Minorities

Tradition and tenacity: The Wayuu women of La Guajira

Three Wayuu children at play beside a small tree

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In January 2024, forty water tankers stood idle in the parking lot of a military base in Uribia, Colombia. Sent to combat the urgent water shortage in La Guajira, not one tanker left the parking lot. Amid government scandal and regional corruption, thirsty communities were left behind. This neglect is too familiar to the Wayuu indigenous people who inhabit La Guajira.

“The Wayuu, as is the case with many indigenous groups in our countries and in the entire world, are invisible communities to the governments,” says Dr. Lourdes Grollimund, the CEO and co-founder of Mama Tierra, a Swiss nonprofit organization that supports Wayuu female artisans in the La Guajira region, “In the case of the Wayuu, that has been true forever. Neither the Colombian government nor the Venezuelan government do as much as they perhaps should be doing.”

A dry landscape stretches out for miles
The dry landscape of La Guajira

La Guajira is a region shared by northern Colombia and northwestern Venezuela. Stretching along 15,000 kilometres of pristine Caribbean coast, it is a remote and arid habitat, marked by dunes, stunning desert landscapes, and an uninterrupted view of the night sky. This is the region the Wayuu people have called home for centuries, where they sleep in hammocks or chinchorros under the stars and pray to Juya, the respected and beloved god of rain.

Behind the natural beauty of the region is the uglier reality of La Guajira as the “other” Colombia, abandoned and forgotten. Despite the country’s status as an upper middle-income economy, in La Guajira, there is rampant malnutrition and poverty. In 2022, the region’s child mortality rate due to malnutrition was 8.5x higher than the national average. The water tanker scandal this past January suggests that not much has changed. Instead of providing relief to Wayuu communities, a portion of the 46.8 billion pesos (about CAD $15.3 million) allocated for this project was allegedly used to bribe the presidents of Colombia’s Senate and House of Representatives to expedite President Gustavo Petro’s proposed reforms.

Dr. Lourdes Grollimund

Despite this, the Wayuu’s survival story is a testament to perseverance, determination, and resistance. “It’s rather incredible that the Wayuu live there, and that they have chosen to be there,” Dr. Grollimund told me. “The environment has gotten harsher on them, but they haven’t left it. And they always find ways to be grateful for what they have.”

Like many indigenous groups worldwide, the Wayuu are already feeling the devastating impacts of climate change, desertification, and environmental exploitation. Government corruption and neglect don’t help. Despite this, the Wayuu are determined not to give up on their ancestral lands. In this matriarchal society, Wayuu women are spearheading this battle to preserve their lands, traditions, and indigenous worldview.

The role of Wayuu women

“The role of Wayuu women is to actively conserve the community’s ontology and worldview,” Karen Tiller Pana, a leader and founder of Artes Jala-Ala, said when I spoke with her. Artes Jala-Ala specializes in making traditional Wayuu handicrafts according to ancestral techniques and empowering female artisans through sustainable practices (see its Instagram page here). The first time we spoke over a WhatsApp call, she invited me to come visit her community in the Jojoncito region of La Guajira, speaking proudly about the biodiversity and natural landscape. Even thousands of kilometres away, I felt her hospitality and kindness radiating through the screen. The interview was conducted in Spanish, so I have provided a translation of what Tiller told me.

Speaking passionately about the fundamental roles Wayuu women play in their community, Tiller explained how Wayuu women are custodians of traditional knowledge, responsible for passing down sacred myths, spiritual rituals, and the traditional language, Wayuunaiki. In passing down their ancestral tongue Wayuunaiki, she said that “the language not only communicates words, but also carries very profound meanings. These are connected to worldviews and our relationship with the land and ancestors.”

