This Time In Colombia: Part II: Silvia

(I realize that I haven't finished writing about our last trip to Colombia, with daughter and her family. I will get back  to it, eventually)

This time in Colombia, it was much about showing Hanski around and getting a bit out of the city. While Cali is still my "love city" in many ways, the rising temperatures and the traffic chaos have made it less attractive and of course, we, the greywings, living up in the vicinity of the Polar Circle  have grown accustomed to lower temperatures and refreshing breeze. The bottom line is that Cali is not the same place where I landed first time 46 years before and I'm not 22 any longer.

Hanski hates to travel. He doesn't mind short trips in a car and driving is not a problem. We drive up to Haparanda, in Swedish Lapland to visit his sister once a year, he drives most of the time, no problem at all, in spite of the long haul, 10 hours or more in the car, with two or three short breaks. But to get him in an airplane is another story....

He says traveling for him only makes sense to go to visit, to see people he cares about, not for anything else. Scenery, foreign people, culture, those things he can see on TV. It's quite frustrating for me, who loves everything new,  the trip, the road itself, the changing landscapes, different cultures, people, the mountains and the sea, the music, the smells and sounds and tastes of a new place...

This was to be a combined get-together-with-my-peeps and exploring a new horizon for Hanski journey to my past but not into his future ...or mine.

Originally, I had planned to take him to Coffee Theme Park in Armenia, but my niece Ana and her Italian husband Marco backed out of this plan; they had been there before and their money was running low. It became a day trip to Silvia, to see the guambianos and enjoy the cool climate up in the Cauca mountains.

I had a lot of nice memories about driving up to Silvia with my in-laws, with my husband and children when they were small, with our friends, Hugo and Marlene and their boys. It had always been one of my favorite spots ("my strawberry patch"  as they say in Swedish) and it had been out of reach for 20 years now due to guerrilla activity in the central cordillera and Cauca valley, with excursions to the Panamerican Highway which runs through the Valley and is the only way of reaching this indigenous town and settlement in its high valley of 2600 meters above sea leavel.

So, I gave our old friends and transport providers Alex and Diana a call. Yes, they were available to take us up there and wanted to go themselves too.

Alex drove the van, with Diana up front, Hanski and me in the front row, Juan Manuel, Ana Cecilia and Marco in the back. We stopped somewhere (Santander de Quilichao?) for a cup of coffee and rest room visit.
This wa also when we saw a huge dead hog being transported in the back of motor bike. The driver could not figure out why we were taking pictures of him and his hog....crazy tourists.

 The small towns south of Cali hadn't changed a lot. The only difference now was heavy military presence on the road, especially when crossing The Cauca River, driving into Cauca Province and at the entrance and exit of villages and towns. Young country boys with wide grins and big guns on their shoulders gave us thumbs up for road safety further ahead, we acknowledged the gesture by giving them thumbs up as well.

The Panamerican highway is well-maintained and broader than what I remembered and sugarcane grows still, but some lowlands had wetmarks and ponds and we were wondering if rice was grown in the flooded fields.

After Mondomo and getting closer to Piendamó where the road to Silvia separates from Panamaerican Highway that runs on towards Popayán, Pasto and the Ecuadorian border the mountains started getting nearer and the terrain started rising. Piendamó is already a bit hilly and the way to Silvia was not easy to find; we had to stop and ask several times. The town was a chaos, with markets on the streets, road work and crowsa of country people swarming around; short, stocky paeces most of them; this is the country where Clelia, my in-laws lifetime housekeeper was born and was sent as a very young girl to work as a maid in Cali.. 

After Piendamó we hit the hills, seriously. The road was still in good condition, paved all the way and even if there were some places where there had been recent landslides and erosion, the most dangerous spots had some protection against falling rocks and mud in form of built barriers. We started to get glimpses of those fantastic hillside farms and cattle that we couldn't figure out: did the cows have shorter legs on one side or how dis they keep their balance on the steep mountainside pastures? There was little traffic and the day was clear, leaving the roadside gorges and chasms in full view and climbing over the mountain pass we saw the town of the Guambiano people in its high valley at the altitude of 2640 meters above sea level. 

The narrow road is paved and well-maintained. It hugs closely to the mountainside and at places with an overhang that looks menacing. With heavy rains there are frequent mudslides and road erosion. Now, it had been some recent rain, but the last three months had been predominantly dry.

At this point, it feels like you have left the dust and the heat of Cali far, far behind. It's another world up here. The breeze is cool, even daytime and the air has this invigorating  fragrance that is a blend of wild mountain herbs and the heady scent of eucalyptus

The Guambiano people have their settlements in this area and since the new constitution was signed they have a certain amount of autonomy in their resguardo and in Silvia. The mayor of Silvia is always a guambiano and they have three permanent seats in the Congress.

