Simiki: The Indigenous Boy I Met in Colombia
“One time I was sleeping and a snake was around my neck…” – Simiki
**Note: The Kogi people are some of the last few surviving descendants of the Tairona, an ancient civilization dating back to the pre-Columbian era, who escaped colonial persecution by retreating to the isolated mountains of Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in northern Colombia where they continue to thrive today.
I encourage you to learn more about the Kogi community here.
Source: Onaway
I lay in the hammock, with my legs poking out, watching as the orange sun set over the luscious Colombian mountains.
That’s when Simiki tickled my knee.
Startled, I sat up to see who did that. Because who on earth would tickle a stranger’s knee?
I noticed a boy running off, laughing. In a glimpse, I caught his tanned skin, his long, black, straight hair, and pure white cotton clothing, with a brown mochila bag hanging across his body. If I’m not mistaken, his clothing was the traditional attire of the Kogi community in Colombia.
Minutes later he returned, seemingly imitating an animal. I said in Spanish:
“Hey! I remember you. You tickled my knee! You made me giggle. What’s your name?
“Adrian. Adrian is my Spanish name. My real name is Simiki.”
“Ah, that’s beautiful. I prefer Simiki. Can I call you Simiki?”
He nodded with a smile. Was it because no one really opted to call him by his Indigenous name?
“And how old are you, Simiki?”
“I don’t know.”
My guess was around seven years old.
“Simiki, after you tickled me, were you imitating a dog?”
“Hahaha no! I was a black cat! Like this.”
And that was how I met Simiki, the Indigenous boy from the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta Mountains in Colombia. The boy who inspired me to encourage a child's sense of wonder and understanding of the natural world.
Visiting Simiki’s Village
I’d heard of Simiki before meeting him.
The receptionist at the hostel where I was staying told me about the Indigenous boy, with a big personality, from a nearby village that often visits the hostel.
The boy speaks Spanish thanks to his frequent visits and pranking the staff and tourists at the hostel. However, his family does not speak Spanish as they keep more to themselves. Therefore, the boy will often act as a translator between the two groups of people.
Seeing my curiosity about the boy and his community, the receptionist suggested I visit his village – apparently they didn’t mind tourists. (Odd, I thought, because I would find that annoying.)
Trusting the advice, three of us made the 12-minute trek from the hostel to Simiki’s village consisting of about 5-7 huts.
I thought of Simiki trekking these mountains in the dark by himself. Without fear. I, on the other hand, feared. Especially the venomous serpents I’d been warned about by the receptionist.
(It was amazing to me that here was an Indigenous child walking through the mountains alone by day and by night. Meanwhile, in a western city, a parent would be afraid of a child playing at home or in a park by themselves.)
Eventually, we arrived at the village just as Simiki was leaving his hut without a shirt on. Upon hearing our voices, a man inside the hut (presumably his father) called Simiki back into the hut to put on a shirt.
When Simiki came back out wearing his shirt, I asked:
“Hi Simiki, do you remember me? You tickled my knee! Is this where you live?”
“Yes, in that hut with my family.”
From that moment, my questions began and fortunately Simiki was gracious enough to answer them.
Understanding Plants & How to Kill a Snake
Simiki ripped lemongrass from the ground and ran to put it under our noses to smell. He said lemongrass was used for cooking.
He also made us smell plants that he did not know the Spanish names of. He showed us which plants were for medicine, which ones were for cooking and which ones were for juicing.
After a while, his aunt caught him pulling plants from the ground. Looking annoyed, she came over to speak with him in their native language.
“What did she say?” I asked Simiki.
“Nothing.”
“Are you in trouble for showing us the plants?”
“Yes.”
“Should we leave?”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, and in respect for Simiki, we walked away from his village. I felt sad. Were we the bad people? Did he get in trouble for speaking to tourists and teaching us their way? Or because you don’t rip plants from the ground for no reason?
Fortunately, we’d been talking with Simiki for a while before he got caught meddling with the land.
Simiki had shown us the tree he loved to hang from “like a monkey.” He climbed it all the time until one day he fell and injured himself. His family cut down the branch but kept the tree.
He also showed us where they grew their food (on a slope a few meters from the huts), how they picked cotton, and even where his father was bathing himself. Amusingly, Simiki felt it necessary to tell me that I wasn't permitted to watch his father bathe.
