“Blood, land, and the Kamentsá people—that was the gift God gave us when we were born.” These are the proud words of Emerenciana. Her voice grows powerful after listening to it for a few minutes: filled with wisdom and compassion. She is an innate leader and inherited this role. Her grandparents were governors of their community and, together with her husband, Camilo Jamioy, she too has become the governor of her indigenous reservation.

The rainy days of 2021 sadden her because they remind her of another flood season that took place in 2002 when water swept away the chagras —communal gardens— that fed the entire community. She emphasizes the importance of chagras because they provide everything this community needs. In them, they grow the vegetables, plants, and tubers that make up their diet, as well as aromatic herbs and many other medicinal plants with which they cure almost any ailment that assaults them. They believe that the balance that results from cleansing with yagé depends on the chagras.

With the cadence and joy of an intact memory, she tells us how she learned every one of her people’s myths and legends. When she was a little girl, she sat around the hot tulpa and listened to the community’s mothers as they told their tales. She remembers the stories of the taita bear that referred to the bears roaming the Valley. She recalls all the tales about the little animals of the mountain, each one more special than the last. She smiles as she recounts the celebrations that take place every December to commemorate the arrival of the new year: the melodies of the flute serenades, the dresses with colorful cloaks and crowns, the way everyone rubs each other with flowers and shares food, chicha, and the mute —corn soup— with which God blessed them. This is how she grew up: joyful and with the company of her great family.

She learned all of these stories about nature and witnessed how talking about nature heals. She has devoted much of her life to weaving as a means of mending the soul’s festering wounds, confronting one’s demons, and healing the deepest of pains. She needs only to see how a girl trembles when threading a needle to understand the fears she has gone through and how abuse has broken her. In her own words, “the hard part is learning to give your word and building enough trust through weaving so that they can tell you what happened.” She is moved by this, yet she is also certain that the care these girls can receive during their weaving, alongside them taking the medicine they need, will make this a safe space for them to begin healing. This process can be carried out to cure all the ails of the heart and body. She has become a mediator; she has been there for every person that has approached her in search of someone who sees them, listens to them, and offers accurate and honest words.

She has turned into a bridge that allows us to revisit that which defines our actions: she lets us revisit the origin of our lives, free ourselves from everything that burdens us, and be born once more.