"Guambiano or Misak are an indigenous people of the department of Cauca in Colombia.^[1][2] Their language is also known as Guambiano or as one of the Coconucan languages. The majority lives in the western part of the Colombian Andes range (Cordillera). Some people can be also found in Huila Department.
The Misak society is mainly patriarchal and agriculture is the base of their economy. Coffee, cassava, potatoes, beans, cabbage among are the main products cultivated by them.
The Guambiano/ Misak people are known for their traditional clothing: blue scarf (worn as a sarong, rectangular ponchos and hat for the men; black skirt, solid color top, blue scarf and hat for the women."

"Cultura

Para los misak, la tierra es la Madre. La base de su economía es la agricultura Sus principales cultivos son maíz, papa, café, ulluco, frijol, repollo y habas.
Su autoridad principal es el Cabildo Mayor de Guambía, en Silvia. Los grupos domésticos patrilocales son la base de la organización social. Practican la endogamia étnica y la exogamia veredal (de la comuidad local).
Su pensamiento es dual, basado en oposiciones como sol-luna, masculino-femenino. El mөrөpik es el curandero guambiano, es escogido entre niños con disposición y educado para intermediar con los espíritus. Realiza la ceremonia de limpieza llamada pishimarөp.
El traje tradicional del hombre es una falda corta azul que envuelven alrededor de la cintura, dos ruanas rectangulares y sombrero. Las mujeres llevan falda negra, blusa de un sólo color y pañolón azul de lana.

Lengua

Hablan su propia lengua, el wampi-misamerawan o wam, que está estrechamente relacionada con las lenguas Totoró (hablada en el municipio de tal nombre) y Kokonuco (extinta) y ha sido clasificada dentro de la familia de lenguas barbacoanas. Tiene cinco fonemas vocálicos y 17 consonánticos, entre los cuales se destacan como peculiaridad, las consonantes retroflejas.
" from Wikipedia.

As this was not a market day there were not so many tribal people in town. We drove ahead, later on, towards the their settlement in Pueblito, but turned back at the trout fishing facilities, because the road was in bad condition and I felt sorry for Alex and Diana and didn't want to to wreck their van.
On a typical market day, the town is crowded with guambianos in their traditional garb, selling their wares, produce and woven items. They raise sheep and make ponchos, bags,garments from the wool. We went into several shops around the main square and were told to watch out for the Otavalos from Ecuador disguising as guambians. A friendly lady showed us the weaving technique they use.

After selling their merchandise the women visit friends or relatives and then return to the settlements, on foot or sometimes on bikes. The men stay a while longer, buy some aguardiente and commune with their ancestors until they fall asleep on the park benches on the main square, sometimes three or four sleeping guambiano men to a bench. It doesn't take a lot of firewater to make them fall asleep, as they have a very low tolerance for alcohol.
They send their children to study in universities and schools in the provincial capital, Popayan, less than 50 km. away and after they graduate they are expected to return to serve the community.  As guambianos practice endogamy (they marry only other guambianos, but not from the same settlement or village) the 20 000 people strong community has maintained a unique homogenuity and has mixed with the predominantly Paez people of the Cauca Province only nominally.

The main square had changed somewhat: the old eucalyptus trees had been cut down and only a few were left standing. There were more colors, more paint, more benches for the old men to sit and drink their aguardiente but the main attraction was still the occasional tribespeople in their colourful clothes. We went into the church and since it was Holy Week the statues that make up the 12 pasos of the via dolorosa were exihibited inside: people went in and out all the time, young indigenous mother was explaining the passion of Christ to her young children; made me wonder how deep their catholicism really runs or how they combine the old and the new religion, the worship of Mother Earth (Mama Pacha) and the teachings of the Catholic Church. They seemed to be devoutedly both or perhaps it's just a veneer.

 Taking a break. Breathing the cool mountain air.

 Inside the church admiring the 12 pasos that later on that week were to be carried on the streets in a traditional procession.

After a visit to the hotel and a lunch we spent time by the river. This is where we used to picnic with our kids and friends, walk along and enjoy the greenery and bathe our feet and hands in the icy cold water of the Piendamó River. There was a guambian fishing and Hanski felt very tempted....there's trout in the stream. Later, we drove on towards the settlements (resguardo) but stopped half the way at a trout fishing facilitiy to watch peole, several of them guambians, fishing from the pond and here I also found a young woman selling trinkets; she also had the tiny bead bracelets to protect new-born babies from the Evil Eye. The bracelets had been "closed" with prayers and charged with protection. I bought two, similar bracelets for my friend Anne's grandchildren that will be born in a few months: twin girls who will wear them as a symbol binding them the cultural heritage of their father's country.

My good friend, Arja Toivonen, lived and painted Guambians here back in mid seventies and she also integrated with the community and learned much about them, their lifestyle, culture, religion. I had no opportunity to visit her Guambian friends at this time as time was pressing and we wanted to return to the city before nightfall. She made two beautiful videos about these people (in addition to a great number of strikingly descriptive, hauntingly impressive primitivist paintings that she has exposed in Finland, Sweden, Colombia and Ecuador and which hang exhibited at her summer home in Central Finland.)

I don't know why they would call Silvia "The Switzerland of Colombia". It has a distinctive air of authencity and to me, it's perhaps not unique, but very distinctive in its mix of indigenous culture and breathtaking scenery.