“Of course not! Absolutely not. We don’t want to see him bathe,” I confirmed.
Then, curious about the wildlife around, I asked:
“Are you afraid of the snakes nearby?”
“Yes, but my dad can kill them. One time I was sleeping and a snake was around my neck while I was sleeping. My dad came and whoosh whoosh whoosh killed the snake,” he said while imitating the way his dad supposedly butchered the snake.
Whoaaa. I was intrigued.
Did Simiki feel the snake creep up on him? Did he wake up when his dad was killing the snake or was he already awake? How does one kill a venomous snake without getting poisoned? What do you do with the body of a dead snake?
Also, was this fact or the imagination of a boy trying to trick strangers?
Losing Touch with Nature Means Losing Touch with Reality
Simiki had open cuts and bruises throughout his tanned body. They were in his face, all over his legs, and arms too. Still, he went on with the business of exploring the world around him, while his parents went on with the business of trusting the healing powers of plants and the wisdom of a child’s body.
In many ways, Simiki was like every child – bruised up, curious, playful and chatty. But he was also different. Extremely different. He was calm, more mature, and confident of himself and the world around him. At the estimated, ripe age of seven.
He was more knowledgeable about his environment than the average adult too.
He understood well which plants to eat, how food was grown, how to move in the forest, trek mountains, and kill snakes. The trees were his friends and the animals his inspiration. His world was big.
Which reminds me how out of touch with the natural world children in the Western world are.
They spend each day touching plastic toys whose increasing price impoverishes their parents, smelling cleaning supplies that sicken their immune systems, eating industrialized foods that weaken them, and play within the confines of four walls or the car or the screen.
They must overcome walls, cars, and traffic just to enjoy fresh air and freedom. It is no wonder so many children are anxious, floating by, losing touch with reality.
Simiki on the other hand had easy access to nature. Even the floor of his hut was bare earth. All he had to do was open the door of his hut and he was free. He could explore the mountains at the whim of his boredom. He could pursue his awe by day or night. He could be a child in all his glory – completely unbound.
His parents liberated Simiki to discover on his own – and trusted him – because that’s what love does. It liberates. It does not bind.
Simiki’s Legacy
Simiki will forever live in my mind. In some way, I feel changed by him. Maybe because he came to me as I began to think about having children. Or maybe because I felt reconnected to my own Indigenous roots simply by being in his presence and learning from him.
After leaving Simiki, I told myself:
“If and when I have children, I promise to remember what Simiki’s life was like. To trust my child. To encourage autonomy from a young age. To teach them to preserve the traditional way of life. To teach them about the natural world and their relationship within it. And most importantly, that our identity starts and ends with nature. I will not coddle them in fear. Instead I will liberate them to explore beyond the walls of over protection that we so often impose.”
As we made the trek back towards the hostel, we wondered about Simiki’s future and worried about it.
Simiki spent a lot of time visiting the hostel and speaking with tourists. Why was that? Did his world feel too small? Did his traditions and way of life seem too basic and boring compared to the tourists he was meeting at the hostel? Did the grass seem greener on the other side?
When he finally becomes a young man, what will he choose?
Will he stay in his village, ensuring the survival of his people and culture? Or, will he venture further than the hostel, to the big city, and be absorbed by a culture that nearly destroyed his own?
The choice will be his to make but the consequences will be huge. For all of us.
QUOTES.
“The earth is a living body. It has veins and blood. Damaging certain places is like cutting off a limb. It damages the whole body.” – The Kogi
“Younger Brother must listen and stop causing damage or nature herself will finish us off.” – The Kogi
WATCH.
From the Heart of The World - The Elder Brother's Warning on YouTube.
“In a desperate attempt to prevent further ecological catastrophe and destruction, the Kogi Mamos broke their silence and allowed a small BBC film crew into their isolated mountaintop civilization to hear their message and warning to Younger Brother. The subsequent messages and warnings were voiced in the documentary. After the documentary was filmed, the Kogi Mamos returned to their work in isolation and asked outsiders not to come to their land.”
READ.
Photographs of Colombia’s Kogi Community.
In this article, Théo de Gueltzl captures the population's spiritual relationship with nature and the earth and shares some stunning photos along the way.
Wonderful post, Ayelen! Thank you for sharing Simiki’s story.