The People You Meet | Margarita

Eyes that tell of a soul on fire eight decades in, sparkling enough to be the first thing you see and emit their own energy. Married at 18, by choice, to a man more than two decades her senior, she was happy. She lived life her own way, and after his passing met and remarried (incredibly defiant to the ordinary for Boyacense women) to her current husband, the man pictured here. And, she continues. Happy. Living life on her own terms. 

I meet her after a long Jeep ride up ferociously steep hills ended at a cul-de-sac, then a 10 minute walk down a narrow path, the weeds and grasses flattened down to reveal it only by the many times it’s been traipsed, revealed a farm siting tucked into a hillside overlooking pig farms and fronds in the valley below – a town a couple kilometers away, the closest, too. Positioned on a low wooden bench in the open air section of their clay home, hands moving rhythmically as strands of wicker extending from the plate in progress dance across the floor, is Margarita. 

When I ask if I can take her picture her emphatic yes, chuckle, and posture is of a woman who knows and values her worth. A women who takes up space and knows that gift. It’s a powerful moment I’ll hold for a long time. 

The people of this region are known for their outstanding hospitality and hard work. By now, I stand sipping passion fruit juice expelled from the maracuyá lovingly brought up from the surrounding soil and squeezed, before my eyes, as I learn Margarita walks very little for her deeply painful arthritis. She leaves the house once a year. When asked how she climbs such a hill and navigates such a path, she says only that she takes her time… it’s disbelief for me. I know most of my peers wouldn’t even be able to easily walk such a route if they had to. 

Her husband sits down next to her and starts weaving as well. It’s nothing short of a private show that to witness I feel is the biggest privilege. They smile and chat, but mostly work in silence. A small spring, the dancing grasses, chickens talking – are all you hear. In an hour two more plates are finished. The lot of 12, grasses cultivated, cut, refined, smoothed, wet, then woven – 50 + hours of work – sell for $3. That’s enough they say. That’s all they need.