Mama Tierra artisans with book and child
Mama Tierra artisans

Wayuu women are responsible for passing down this language and cosmovision to the next generation, just as they received it. Through this intergenerational dialogue, they reinforce the community’s spiritual connection with their ancestral lands and strengthen the Wayuu identity. In these ways, the women teach a profound reverence towards the natural world, practicing sustainable management of natural resources according to traditional practices.

This knowledge is not merely ontological; it’s a set of values dictating how the Wayuu interact with the natural world. Tiller told me that the Wayuu view “the natural world as an interconnected system where each element has a purpose and a meaningful relationship with the others. Everything around us, even the smallest insect, we know has a fundamental role. Considering how dry and arid La Guajira is, if a plant survives this, it is a very great accomplishment and it is an immense joy, which we must take care of and preserve over time.”

Wayuu traditional practices and knowledge “promote biodiversity conservation and reinforce a profound respect and spiritual connection with the earth” says Tiller. Dr. Grollimund agrees with this understanding about the Wayuu, “They depend on the environment where they live, so they have the utmost respect for it.”

The mining issue

Dr. William Avilés smiling for a photo
Dr. William Avilés. Photo from his U Nebraska website profile.

Unfortunately, the government and the multinational mining companies it cooperates with do not seem to share the same reverence for the natural world. I spoke with Dr. William Avilés, a professor of Latin American Politics at the University of Nebraska, and the author of “Global Capitalism, Democracy and Civil-Military Relations in Colombia,” about the situation. He said, “If we just simply look at the last two or three decades, Colombia’s national government has made clear that extractivism is going to be a central motor of development. That’s a commitment that they’re making after all of this established evidence of the negative consequences that mining has had in La Guajira,”

One of the largest open-pit coal mines in the world, El Cerrejón, has been operating in La Guajira since 1985. The mine operation has led to the violent eviction of Wayuu communities and a rise in targeted assassinations of indigenous land defenders in Colombia. The mine strips Wayuu of their natural resources, diverts their water supply, contaminates the air they breathe, and interrupts their spiritual relationship with their ancestral lands. The pollutants emitted by the 24/7 mine activity cause serious health issues such as headaches, nasal and respiratory discomfort, dry cough, burning eyes and blurred vision for the Wayuu communities living near the El Cerrejón mine. I contacted El Cerrejón and its Swiss-owned parent company, Glencore, but neither responded to my request for comment.

Tiller lives in Jojoncito, about four hours away from the mine, and she is aware of the effect it has had on her fellow Wayuu people, “All these mining operations cause deforestation, loss of natural habitats, water and air pollution, and alteration of ecosystems. They drain the little amount of water we have. Because it rains less and less, what they do is drain and drain. So the land is more and more arid, more and more unlivable and there is less water.” The wealth and energy generated by El Cerrejón does not trickle down to the communities in which it operates. “Sincerely, it does not benefit us at all,” she said. “Because the multinational companies do all their extraction there, but all this goes to the interior of the country. The interior of Colombia receives the energy and we who are in La Guajira receive damage from the negative environmental impacts that the mine generates.”

Despite its devastating environmental impact, many Wayuu are employed in the mines, and Dr. Avilés noted that “people working in these places are also having to go back to their homes that are being affected environmentally by what Cerrejón is doing.” Faced with a moral paradox between indigenous reverence towards the environment and a need to provide for their families, many Wayuu find that they have no choice.

“Men and women choose to go to work in the mines because their traditional art is not giving them enough to eat.” Dr. Grollimund said. Furthermore, the environmental contamination caused by mining activity prevents the Wayuu from being able to live off of traditional agriculture, fishing, and hunting. This alienates the Wayuu from their indigenous roots and ancestral knowledge of living off the land.

Resistance

Since the rise of El Cerrejón, the role of the Wayuu woman has become more important, not only as a transmitter of traditional knowledge but as an environmental warrior. “To confront the challenges that we face, Wayuu leaders and communities are involved in different resistance movements and political advocacy efforts to protect the land and resources,” Tiller told me. “We’ve formed collaborations with non-governmental organizations and broader social movements to strengthen advocacy capacity and promote sustainable development alternatives.”

