Of paramos, cities and deserts - BWB Colombia
I travel to Colombia, a country so colorful, heart-stoppingly beautiful and dynamic, but still plagued by varying levels of instability and social injustice. Its coastline extends for miles, and its interior is a mosaic of cities, jungles, mountains, with a desert of striking red formations in its center. Its people are warm and welcoming.
This is my second trip to the country, I was here in 2020 just before the pandemic hit. This time I come back to get up close and personal with the Burners Without Borders (BWB) Colombia chapter and meet the faces behind the social initiatives being carried out by Burners in this country, including meeting a 12-year-old girl who reminds me of a Colombian Greta Thunberg, and a tireless activist whose project has distributed a staggering 90,000 kg of food in the streets of Medellin.
These initiatives show us the way, a glimpse into what the BWB movement could achieve if we were all inspired to action.
Arriving at the Paramos site
The drive from Bogota to the reforestation project in Chingaza Park is long, and the last stretch curves up the mountainside over pot-holed bumpy terrain. We are shaken about like ragdolls, but Oswaldo, who heads up BWB in Bogota, drives us steadily onward. We lose ourselves down narrow and sinuous paths, until the landscape finally opens, lush and emerald green. Way on high, three lakes hollow out the stately mountain, the tallest lying at a breathtaking elevation of 3,600m. These were chiseled into the landscape millennia ago by glaciers that split, leaving three deep craters filled with ice-cold water.
Each of these lakes has an ancestral story and is a sacred site, as one of the locals would later passionately explain. The first was visited by children, the second by women asking for fertility, the 3rd by caciques or chiefs and warriors. During their visits, the locals engaged in rituals, often drinking Chicha – an alcoholic drink – that allowed them to read parts of the mountains, and see cosmic patterns in the stars. Legend has it that they would bring offerings of solid gold figurines which blanketed the bottom of the lake. This gave rise to the El Dorado myth. When the Spanish colonialists arrived, they drained one of the lakes, only to find the figurines were filled with gold dust rather than being solid gold.
Rituals were also performed to honor special life-giving trees. I now stand amongst these trees that are threatened by mining, livestock farming and polluting agriculture, side by side with the people and project fighting to protect them. Ancestral Foundation (AF) is dedicated to the restoration and conservation of the páramos, 50% of which are found in Colombia. 70% of the Colombian population depends on water from the páramos, including more than 15 million people in and around Bogotá. AF has made it their mission to protect the páramos and local communities at high risk of displacement.
The AF team in action
The Nature Reserve stretches over 3 million hectares, housing unique ecosystems due to its elevation ranging from 800 to 4,000 metres. I am short of breath as we climb up to the farmhouse to meet the small team. They work to restore the land, planting native fraile trees that take decades to grow to full size. This is a long-term endeavor. The trees are covered in thick grey moss “a sign that the air here is pure,” says one of our guides. Amongst the volunteers is the niece of one of the organizers, a girl of 12 called Danna Valentina with thick-rimmed glasses and a way of carrying herself that shows wisdom beyond her years. I ask if I can interview her and without a second thought, she sits cross-legged in the grass and explains why preserving this landscape matters with a self-assurance that I definitely didn’t have at her age.
A Colombian Greta Thunberg
It is inspirational to see how the new generation are so committed to the environment, when the previous ones were too busy acquiring things that undermined it. With her long braids and conviction, she reminds me of a Colombian Greta Thunberg. Humans have a way of finding solutions to save our species, and this new generation may hold the key to help change the tide of the widescale damage we have inflicted on the planet. Though she lives in Bogota, she feels more at home in the páramos. Not your average teenager.
Back in the capital the city pulses with traffic. Reggaeton blares from the radio, with misogynist lyrics that tempt the youth with a very different lifestyle. After Bogota, I travel to a city that epitomizes fast living in Colombia - Medellin. Here a surprisingly high percentage of girls seem to have had plastic surgery to change their appearance, including exaggerated implants to achieve a Kardashian-style look. Aside from a gentrified area catering to tourists and the rising numbers of digital nomads, many areas are rundown. The youth here seem to have limited options and some end up living life on the streets, joining local gangs. Within this context I visit a project which offers another way.
