The clouds split in half as our plane is cruising, the captain announced that in a few minutes we will be landing at the airoprt that is used for Apartadó y Carepa. Then the great bannana plantations pop up, giving it that greenish color that in my mind means home.
Urabá: a land of paradox
Since many years ago, Urabá has been related to two basic concepts: banana plantations and violence. For all of us who have had the pelasure of really knowing it, we know it’s much more than that.
Vast land extensions (ganaderas), beaches, palmtrees, pineapple, coconut, indigenous tribes, warm hearted and happy people, celebrations and music. There have been athletes that have made a name for them selves in so many arenas: from the olympic games, futbol, and so many other athlets that make us feel proud of calling oursleves colombians.
Urabá is a world of paradox. Its closeness to so many DEPARTAMENTOS makes each town a world of its own, even if they are a few kilometers away from each other. The fact that the government has forgotten about us, makes us no ones land and a land for all.
Apartado is the main banana company, in the city center most of the workers form Uniban and Banacol live, thgose are tha major fruit companies. Chigordo is the ganadera central base. Capaurgana is famouse for its beaches and along the chooana coast there are several beaches and ecotourism places that make us forget where we are and make us want to stay a little bit longer.
It is possible to arrive by car from Medellin or Monteria, to conect with Chocó by water and Los Cedros airport which is between Apartadó y Carepa, making the air connection easier from Medellín and Montería.
Walking through this land
The first time I walked through this land was in 1992 when my family moved from Cartagena to Turbo. I remember my parents telling me that it was the most horrible and boring place I was ever going to see (a lie that they didn’t even believe). I was skeptical and scared because I was leaving everything I knew and we where taking on a new adventure, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
From the moment we saw the tacón of Turbo from the far, I knew I was home. This particular mixture of ordered chaos, that even if it is senseless, everything is where it is meat to be. People in the streets, where poverty and the lack of resources is evident because of the expensive lifestyle that can never be met because due to the low salaries that are paid and the bananana export. Somehow they are happy and do not think twice about dancing in the midle of the street when a champeta comes on.
As the days went by I noticed that the power realtionships in Turbo are very differnte than thos ein Cartagena, experience means more than any degree and money. So many “doctors” made small talk interesting, and the zest peoplhad camouflaged the fear they experienced in those days.
Smell of the promise land
Things have changed and so have the people that impart that fear. We have seen the guerrilla and druglords, paramilitares and the common criminals. That has not mean that people light a candle for God and the Devil in the same place where you hope nothing bad happens. You hope that lightning a candle so that the “burden” doesn’t fall , where everyone know who is who.
All of those realities give it a special flare, a smell of the promise land, mixed with sweat and blood, because there is no fairy tale without a villain and this makes everyday heroes capable of defeating dragons and rescuing princess.
Every time I go back to Turbo I realize that I miss the insanity of the days, seeing my friends and family, eating a mango biche while a vallenato/reggaeton/champeta or song of the moment is the soundtrack next to the atrio of the church, watching the motorcycles go by and knowing I am home.
