Almost a year ago, while I was going through a difficult period filled with uncertainty and hopelessness, I decided to return home to Colombia for a few months—the place I love most. A friend of mine, Mariana, who was living in the forest of the Sierra Nevada, invited me to spend some time there.
I felt it would be a great opportunity to learn more about the Indigenous communities living in the mountains where Mariana was based. I have always felt especially curious to Indigenous women, their crafts, and their traditions. I packed what I could with the limited documentation resources I was able to finance at the time and arrived with no expectations, other than staying open to whatever the mountain might teach me.
Mariana and I initially planned an itinerary, but once I arrived, time and plans dissolved. I found myself immersed in a place that felt like a portal. We had no internet most of the time and were completely disconnected from the outside world. During that time, I met Lucía and her children, Cristina and Morochito, an Arhuaco woman living in the same reserve where I was staying. Lucía taught me her weaving practice, something passed down from her mother and rooted in the spiritual life of her community. We spent days weaving and talking, about life, motherhood, womanhood, and everyday things. She told me she had lived her entire life in the mountains and dreamed of living in the city, while I found myself longing for the opposite. I felt the need to document her life in that place: her home by the river, Cristina—her daughter, a magical girl with whom I played, drew, sang, and danced—and Morochito, the youngest, who loved being in the river.
I return to this story now, far from that place, once again seeking comfort while violence and hardship unfold in the land I love most.
The video was documented on Super 8, edited by my friend
@tiagoalmanca and includes drawings made by Cristina during my time there, along with Lucía’s voice in her Arhuaco language.
