Sierra Nevada: May 2000
The Caribbean coast of Colombia surged with a power and presence that was raw nature in its free born design. The light of the full moon cast my shadow westward down its sandy shores. I faced inland, my attention drawn to a lightning storm high in the mountains. Diversity in its extreme, I looked upon the foothills of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. This ice-peaked mountain range is the home and sanctuary of the Indian tribe called the Kogi, descendants of the ancient Tairona tribe. The inhabitants of the mountains have a name for their home, to them it is a sacred place, it is 'The heart of the world'.

The roar of the turbulent ocean behind did little to soothe my feeling of anticipation. Tomorrow’s sunrise brought with it the start of my 'walk' into the Mountains with a man named Mama Santos, a Kogi Shaman. He had said to me,' Tomorrow we go up', and it was so.

My journey took me over high mountains and through sparkling rivers, while my soul had similar mountains to conquer and stepping stones to find. This sacred ice-peaked mountain taught me many lessons. It seemed the mountain possessed a consciousness with which it guided yet disciplined, nurtured yet punished. It hummed with life and whispered of death. One respected the mountain, even without knowing entirely why. I sensed an air of authority, much like that of the sea, with its passive reproach reminding the unenlightened of its elemental power.

The Beginning
My story begins in a place called Park Tayrona on the Southern Caribbean Coast of Colombia it was just before Easter of the year 2000.

I stayed alone here and so spent my days making my way up the never-ending beaches and coves cracking open coconuts with my machete. I would sit down in the sand and sip on coconut milk and look out to the coasts merciless sea – pounding and thundering its effortless power. The place had an unadorned beauty, I couldn’t help but notice how the wild and savage magnificence made me feel small in comparison, a very small part, yet nonetheless a member of natures vast family.

On the 8th day, I watched a sunset through to its maturity from my perch on a large rock. With the sun gone and the ambient light rapidly disappearing, I thought it best to start my thirty-minute walk back to my hammock and turn in for the night. I took a shortcut through the jungle and arrived at my cabana (hut) just as the last traces of twilight faded into the mountains.

Meeting My Guide Caesar
It was this night I first met Caesar.

I was lying in my hammock quietly contemplating my arrival into the park, which, at the time was closed. I had heard stories about Tayrona, that it was worth its danger to see, that its tropical jungles were war zones of the drug Lords and guerrillas and to leave the beach or the paths, entailed being shot on sight. Don’t ask what drew me to this place, maybe its like being challenged by a beautiful, proud lion and the temptation to know its nature proved too much to resist.

I was introduced to Caesar by a friend of his, which in my opinion aided Caesar’s credibility, as his friend seemed like a decent man. He was so excited to help Caesar, ‘Oh, he knows all about the Indians and he has a lot of friends up there, he speaks their language, I have even been up there with him myself’, he reassured me. My interest had definitely been sparked, though I was still waiting for the catch. So I went to speak to Caesar in his hut.

Is Caesar Trustworthy?
Caesar claimed to be a guide of the Sierra Nevada specialising in his knowledge of the Indian people living there.

After our conversation, I had a feeling I couldn’t trust him, but he was the only lead I had found that could guide me through the mountains of the Sierra Nevada and a with a possibility of seeing a Kogi village.

A six-day trip with an official guide retreading the same well-trodden track with a bunch of other tourists to visit the deserted Lost City didn’t quite compare to what Caesar was offering me. Apart from being beyond my price range, I had heard stories that tourists had been kidnapped for ransom by the paramilitary on this officially guided tour. Also I had heard of the Kogi Indians from the locals, but they told me it was nearly impossible to meet them because they lived high in the mountain where tourists are not permitted.

Caesar is Arrested
So I told Caesar we would speak in the morning to give him my final decision.

That night I prayed and asked for Gods guidance. I handed the decision over to divine will – if I was meant to go, it would happen.

The next morning I awoke and went to find Caesar. My answer was inclined toward yes, but I was yet to see what the divine will had to say. I couldn’t find Caesar anywhere, until eventually I found his friend and asked him of Caesar’s whereabouts. He replied, ‘Caesar has been arrested by the police early this morning, they have taken him away to jail in Bogota, he will not be returning.’

I then experienced a mixture of disappointment and relief. My heart had wanted to go with him, but my mind had been well aware of the risk.

