The Parade for Life
On October 18, 2020, the Minga arrives in Bogotá. The minga, which initially means "collective works", is a large mobilization of indigenous people, afrodescendant people and peasants. It started in the Cauca department and calls for a set of demands around the themes of defense of life, territory, democracy and peace. According to the Life and Human Rights Network of Cauca, there have been 70 murders of civilians since the beginning of the pandemic.
What impressed me the most is not that 7000 people, Indians, Afro, peasants, mobilized for more than 10 days and traveled 600 km to show their determination. Nor are the trucks with a thousand colors carrying passengers on their roofs, equally colorful in their diversity and joy. No, I would remember above all the extremely strong popular support that has been affirmed from the first meters traveled in the suburbs of Bogotá. For nearly 4 hours, the convoy was cheered as it passed through the most popular neighborhoods of the Colombian capital. Young and old raised their arms to salute, raised their fists and watched with great emotion the predominantly indigenous mobilization. It was as if hope was reborn in the eyes of those who had to flee the war to take refuge in the outskirts of Bogotá, where they were crowded into thin-walled buildings or houses made of bric-a-brac, far from nature and subjected to exhausting working and living conditions.
I took these photos on the roof of one of these chivas, these tireless transport trucks. Immobilized by my unstable position, standing shoulder to shoulder with my fellow travelers, I saw these radiant faces passing by, making us forget the daily mourning of a Colombia that tries in vain to conquer peace. And I thought of Paul Fusco, of his series on Bob Kennedy's funeral train, that sometimes what needs to be shown is not so much the event but how it is lived. And then somewhere, this Minga marching through the streets of Bogotá was also a vigil, in honor of all those who died as a result of the internal conflict, especially in recent months, in the context of a pandemic that exacerbates all difficulties and inequalities. But the Minga is also a parade for life, as the joy that the public reflects suggests. So this series is intended as a very (very) modest tribute to Paul Fusco, who once said: "I want to take pictures of people that, when you see them, you can feel their lives".
The Parade for Life
On October 18, 2020, the Minga arrives in Bogotá. The minga, which initially means "collective works", is a large mobilization of indigenous people, afrodescendant people and peasants. It started in the Cauca department and calls for a set of demands around the themes of defense of life, territory, democracy and peace. According to the Life and Human Rights Network of Cauca, there have been 70 murders of civilians since the beginning of the pandemic.
What impressed me the most is not that 7000 people, Indians, Afro, peasants, mobilized for more than 10 days and traveled 600 km to show their determination. Nor are the trucks with a thousand colors carrying passengers on their roofs, equally colorful in their diversity and joy. No, I would remember above all the extremely strong popular support that has been affirmed from the first meters traveled in the suburbs of Bogotá. For nearly 4 hours, the convoy was cheered as it passed through the most popular neighborhoods of the Colombian capital. Young and old raised their arms to salute, raised their fists and watched with great emotion the predominantly indigenous mobilization. It was as if hope was reborn in the eyes of those who had to flee the war to take refuge in the outskirts of Bogotá, where they were crowded into thin-walled buildings or houses made of bric-a-brac, far from nature and subjected to exhausting working and living conditions.
I took these photos on the roof of one of these chivas, these tireless transport trucks. Immobilized by my unstable position, standing shoulder to shoulder with my fellow travelers, I saw these radiant faces passing by, making us forget the daily mourning of a Colombia that tries in vain to conquer peace. And I thought of Paul Fusco, of his series on Bob Kennedy's funeral train, that sometimes what needs to be shown is not so much the event but how it is lived. And then somewhere, this Minga marching through the streets of Bogotá was also a vigil, in honor of all those who died as a result of the internal conflict, especially in recent months, in the context of a pandemic that exacerbates all difficulties and inequalities. But the Minga is also a parade for life, as the joy that the public reflects suggests. So this series is intended as a very (very) modest tribute to Paul Fusco, who once said: "I want to take pictures of people that, when you see them, you can feel their lives".