Dr. Avilés said that one major resistance strategy is to educate people about indigenous visions, indigenous conceptions of life, and the importance of mother nature. Groups like Fuerza de Mujeres Wayuu (Wayuu Women Force) lead educational workshops to teach traditional knowledge and strategies for mitigating the impacts of the climate crisis on the Wayuu. They developed the “School of Communications of the Wayuu People” in which Wayuu youth participate in workshops where they learn to be the next generation of Wayuu leaders, acting with authenticity, eloquence, and environmental responsibility, according to the Wayuu spirit. Dr. Avilés believes these workshops and ethno-educational institutions “absolutely have a positive effect. It seems like they strengthen the extent that the community, not just the activists, recognizes the importance of resisting and the significance of that struggle because of it.”

This pedagogical work revitalizes Wayuu worldviews and language, catalyzing the next generation to preserve their culture amid ongoing cultural erosion although, as Tiller said, “Globalization and modernization are causing a loss of interest in the ancestral traditions among the younger generations.” The educational work by Fuerza de Mujeres Wayuu is working to actively change that.

Artisan Cristina Uriana doing some weaving with a bowl of yarn
Artisan Cristina Uriana

Tiller’s weapons of resistance are her weaving and her university degree in business administration. By founding a business where she practices, teaches, and profits from traditional artisanal techniques, she makes a living without having to compromise indigenous values. When Tiller spoke about the cloth bags she weaves, her face lit up “We don’t just sell bags, we sell stories. Behind every product lies a story.” As Dr. Grollimund told me, when a Wayuu woman learns how to weave a bag according to ancestral techniques, “She will be taught the values of the Wayuu people. How to do things in an excellent way, how to persevere, how to count.” Practicing these traditional crafts on a daily basis connects Wayuu women to their ancestors and the values they have lived by in La Guajira for centuries. Weaving grants women and their communities autonomy over their finances and their lives.

These Wayuu women not only resist local corruption and extractivism but also serve as leaders in the fight against climate change. Their Wayuu worldview, including a profound reverence and respect for all natural beings, teaches a lesson that stretches far beyond La Guajira. The Paris Agreement recognizes that climate change action should be guided by “traditional knowledge, knowledge of indigenous peoples and local knowledge systems.” The United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs recognizes that, because indigenous people live in deep spiritual connection to the land, they are stewards of the world’s biodiversity. Colombia is one of the world’s most biodiverse countries. Wayuu women intend to keep it that way.

There is hope that they are not alone in this fight. This year, the Wayuu collaborated with international development agencies and National Natural Parks of Colombia, harnessing cutting-edge environmental tracking technologies to monitor climate-induced threats to regional ecosystems and biodiversity. On a broader political level, Petros’ presidency brings hope to the Wayuu community, since he seems to be invested in indigenous organizing activity and a green transition, but concerns remain.

“It seems like there’s some evidence that the ongoing tragedy and challenges that are happening there have been taken advantage of by some political actors to their benefit. This, sadly, is a part of the problem in terms of regional corruption that has frustrated some of these benefits for these indigenous communities” says Dr. Avilés, “Today, we haven’t seen the result we were hoping for”

Many Wayuu are still without adequate access to clean water and food. With shaky government support, their survival story speaks of perseverance, autonomy, tenacity, and resistance. The Wayuu are trying to take matters into their own hands, working to improve their communities with the ancestral techniques they have relied on for centuries. Women like Tiller and groups like Fuerza de Mujeres Wayuu are on the frontline of this fight, revitalizing traditional ontology in the next generation of Wayuu and not giving up on the place they call home.


Photos of Wayuu people were taken by Edward Perdomo for Mama Tierra, who provided permission for their use by Upstream Journal. The photo at the top shows Wayuu children at play.

Author
Mira Cohen