So be it, it seemed it was not meant to be.

Caesar and I Meet Again
I felt my time in Park Tayrona was finished, so I left and headed to Minca two days later. Minca is a little village on the Southern slopes of the Sierra Nevada. I was waiting in the market place on a small transport truck for its departure, when, to my astonishment, out of the crowd appeared Caesar.

To Minca for Work over Easter
He was carrying and Indian made bag, he hopped onto the truck and added his bag to a couple of matching bags across from me – they were obviously his bags which he had left there before I got on the truck.

Caesar and I go to Minca
I asked him why he was going to Minca, he told me was invited up there to write articles about the Kogi for a local magazine.

Caesar in Minca
We spent some time in Minca and planned a trip to the mountain the day after Easter.

Adventure Calls
So we set out for our adventure into the high mountains of the Sierra Nevada. Our destination was the slopes of the ice-peaked mountain – the only one in the world to be so close to the sea.

Base of the Ice-Peaked Mountain
There is a house at the base of the mountain that was especially built for the Indians. When the people of the mountain travelled form or to the mountain, they stopped at this house for the night before continuing their journey either way. Caesar and I stayed here for three days to wait for a mule to carry our supplies.
Little did I know that fate was about to step in once again. During those three days many wonderful and terrible events took place. Events that were a turning point in my life.

Behind the house was an orchard used for growing used for growing food crops. It had trees and plants such as plantain, pineapple, mango and malanga – a root that resembled potato in texture.

Deep into the trees of the orchard stood two traditional huts made from woven palm fronds and thatched leaves for a roof.
It was in one of these guest huts that Caesar and I stayed.

On the first night we found a snake nestled inside where the roof met the woven palm wall. Caesar seemed to take the snake’s presence very seriously. That night he set up a fire on the floor nearest the snake and performed a lengthy ritual. He said it was to honour the great snake. I was puzzled that he seemed to fear the snake and yet he told me that I need have no fear of it.

Kogi Family - Grandma gives me a Gift
On the second day a family of Indians arrived and stayed in the other guest hut. There was a man, his wife and small son of about three years and a grandmother Indian. I was delighted – it was my first encounter with these shy and reserved people and I withheld none of the warmth and curiosity I held toward them.

The little boy was very shy and hid behind his grandmother and kept one wary eye on me. He was such a beautiful and natural child I felt compelled to win his trust. So I ran back into my hut and looked for one of the cookies I had bought when I was in town. Armed with my cookie, I sat down in front of the grandmother and offered the cookie to the child. Slowly, he emerged from behind his grandmother and took the cookie from my hand – at this moment we began to smile at each other as he appreciatively nibbled away on his cookie.

Caesar said something to the Grandmother Kogi and she looked at me for a short period. She replied to Caesar in a language I didn’t understand, a few sentences were exchanged between the gruff voice of the Grandmother Kogi and Caesar.

Then, the grandmother reached into one of her bags and took out some green cord. She held out the cord and indicated for me to give her my hand. Then she tied it around my wrist with a curious cylinder-shaped green stone threaded onto it. I was already feeling a deep sense of gratitude, when, to my surprise she tied another cord with a similar stone though black around my other wrist. I wasn’t sure what to do or say so I bowed my head and thanked her in Spanish. I looked up at Caesar who was standing nearby and watching, his expression was one of awe. He murmured, ‘Never in all of my nine years in the Sierra I have never seen a grandmother Kogi give anyone anything let alone two sacred tuma beads.’

"Caesar, tell me what you mean."

He turned and looked at me with a sparkle of excitement in his eye.

"She gave you not just one, but two Tairona stones. They are two thousand years old."

I turned to her and tried to thank her again, she gave me a small nod without looking at me and they all stood up and went inside the other hut. I looked over at Caesar again, who still seemed to be buzzing as he reminded me again of the significance of this gift from the Grandmother Kogi. Then he told me what they had spoken about a few minutes before.

"I told her you were a student of natural medicine, she said that you already have strong medicine. You have a purpose for this mountain." I just blinked and shook my head at how honoured I felt. Already I wanted to somehow repay them.

I found out later the meaning of the beads. The Kogi used stones such as these as divining tools for various purposes. The Kogi's say green is the colour of healing and that the reason for the green cords to tie on my stones. The green stone is used for healing and to prepare the energies of the earth where seeds are to be planted. The black stone represents the life/death/life cycles of nature and the time just before Dawn.