Another route for youth in Medellin
Steve moved to Medellin in 2019. A few months later the pandemic hit. Walking through the streets he saw the magnitude of the problem. As the country went into lockdown, the gap between the have and have-nots increased exponentially. The people who relied on petty trade lost their income, worsening the homeless crisis. In this context, Steve has distributed a staggering total of 90,000 kg of food to those in need over the last two years. If you’ve ever been to Medellin, you will appreciate the magnitude of this task. The streets are run by gangs. And to distribute food, well you need to come to an agreement with those who run the streets. So that’s what he did. Given the desperate situation of the people, and after questioning his intentions as a foreigner, they eventually allowed him to carry out his work.
From his shared Medellin office, where he now runs coding classes for kids, he explains how Burning Man was a catalyst. His first Burn was miserable. He spent 3 weeks “in hell” building and taking down his camp. But when he left the playa, he realized how much it had changed his mindset. “Once you’ve been through endless blinding dust storms trying to get your tent not to blow away you can do anything. It strengthens your resolve.” Spurred on by the successful food distribution drive, he set his sights on longer-term projects in the community. BWB had a big impact on his decision. He presented his idea during a BWB summit, and suddenly had access to a huge network, including a BWB lawyer who helped him figure out how to structure the project, and avoid legal issues down the line. This provided the impetus he needed to eventually launch a charity, knowing he had a safety net to turn to for advice.
Steve didn’t apply for a BWB grant and fronted the cost himself. His energy seems limitless, and he was soon able to raise funds, reinvesting them into new initiatives, including mobile health clinics and micro-loans to traders. Another office room serves as a studio for local artists. Importantly, Steve is not the face of the organization but works through local partners to implement the projects, without which he is certain they would be doomed to failure. Local problems demand local solutions; there needs to be a radical rethink of the entire aid sector towards this realization.
A studio for local talent
While a small player, movements such as BWB offer alternatives to more rigid structures which don’t allow space for flexibility. Steve is not afraid of trial and error. Just as everything seemed to fall apart when building his camp at BRC, so it is in real life. This work demands resilience, a long-term approach and constant course correction. Suddenly, the kids interrupt our discussion to spin a giant wheel that Steve has set up in the office. A reminder that having fun is critical to learning.
Back in Bogota, I sip a local beer with Oswaldo and BWB cofounder Charlotte while we discuss the other projects beyond the reforestation initiative. Oswaldo is also a prolific social activist who rarely seems to rest. When I arrive, he is being photographed and interviewed by a local newspaper in full Burn regalia. Despite my initial protests, I am pulled in to join the photoshoot. BWB Bogota runs two other projects, one to protect bees called Bee Safe, and another called Ikigai Explorers. Ikigai helps children from low-income families who have dropped out of school to find their purpose in life. Beyond practical skills in areas such as electrical engineering, recycling or photography, it seeks to instill positive values in the children, redefine their relationship to authority and wider community that take part.
Oswaldo shares how his time at BRC - he has attended 8 editions – was a gamechanger. He explains in Spanish: “experiencing a sort of utopia where everyone collaborates and supports each other changed my life [it was] so different to society in Colombia.” Back home, he got to work applying the lessons to the local context, securing BWB grants to launch Bee Safe and Ikigai. Unlike Oswaldo, one of the AF collaborators Andrea has never been to a Burn event. But in many ways her work upholds Burner values, arguably more so than someone who has been to an event but hasn’t internalized the learnings and given back once outside.
Being a Burner doesn’t have to mean going to Burning Man. It is about actively looking for new ways and models to change society. The Regional network around the world, including urban and “micro-burns” has expanded the community outwards. It has allowed more people to practice collective living, away from the capitalist paradigm that governs society. The scale and essence of these events remind us that Burning Man is not about a giant playground filled with towering art, it is about people. BWB provides another entry point, supporting community-led social work, and spurring people from all walks of life like Andrea, Danna Valentina, Oswaldo and Steve into action.
The jaw dropping Tatacoa Desert - a Tatacoa Burn in the making?
Mid-way through my journey, I travel to the Tatacoa Desert - which would later become the perfect site for the first Regional Burn event in Colombia. I observe the winding valley of majestic red formations that jut out of the scorched earth like an army of stately, crimson-colored warriors. This desert was once entirely underwater. Sometimes we need to let the water subside to realize the magnitude of what lies beneath, to understand what we are capable of. Something tells me the work I have seen here is just the tip of the iceberg of what can be achieved, both in Colombia and beyond, when we are called to action.