting the events of the past six months.  Lots had happened. 

It seems that after we left, the paramilitary presence became much stronger, and skirmishes broke out near La Fruta.  This had forced most families to leave their farms, although Santi and Yerit had conveniently been in Bogotá at the time.  Our good friends Helmi and Carol, the Austrian couple who had taught us so much about inner-peace and love, had returned temporarily to Europe.  However, there had been tension between Helmi and Santi about the project at La Fruta, and Helmi had decided to go his own way.  This was sad news indeed, but we were reassured that Helmi had left on good terms with Santi, and the two seemed without anger and resolved with one another.

The Renaissance man, the artisan, can make

something from anything. Also, the man is 53!

Jimmy, a guide on our path.

In the meantime, Santiago and Deborah were very much in love, and continued their lives at La Fruta.  They were married in a Hare Krishna ceremony during the visit of Maharaji, and their love continued to bless them: Deborah was pregnant with a baby girl.  We were so thrilled and excited to hear that such a beautiful couple would be bringing new life into the world.  Yerit was as he always is, a living example of Zen and inner-peace, always smiling and positive.  It was so wonderful to be back with our friends.

Deborah, (baby) and dog Lua.

We spent a week at La Fruta with Santi, Yerit, Jimmy, Deborah and a visiting friend named Alba.  It was a wonderful, relaxed time.  I got back to my love of collecting and peeling coconuts, reconnected with Yerit through work of hauling lumber through the jungle, and hauled and chopped firewood.  I couldn’t have asked for more.  Claire cooked and cleaned, enjoyed the company, and spread her joyful energy around the place.  We took an afternoon to plant the ayahuasca seed given to us from Taita in Mocoa, that the vine spirit may bring love and wisdom to new places. The pool had been completed, and there was hydraulic energy being produced – although the amps were insufficiently low for a concert, it was still moving along.  Santiago explained the whole system, and I learned a lot from his explanation and observation.

Santiago, stylish even while working in the jungle.

There were other lessons as well.  I saw that some of the projects I had worked on still remained, useful and in-tact.  However, I also noted that many (let’s be honest, most) of the projects had either failed, rotted, or been replaced as the larger plan of La Fruta moved along.  I was humbled once again by the acceptance and patience I received from Santiago, who had not turned me away during our time together for my arrogance and ego in thinking I knew better than he (or that I knew at all).  We spoke of this and many other things, and being the wonderful person he is, he spoke only kind words to me – happy that I had learned, full of assurance that the lessons and friendship were worth the trials. 

During the evening we would listen to the performances of Yerit and Santi, powered by a gasoline generator and the skills, talent, and emotion of these two musicians.  We heard and remembered the old songs, and new ones too, as we were drawn into the music.

Yerit- photo courtesy of Joao

Claire and I spent the nights together, recounting our times and sharing thanks for how blessed we were to learn in this place, return to it, and taste again the fruits of La Fruta.  The week flew by, and we left with blessings and love, and the knowledge that sometime, sooner or later, near or far, in this realm or another, we would see these beautiful souls again.  After a brief few days at Jimmy’s, where we helped him in the construction of another house he is building to house travelers and artisans (in coordination with La Fruta), we traveled with him to Barranquilla to meet his son Valentin – a bright, shining youth eager to practice his English and relate with us about traveling the world and the United States. 

Jorge is hoping to make his way to Ecuador to work with

another project reinvigorating interest in ancient seed.

Then we took our leave, and flew to Medellin.  We had one night there, and then we would head back to the United States.  With late notice, our dear friends Jaime and Jorge managed to meet us in the city.  They picked us up, and with hugs and smiles we once again rejoiced with old friends.  We traveled to the apartment of a mutual friend, Guillermo, where we found Marcela (Jaime’s wife), and ate a wonderful dinner, talked and remembered.  The connection with these friends is so strong it defies words – Jaime and Marcela both have the habit of not being the one to break a hug, so Claire and I were determined to do the same.  This lead to some of the longest and deepest hugs I’ve ever experienced, but with so much love and an atmosphere free of judgment, there were no awkward moments.  There were, however, serious issues to discuss.

After we left, the project at La Cienaga had gained increased attention.  The students at the local school took interest, and with the help of the young and charismatic leader Ehider, the project was gaining momentum among the youth in the area.  Suddenly, ‘paramilitaries’ arrived and occupied uninhabited houses in the community.  They carried guns, malice, and threats for Jorge and Ehider.  “Get out, stop the project.” The threat came down hardest on Ehider, who was slandered – word spread of his being a drug dealer, a criminal, a delinquent – and then the death threats began. Jorge, who happened to be in the city at the time, knew he couldn’t return.  

Jaime, whose roots and family live in la Cienaga, is fighting

the paramilitary and mines with love, faith and patience.

For Ehider, the threats probed deeper – he would have to leave his home, his family, his project, his future, in order to keep his life.  The ‘paramilitaries’, we learned, were likely thugs hired covertly by the mining operation in the area – you see, the mine has rights to explore and exploit the land of La Cienaga (and many surrounding communities), and what they don’t want is a thriving project, making their ‘job’ of dispossessing people of their land harder and more public.

Send your strength and love to Ehider.

This type of thing is normal in many places of the world.  It happens in our own country as well.  Few motives drive as hard or ruthlessly as profit.  The sadness and injustice brought about by such soullessness is not new or unique.  Still, that Ehider has had to leave his home and this project is a tragedy.  That people could coordinate, conspire, and collude to stomp out this bright light of hope breaks my heart.  I can hardly empathize with how much harder it breaks his.

We sat together, holding hands, fighting back tears of fear and sadness, praying for Ehider’s safety, for his future, for his light.  Praying for this world and the people that inhabit it.  Praying for the love – the only chance we’ve got left.  And after these intense moments of trepidation and heartache, we returned to the love and joy, and continued enjoying the evening with more fervor, as if to compensate for the loss and overpower it.

As we headed back to the airport late in the evening, I realized that of all the lessons that we had learned on this trip, this was perhaps the most poignant and important.  The lives of those we encountered were seldom glamorous and never easy, but these people shared with us like family and laughed and loved as hard as they could.  There is no hiding from the darkness and evil in this world – even those who are full of light have shadows cast upon them.  But those who bring hope for a better tomorrow, for a greater purpose, for love and unity and humility in this world, those are the people who shine through the difficulties, who forgive the betrayals, and who keep hope and love in their hearts.  These are the people we have been blessed to encounter in this ‘camino verdadero’, those who will never leave us, who have become a part of us, and who have taught us that connection with ourselves, with each other, and with this earth will bring love to our hearts and light to our souls.

We leave humbled, and grateful to those who have shared.

Full of love, light, and thanks.