This was one of the better moments Caesar and I shared during our time together.

Since we had been at the house of the Indians, he had been steadily working on the seven litres of rum we had bought for trading for food in the mountain. I knew we were waiting for a mule because Caesar had spent all of the money and couldn’t afford to pay for one. We had already exceeded the agreed price for the trip and my backup cash was diminishing at a rapid rate.

Caesar slaughters a Cow
By the end of the third day, Caesar had managed to polish of the entire seven litres of rum. Then he used the extra food money I gave him to buy even more rum. My previous easygoing tolerance was beginning to wane. On that day and that evening, Caesar managed to destroy what little dubious faith I had left in him.

Among other things, he had borrowed my machete the night before and used to slaughter a cow. More than proud of himself with his achievement he presented the tongue-lolled head for my personal viewing, and handed back my machete to me covered in the dried blood of his kill.

That, I deemed, was enough to put anyone, especially an animal-loving vegetarian in a justified state of doubt in regard to his character. The meat of the sacrifice, I presume was to be used as payment to the House of the Indigenous for their hospitality. I guess it was the look in his eye when he held the cow’s head up by its fringe that struck me. If I went with him into the jungle, I decided at the very least, I would be sleeping with the machete under my head.

That evening he gave me the strangest look, he was about seven meters away from me and we caught each others eye, it was like we saw each others soul, it appeared that his was burning. The he walked over and gave me a bookmark that said ‘Amistad’ or friendship, it was then that I realised Caesar was playing games.

I prayed for protection and felt confident in Gods presence. I knew I was meant to be here, I didn’t know what for, but with Gods guidance and protection and my instincts on full alert, I continued with the flow.

That night I fell asleep while Caesar was making his way through the last litre of rum. I was woken around 2 am by a very excited Caesar claiming that I had better wake up and I was a very lucky girl and what a rare opportunity...

"Caesar, what is it?" I asked, still groggy from sleep, Caesar was beside himself, "Two Shamans have arrived from the mountain just now and one of them wants to meet you."

Before I knew it, our excited company was joined as a Mama entered our hut. ‘Mama’ is the title used for the Shamans in the mountain, and this was my first encounter with Mama Santos. He looked quite old, but he exuded a very strong and lively energy as he vigorously shook my hand.

The Shaman said, "I am Mama Santos."

"My name is Sarena." I replied.

He pointed at me and smiled, " You are my friend."

With that he whirled out of the hut in the same manner he had entered. I was sitting there in my hammock half asleep trying to figure out if I was dreaming when Caesar asked me for more money for rum.
"You have to give the Shaman a gift and he wants rum."

By this time I had barely enough money to get me back to Santa Marta. I also suspected Caesar was trying to scam me again, so I said no. Caesar became furious, we had a verbal argument outside the hut, he called me a few names, and claimed that I would be offending the Shaman if I didn’t buy him some rum as a gift. Caesar then told me to go inside of the hut and that I was no longer welcome here by the Indians because I had offended the Shaman. He also said I was just a girl and not worthy to go up the mountain and I only deserved to be in my hammock. He ordered me into the hut and disappeared into the trees toward the House of the Indians.

Now I felt awake I must say. I lit a cigarette and quickly contemplated my situation. I knew hardly any Spanish and Caesar was claiming I was a crazy white girl and he was off to make sure everybody knew it. I thought to myself, Well, I’ve got nothing to loose, I’ll just smile a lot, because now seems like a very good time to go and make some friends. So in my long black cotton dress which I wore as a nighty, I made my way through the plantain trees by the moonlight toward the house.

I walked into the light of the porch with my back straight and my shoulders back in preparation for what reception I would get. Caesar was on a mission after stating to me I had just offended the Shaman by not buying them rum, so for all I knew I could find myself being chased off the homestead any minute. I was surprised to see a Colombian guy about my age sitting on one of the surrounding brick walls of the porch. There was another brick wall opposite him, so I sat down and said hello. He told me his name is Rodrigo and he introduced me to his Venezuelan girlfriend Maribel and the three of us talked using a Spanish/English dictionary until the sun came up.

