Absences IV

When I am

in the mountains

the sea exists

and it is with me.

Alfredo Mires

In: Como acostarse indeciso y despertar a arriesgarse

(How to go to bed undecided and wake up to take a risk)

In the house of the hummingbird

After many years, I was finally able to come here for a few weeks: to Cajamarca, to the wonderful project of Bibliotecas Rurales. And it feels a bit like always and at the same time completely different. The streets, the sounds, the smells, the blue sky, the Andean sun and the dear friends - a home.

Then the headquarters of Bibliotecas Rurales: the numerous shelves and display cases with books from their own publishing house, the volunteer offices, the creaking wooden staircase leading to the common rooms. Every step tells a story.

One of the most important places in the project is the Hatun Wasi, the main hall, for all the meetings and gatherings. That is where I go first, because I feel the change very strongly: Alfredo is missed a lot and yet he is there. I stand in front of the lovingly designed ‘altar’ that now houses not only Juan's urn, but also Alfredo's. Behind me, on the opposite wall, there is a large photo of him, next to an older photo of Juan. There are the two founders, friends, apus of Rural Libraries, looking at us with a smile. I stand in front of them and greet them. The loss is heavy, heavy and hurts so much. I am crying. But suddenly I hear something familiar and look out: the clicking and buzzing of hummingbirds. They are still there: comforting, soothing, fascinating and uniquely beautiful. They walk between worlds and times. The buzzing of their wings signifies resurgence, confidence, courage, future, and I clearly feel that, after the serious loss, the first steps towards this future in the project have already been taken. The other layers of grief will be taken care of by life, little by little. Together, in community. As it is written in this room: In dark times we are helped by those who have been able to walk in the night.

Thank you for being able to be here with you again!

Kyra Grewe

Dance

Mara Mires was born in the heart of the Network, among books and readings, assemblies, mingas and librarians. From a very young age, she accompanied us on trips to the countryside and, even though she could not speak or walk well, she was with us when we visited the children with projectable capacities. When she was older, Mara learned to play with these children, to do some therapy exercises for them or to look for the homeopathic remedy that we indicated to her. At the library assemblies, she taught us how to make origami and helped to record the testimonies during the oral tradition rescues. Today, Mara is responsible for our social networks.

But Mara is not only that. She started practising ballet at the age of seven, then she learned to tap dance and is currently pursuing a degree in dance at the University of Antioquia in Medellín.

We rarely get to see Mara dance, because of the distance. We were very impressed by her contemporary dance performance at an event of the Ballet Academy ‘Coppèlia’ in the Plazuela San Pedro in Cajamarca in recent days.

Congratulations, dear Mara.

Danza, baila, ronda,
florea, zapatea, gira, menea,
salta, piruetea, juega,
retoza, festeja.

Dance, dance, around,

flower, stamps, spin, twirl,

jump, pirouette, play,

frolic, celebrate.

Alfredo Mires Ortiz

In: La ensoñación del Ñaupa (The daydream of Ñaupa)

In Masintranca

After three days of intense and emotional interactions at the Assembly of Rural Libraries in the city of Cajamarca, we arrived in the village of Masintranca, where Don Sergio and Doña Donatila coordinate and develop library programmes. For another three days, the two of them, together with their daughter Nerly, were the most loving hosts and guides, like older siblings, who teach us to walk, to see and to listen. From their welcoming home, we tried to get closer to what they do, to understand how the community members persevere in ensuring that the rural libraries continue to be a beacon and a place of meeting and thought for the communities, that the word unites them and helps them to grow together.

One of our objectives - Javier and I, through our meeting with the secondary school students of the Cristo Rey de Masintranca Secondary School, was to get to know a little of the world that these boys and girls live and construct; their desires, their way of seeing and participating in their community, in short, that self that each one puts into play by being part of a family, of a village. The understandable silence of the boys and girls, as well as their teachers (with whom we also did a workshop), before this pair of strange characters who suddenly appear to ask questions, became communion in the written word, in the emotions that in one way or another we all experience, but which sometimes we do not name.  From a writing exercise, which basically consists of answering some questions of an existential nature, what is proposed is a sharing of what those answers summon and provoke; to see that, in the end, we are not so different, we are happy and we rejoice and dream in similar ways, even if it is hard to talk about.

Thus came their reflections, typical of thirteen to seventeen year olds, thanks to writing, but especially thanks to their willingness to listen to themselves and to ask things they may not ask themselves in everyday life. And thanks also to their trust in us (and in our being respectful guardians of their affairs), as we also trust them with part of our own stories. There remains a precious little pile of leaves where they are what they are and also what they dream, where they mourn losses and loneliness, mistrust and inequalities, but also where they celebrate and rejoice in the grandeur of the small. We believe, as one of the girls said, that even if we don't want to remember and talk about certain things, doing so ‘will help us to build a better future’. Hence another of the girls said: {I feel} ‘in a cool way, because it allowed us to talk about a little bit of our life, how we were living’.

We were given invaluable gifts: the young students, the possibility of looking out, from their eyes, at the present in this beautiful territory; our kind hosts, including the tiny and beautiful Salomé, the infinite generosity of the hospitality that brings hearts together. To all, our gratitude and sincere desire to meet again.

Orlanda Agudelo Mejía

El Carmen del Viboral, Colombia