A Colombian African Dream

by Tenishia Daniel (United States of America)

Making a local connection Colombia

Every day we enjoy conveniences that we take for granted without the slightest thought. Cell phones keep us connected to everyone and everything. We mindlessly flip through TV channels, no longer intrigued by the hard work that it takes to produce even just one show. We have grocery stores where we buy food that is prepackaged and easily accessible. Even something as simple as having indoor plumbing is something we rarely, if ever, think about unless you’re camping. Have you ever thought about what you would do if you had to start from scratch? Not just a new job or home. What would you do if you were placed in a new country of which you didn’t even know the name? If you don’t speak the language, you don’t have family or friends, and was forced to give up everything you know where would you start? How would you survive? I was fortunate enough to secure a last-minute trip to travel to a village named San Basilio de Palenque, built by people in those exact circumstances. Palenque was founded by runaway slaves. In order to communicate with each other to escape, they made up their own language from a combination of the languages from their former countries. Once they realized that they were in a foreign place with no way to get back home, they made their new home in the high hills of northern Colombia. As I sit on the tour bus for the hour and a half ride from Cartagena, I think about how people made this same trek by foot, being chased through land they had never seen before, guided only by secret maps and word of mouth. I thought about how terrified they must have been but also, how incredibly brave and resilient they were. We are greeted by a member of the village whose words are translated by our guide. As we walk through the unpaved roads of the village, I eagerly take in the sights and sounds around me. The colorful portraits on the walls throughout the community, dogs languishing outside before heading into the small huts for shade, children laughing and playing, women singing while pummeling corn rhythmically to make corn meal, and men slowly riding by on small lean horses. We come to an abrupt halt as the hogs and chicken cross freely in the road ahead of us. At the dance school the children, glistening with sweat dance energetically. Their feet moving at a blurry pace to the beat of the drums as they invite us with big smiles to dance with them. In comparison to our lives filled with technology and convenience, one might think that they live a hard life. However, in many ways they are wealthier. They live a simple life, eating food that they have grown or animals that they have raised. So, no worries about hormones or chemicals. They rarely exchange money in the village. Instead, they barter goods amongst each other. There is no crime and no police authority. Instead, the community brings their grievances to the elders to settle. They use traditional medicine instead of modern medicine and yet, their average life span is 100 years for women and 95 years for men. The villagers walk by looking at us just as curiously as we looked at them. I wonder how they feel about us coming to see their way of life. Do they see us as an annoyance, a brief intrusion in their day or do they understand that we've come with respect for what their ancestors managed to build on their own? Do they realize that many of us are wondering about our own ancestor's history and wish we had that same connection? You can feel their sense of community and family in a way that we, for all of our ways of staying connected, seems to have lost. I am left thinking of their saying that in their quest to recreate their African home in the Americas, “We don’t live the American dream, we live the African dream.” I believe that their ancestors would be proud of the way that they continue to preserve their history and way of life.