Rodrigo could speak a small amount of English – about the equivalent of my Spanish, but I felt relieved that these people were willing to spend the time to communicate with me. They seemed like Angels in comparison to Caesar. As we spoke, I found out that these two lived in the mountain with Mama Santos, I said I have met Mama Santos. Rodrigo replied, "So you’re the one Mama wanted to meet. You are a very luck girl."

When I finally returned to the hut, I checked my purse, and the exact amount Caesar had wanted was gone.

I Become Upset
I decided to lie down and have a good think about my situation. I had no idea of the extremes this day would bring. After a couple of hours, I left my hammock to go to the porch.

I stepped out of the hut and a group of Indians were sitting around in a group nearby. They looked at me and I smiled and said good morning. Then, to my absolute devastation, they started pointing at me and laughing. One of the young men yelled out that I was crazy and they laughed all the more. I put my shoulders back and walked into the plantation, hot tears springing from my eyes. I have never in all my life felt so small.

I found a tree away from the hut and resignedly slumped at the base. I never did have a strong confidence in myself, and this incident threw me into a teary turmoil of doubts. I had such a high respect for the indigenous people, their opinion meant a lot to me. So maybe I was just some crazy white girl, maybe Caesar was right and I was so selfish that I had offended Mama Santos, maybe I didn’t fit into society because I really was a pathetic freak. I cried until I had no more tears. Looking back, I think the tears were cried for many heartaches.

In a way I felt cleansed after this, I felt so humble and I also felt like I had nothing left to lose. My will had been broken. I picked myself up, dried my eyes and made my way back to the porch. Flowering of the Tears

Mama Santos 'Accepts' Me
I found Rodrigo and Maribel and told them I suspected Caesar had stolen some money. They suggested that I ask Mama Santos if I could stay in his village – but they warned me first I would need to be ‘accepted.’ I agreed but I didn’t like my chances.
We found Mama and Rodrigo asked for me in Spanish as I stood beside. I remember looking at the ground, smoke rising from the fire making me eyes water and feeling the tentative silence as Rodrigo asked. I heard Mama’s immediate reply, ’Yes’. I lifted my downcast eyes to his smiling face, that same contented, knowing smile I was to see many times again.

My tears from the smoke turned into real tears of joy as he took both my hands in his and said,

"Now, I am your Father, I will take care of you."

Caesar Robs Me
A little while later, Caesar arose from his drunken slumber. I was sitting at the fire making coffee when he approached with a half grimace, half smile.

"Good Morning Caesar", I said no more.

"Good Morning, did you sleep well", Caesar attempted cheerfulness.

"I haven’t slept yet and you?", I politely replied.

"Yeah good." Pause. "So how are you? Is everything still all right between us? Still friends?"

"I am well Thank you Caesar, and no, things are not alright between us. I am not going up the mountain with you."
His tone became deathly serious. "Why not?"

"I counted my money just before Caesar, some is missing, in fact, the exact amount you asked for."

Caesar started light-heartedly chatting away, avoiding the subject while I humoured him with nods and ah huh’s, until he realised he had blown it. I was going up the mountain without him. Little did I know Caesar had other plans in mind.
I told Caesar I would leave some of the food we had bought (which I paid for) so he could get by or go up the mountain by himself. Caesar, however, decided he was entitled to the lot, including all the items which were to be used as trading for food, for example the candles and machetes. He took the lot.

There were a few reasons why I forced myself to bite my tongue on this occasion. Not only because I considered him to be slightly ‘off his head’, but he also been associated with the guerrillas and paramilitary in the past. I could also safely assume he was involved with the Drug Lords who lived up there. I later found out I was right and this was not the last I was to see of Caesar.

Caesar goes up the Mountain
I was reading the Bible when Caesar finished packing up all of my supplies. He knelt down on one-knee two meters away from me and gave me one his most evil grins. Thick red lips spattered with bits of coca leaf, greenish brown slimy teeth composed his leer, and his smouldering brown eyes in a backdrop of bloodshot and tan-coloured whites – a definite crazy look about him.
I couldn’t help myself, I had to grin back.

I had a feeling that I had won this battle and part of the victory was Caesar believing he had got the better of me. I had given the situation over to the Divine and so I felt free and guided and protected regardless of what Caesar would do.
Caesar wanted the last word, he was all pumped up with ego as he said it.
"You will never make into the mountain without me, you have just made your first and last mistake by not respecting the Mama. And, oh, you are not welcome at this house once I’m gone."

