Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
Since March 2021, I’ve been trying to write this blog post. I probably have written thousands of words of draft text. I had the chance to share an Easter reflection at our staff meeting this week, and was given three minutes to speak and two minutes for a ritual. That beautiful constraint birthed this very
I once brought a stack of photos to a Justapaz meetings. I asked each member of the team to pick a photo and describe a feeling. The one answer that still stands out, because I couldn’t quite believe it, is of a group of kids wearing matching soccer jerseys and kicking a ball. “You can
Last night, the Women Weavers of Dreams and Flavours of Peace of Mampuján won the National Peace Prize. These are my reflections after the event on the various definitions a peace prize can hold. A peace prize is a piece of paper with handwritten words on it. It can be held to to the light
The Parkway was glorious this morning. The sun was shining and there were people everywhere. I saw a man carrying a giant bouquet of helium balloon figures, a baby with an enormous hair ribbon eating an oblea, an elderly man pushing an even older man in a wheelchair, a tiny political rally directly across from
“To see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what myth does for you.” Joseph Campbell One of the first things I noticed when eating out in Colombia was the small plastic packet that always accompanied fried chicken. At first, I assumed it was a wet wipe, to clean up afterwards.
I went back to Mampujan in the beginning of January. After rushing to get leave Sincelejo early, I waited for an hour for the bus to fill, my stomach already full of butterflies. During the trip, a suitcase fell on my head from the overhead compartment.
When on Colombia’s Caribbean coast, I spend the my time in the places I know best: the small communities that pepper the highway in Bolívar. In order to truly enter into a costeño rhythm, it is imperative to leave the city and experience life in a pueblo. Still want the beach? A great route to
I arrived at the National Museum first on Wednesday night and was afraid that I wouldn’t spot them, but there was really no need to worry. The moment they walked through the doors of the auditorium, I knew it was them. In fact, I would know the Mampujaneros anywhere: their energy, their charisma, their style,
I was frantically wiping dust off plastic chairs when Juana Alicia called me over to photograph “something historic”. I did not know that Uber Banquez, alias “Juancho Dique” was going to be in Mampujan until he stepped out of the penitentiary van, handcuffed and escorted by police. Tensions were high: for the first time the
When I saw the email invite to Mamupjan’s 14th commemoration of displacement in my inbox, my first reaction was panic. After I engaged in some deep breathing to dissolve the ball of stress that had instantly formed in my stomach, I was able to continue reading with a mixture of happiness and regret. Regret because
Anna L. Vogt 