La Chorrera in Colombia’s Amazon: Bloody past, insecure present

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@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

There is a view in certain circles that Indigenous peoples in isolated areas live a largely wholesome and simple life, at one with nature, in stark contrast to us folk in more digitally connected, fast-paced societies — a version of the noble savage idea.

Isolated reserve: There are no roads into La Chorrera but the airline Satena flies there. Arriving by river is also an option, but a complicated one.

This is true in some instances and areas. There are still tribes in existence that continue to shun Western civilisation.

Yet, many indigenous, even those who still live on their native lands far away from the original centres of colonisation of the country in which they now find themselves, have adopted high-income-nation habits — be that for better or for worse.

This is the case for most of those who identify as indigenous that I’ve encountered in South America.

One might think that the situation would be rather different on a secluded indigenous reserve, an area where the original natives — Who is an original native? — are left to live relatively autonomously from the intruding state.

Green gold

Both the settlement and area of La Chorrera, which the locals call the true heart of the Amazon, is one such reserve.

In terms of its autonomy from Colombia, well there is no state police presence. Filling that void, nominally in any case, is the indigenous guard. The Colombian military does have a base nearby but the soldiers rarely get involved in local affairs even if, at times, their intervention might be welcome.

The people have their own executive committee for internal affairs, with a president, vice president, and certain ministerial/secretarial posts.

As for agricultural self-sufficiency, the Igara Paraná River that flows through the region provides fish, as well as a plentiful supply of water. Most homesteads also have their own poultry, the odd few farm pigs while the ever-retreating wild animals in the surrounding jungle are occasionally hunted, with el blanco (whiteman) guns, of course.

‘An elder told me that a commander in a nearby guerrilla group is planning a social cleansing of the area and has a list of those who are considered a burden.’

Root vegetables such as cassava (yuca) and yam (ñame) are staples, alongside plantain and a host of tropical fruits.

The tobacco plant, too, plays a big part in the culture, chiefly in the form of a paste called ambil, almost exclusively taken by men.

Ambil is often consumed alongside the region’s green gold, or what some in other parts of Colombia convert into white gold, the coca leaf.

In La Chorrera, coca is ground down — together with a palm tree leaf to soften the bitterness — to a fine powder and consumed in the mouth. The idea is to slowly transform the powder — which has a powdered-milk texture — into a paste in the mouth before ingesting it gradually. This pick-me-upper coca powder is called mambe and its consumption is again a male preserve.

Coca leaves that aren’t destined for mambe are sold, currently at 100,000 COP per kilo, to outsiders who, one assumes, use them to make cocaine.

From what I observed and what I was told, cocaine isn’t at all popular in the area.

Beer necessities

Yet, what I’ve been told is growing in popularity — but not grown locally — is marijuana use among the community’s younger folk. Elders say this has led to an increase in insecurity.

I did occasionally smell it and noticed some young men a little stoned but I can’t say that I felt that unsafe in the settlement, despite warnings from some to keep my wits about me when wandering about. (This is in stark contrast to supposedly dangerous, more easily accessible towns such as Puerto Asís and San José del Guaviare, where inhabitants are quick to talk about how safe they are. Yes, people there could have been trying to lure me into a false sense of security but I never sensed anything untoward — and nothing untoward happened.)

One La Chorrera elder even told me that a commander in a nearby guerrilla group is planning a social cleansing of the area and already has a list of those who are considered a burden. How true that is, I guess time will tell.

Home comforts: One of the over 100 houses the Colombian government is building and gifting to La Chorrera.

The main annoyance I encountered was those who like a beer or six — beer being another product very much not of the region. Some boozers weren’t shy about asking — in an aggressive tone at times — el blanco to finance their drinking. (At between 5,000 and 8,000 COP for a 330 ml can of Poker, it’s around four times more than what I pay for beer in my preferred watering holes in Bogotá.)

The various winged pests of this jungle outpost were less of a nuisance than these opportunist extortionists.

I had thought that being Irish and, with it, the link to Roger Casement and his efforts in alerting Western powers of the terrible rubber-era genocide of the Indigenous that took place in the region in the early twentieth century might have cut me some slack — I’m not just another blanco. But no. In fairness, most did start referring to me somewhat more affectionately as el irlandés once they got to know me. It’s the Peruvians and the British establishment these beer-seekers should be pestering, not me. (See my 2016 post, Remembering Casement’s Colombian connection for background.)

‘The chuck-it-anywhere approach goes against the narrative that care and respect for the natural environment is one of their chief concerns.’

Now, while I wasn’t there long enough to draw any solid conclusions, it did appear to me that it was the men from the more square-faced Uitoto (or Huitoto) tribe who were the annoying drinkers while the rounder-faced Boras seemed far more benign. More research is required. (For the record, the greater La Chorrera area is composed, in the main, of four traditional tribes: the aforementioned Bora and Uitoto, together with the Muinane and Okaina.)

Virtual autonomy

Mentioning tribes might bring one back to this idea of scantily clad Amazon natives. The reserve may like to see and even sell itself as autonomous but the clothing — like the beer, many food items, internet plus free WiFi from the national government, smartphones, televisions, motorbikes, and even the timber for new state-gifted houses — very much comes from outside. Football shirts are particularly popular for the men, as is football in general for all. Indeed, football brings the community together more regularly than any traditional event.

Even at a traditional dance that I had the serendipitous pleasure of attending in the Santa Rosa settlement, a four-hour boat ride upriver from La Chorrera, there was nothing native about the attire. For sure, the dance and refreshments were traditional but the look was more Bogotá barrio than Amazon jungle.

Considering the dance came at the end of a two-day football tournament, let’s not be too critical of the lack of effort on the dress front. And respect to the attendees from Puerto Sabalo in the Caquetá department. Theirs was a two-day journey, mixing boat travel with long walks. Despite such endeavours, or perhaps because of them, they won the men’s tournament.

Less respect is forthcoming for many locals’ rubbish disposal. The chuck-it-anywhere approach goes against the narrative that care and respect for the natural environment is one of their chief concerns. The same goes for the practice of bathing and cleaning clothes in the river with modern soaps and detergents.

This isn’t me having a go at them. I’m in no way suggesting that they must return to a more primitive life. (Although this is something I often think I’d like to do, I don’t think there are many in La Chorrera who want it.)

It’s more a case that it bugs me when some people from afar put such indigenous types on a pedestal, as role models for us modern monsters to follow. Also at play is the mildly aggressive this-is-our-land attitude of a small number of La Chorrera natives.

As pointed out, it’s not a truly autonomous indigenous reserve. The sane-headed locals are well aware of this and are very welcoming of unobtrusive visitors*. And, as it currently operates, it’s unlikely La Chorrera will survive as a functioning entity without attracting the right kind of outside assistance.

Those who want all the whiteman goodies but then act as if outsiders aren’t welcome or are merely to be taken advantage of, let’s see how they’d do living completely autonomously.

Remember guys, you won’t be able to beer or Google your way out of it.

*There are various accommodation options in La Chorrera. Hospedaje Fátima, owned by a lovely elder — abuela as they say — of the same name (Fátima, that is!), is one of the better options. It’s 25,000 COP per night for a humble en suite room with WiFi as good as you’ll get anywhere. Plus, Fátima is niceness personified!

**A special mention, too, to Marina and her mother Irene who operate as a restaurant/snack food joint. Well worth checking out. Also, Jorge who runs the tienda by the main dock is a very helpful gentleman and a member of the executive committee. I mention these because they run businesses in the settlement but there are other friendly locals who are only too willing to help for no ulterior motive.
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