"Yes Caesar, you have made your point. Adios."

Caesar didn’t know I was going into the Sierra with a Mama. Caesar departed toward the mountain with the mule, I didn’t look back.

We visit Dr. Juan Carlos
That day Rodrigo, Maribel, Mama and his nephew Gabriel and I went to visit a doctor in Santa Marta. I was introduced to him as Doctor Juan Carlos – specialist in tropical diseases. It was Juan Carlos who explained to me the purpose of Mama's visit to Santa Marta. To my delight Juan Carlos spoke fluent English. He explained,

"The Kogis are working on building a hospital in the mountain. The hospital is the starting point of the Indians becoming independent of civilised medicine. They will be using some of ‘our’ (meaning civilisation) equipment and maybe some vaccines, but the basic principal behind this project is so that the Indigenous people have access to natural medical care and treatment whilst in the mountain. There are still some problems to be worked out, for example, all of the diseases which have been introduced by civilisation – the Indians, they don’t know how to treat these yet, they don’t know what herbs to use.

Orthodox medicine has proved largely ineffective with these people for various reasons – a main one being they live at least two days walk into the mountain, which makes a consultation down here difficult. Also, diseases such as TB require six months of treatment on antibiotics. I have been working with the Indians now for two years and even though my profession is the orthodox approach, I have found this approach incompatible the indigenous society."

That evening Juan Carlos and I went for a walk. I spoke with Juan Carlos more and realised he was a real saint. I told him that and he replied with a modest air.

"Well, my wife didn’t cope with the death threats from the foundation (Indigenous) so well. She and my daughter are now living in Medellin. They don’t feel safe living here at the moment."

"So let me get this straight.’ I said with an increasing understanding of Colombian politics. ‘You have been helping the Indians for the last two years under the employment of “The Foundation of the Indigenous of the Sierra Nevada” right?’

"Right!"

"You left the Foundation because you couldn’t stand the corruption anymore. You tried to send evidence away to the government to show that practically none of the grants for medicine for the Indigenous people here is actually being used for this purpose, right?"

"Right."

"Your house was then raided by people from the foundation before the evidence could be sent away to the government, and you and your family were threatened with death by these people, right?"

"I had been working for the indigenous people free of charge. My employer – the Foundation didn’t pay me for these expeditions – claiming they were unnecessary. So I resigned and I am working independently now. Money is very tight for me and I am going to have to sell my house and practice soon."

"But you are still helping the Indians." I said, amazed with his dedication.

"Yes. They are my friends. Right now we are trying to arrange aid from the Red Cross to donate medical supplies for the hospital. Even that has turned into a political mess over money."

Dr. Juan Carlos is a Saint
Now I could see why this man looked so tired. Not just physically tired from a bad night sleep, he was spiritually tired. He was giving up. I think the only thing that was keeping him there was he knew how much the people needed him and he cared for these people. What a true person he was.

When we returned from the walk Rodrigo was typing on the computer. Juan Carlos noticed my curiosity and told me Rodrigo had been nominated the secretary representing the Kogis in matters involving the Foundation and the hospital project. Then Juan Carlos said,
"He is typing a letter to the foundation to try and get some help by explaining the project to them. Though it probably won’t help."

The next day there was a meeting with the Red Cross – I couldn’t understand the Spanish so I went shopping for more supplies to take up the mountain. In the afternoon we headed back to the House of the Indigenous.

We awoke just before the crack of dawn.

The Indians Laugh at my Pack
We made some coffee and breakfast, then loaded up the mule. Now, I considered my pack to be of a moderate size – though it seemed I was the only one! In comparison to everyone else’s two small hand woven bags, I guess mine was kind of hefty.

As they looked at me, I indicated my white skin with my finger and a little bit of Spanish. A cheeky grin helped to place the blame on the colour of my skin rather than me personally. The shaking heads expression of disbelief turned into a warmer humour as they laughed and nodded in understanding. My red, embarrassed face resumed its usual whiter appearance as I tried to push the image from my mind of a Hollywood blond insisting on taking her hairdryer and manicure set in the company of Indiana Jones or someone. Well, at least the mule didn’t seem to mind too much. Then we were ready.

We made our way into the foothills of the mountains.