II.III.IIII – Tairona
II.III.IIII
TAIRONA
Somehow, against all odds, I woke up feeling better than ever. We got up, shook off our boots in case of spiders and scorpions (because apparently these things happen), and headed out before dawn in order to get a head start on what was to be the most challenging of days.
We trekked along the riverside of the Buritaca river, following narrow paths that were shared by the natives and their mules. “MULAS!” we’d have to yell repeatedly, making way for them to pass. The sceneries seemed to get only much more unreal the more we went on; waterfalls, mountain views and all the like gracing our sight. “Who would’ve thought I’d ever get to see such wonderful landscapes?” I’d think to myself over and over.
I felt so profoundly lucky to be able to experience such an adventure, and, pretty soon we’d be at the lost city – the only thing that kept me from giving up in the most trying of times. Perhaps I’m being a tad over-dramatic, but I had truly never experienced something as physically demanding up until then . All the while, I kept telling the others to imagine finally getting to our destination only to find a sign reading “CLOSED”. Would’ve been just my luck!
The second day kept us entertained all throughout. It wasn’t just the views though – a certain kinship had already started to form between the group, as if we had known each other for years.
Whilst Hareth would be my companion on most occasions, I did get to bond with a few others as well. Wai; a Chinese girl who’d make it a point to emphasise the fact that she’s probably the only Asian who sweats and attracts mosquitoes. Sascha; a German med student with whom I bonded over our mutual love for medicine, who was practically dragged there by her sister Aniek. Hugo who told me all about his years as a guide and how relatively popular this trek had become over the previous few years. In these shift-like arrangements, we all got to know each other a bit more – mostly when they’d fall behind and reach me at the very back.
By noon we reached Mutanshi; a picturesque indigenous village full of palm-thatched huts which the Kogi tribe inhabit. Whilst we didn’t have much time to spend there, we were given a brief tour of the surroundings, with Hugo telling us that the coca plants surrounding the huts are used by the locals to help them gain stamina, fight altitude sickness and even achieve other effects (wink, wink). Overwhelmed by curiosity, I snatched a couple of leaves to munch on. And that’s when I got so high I had to be taken down the mountain by helicopter. Okay, that’s not true. I noticed no change whatsoever.
Here, we also got to mingle a bit with a few Tairona families, their kids stealing our hearts. They were tremendously playful, even the shy ones. We were told not to take any photos of them as they believed a part of their soul remains trapped in said photo. However, if you give them candy, they’ll be more than happy to oblige – souls be damned!
Moving onward we passed through deep valleys and climbed up excruciatingly steep hills, the vegetation growing ever so denser. On and on we went, my feet finally giving in to my small boots, blistering in all sorts of places I never thought possible. But we kept going. We chatted, laughed and sang. We struggled and persevered. And we also got to try everything the jungle had to offer that was safe by Hugo’s standards; from the overly sour star fruit to the sweet-tasting cocoa fruit.
Somehow, we reached the next campsite; Paraiso Teyuna. This one was surrounded by waterfalls on every side, being located exactly next to the river. The first thing we did as soon as we dropped off our bags was jump into it without a second’s hesitation.
I remember it being the coldest thing to ever have touched my skin, although back then it was the only thing I ever wanted or needed. I could feel all my awes and aches ebb away, all the sweat and dirt washed clean off my body. It was “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” river version. All refreshed and reinvigorated, we spent an hour or so lying on a huge rock in the middle of the river, occasionally jumping back into the water for another jolt of energy. There was also this puny cave with no particularly interesting feature on the other side of the river which we had to swim for our lives in order to access. Good times, good times.
After, we had dinner – some grilled fish with patacones (fried plantains), and yuca (a starchy root very similar in taste to potatoes). Then we were given a tea infused with coca leaves, which, again, left absolutely no effect whatsoever. Everyone felt calm and relaxed and chill and “right on dude” but you know, a day of hard physical activity followed by an afternoon of unwinding does that.
And then came the pièce de résistance of the day. One of the Mamos; a spiritual leader of the Wiwa tribe, visited us and filled us in on life at the Sierra Nevada mountains. He told us that there were four tribes; the Kogis, the Arhuacos, the Kankuamos and finally, his own – the Wiwas. These 30,000 natives are direct descendants of the ancient Tairona people who inhabited the Sierra Nevada before being invaded by the Spanish. These Taironas were a great civilisation known for their skilful gold work and architecture.
He explained that in their quest to be one with nature, coca leaves play a central role. Men of the tribe carry with them a hollowed-out gourd, given to them once they come of age. This is called a ‘poporo’ and in it they place seashells which they continuously crush using a stick. The paste that forms is then transferred to their mouths, whereby the alkaline shells react with the coca leaves, releasing the active ingredient. Maybe that’s what I needed after all, huh? Any remaining seashell paste is then rubbed on the neck of the poporo, thickening the gourd over time. Thereafter, they can present their poporo to their Mamo who can then interpret their lives according to the rings formed. Nifty, no?
He said they call themselves our ‘older brothers’; believing their wisdom surpasses that of ours; their ‘younger brothers’. While one would instinctively tell them to get off their high mule, I could tell that his words were not judgmental in the least.
They believe that it is in their hands to restore balance to the universe, that in our modern lives we have forsaken the importance of being one with nature, enrapt with all the commodities we’ve grown used to. To them, all the world’s evils are a direct result of human failure, and while this might sound like a load of hippy BS, it really did resonate with me. This is why I had come here. This is why I had felt the need to abandon all comfort and seek refuge in a world yet unknown to me. I needed to find myself once again, and all his words seemed to hit all the right notes.
I got a warm and fuzzy feeling every time he kept on calling us their younger brothers; it was endearing not condescending, knowing there’s someone out there who’s always looking out for us. With a final remark to never lose touch with our inner selves and the environment, he left us pondering.