When I first interviewed Margarita, I was surprised by how natural she was in front of the camera. She was an open book, generous in her answers and eager to show herself to an audience. She surprised me by sharing an incredibly intimate story about her family; however, the story was not only (or even primarily) hers to tell. I struggled with whether or not I could ethically include the story, about her sister, Marina, in this documentary without Marina’s permission.
I found that it did not feel right without Marina’s perspective. I asked to interview her as well, and the story became about the sisters as a unit, and how they’ve deal with their hardships. As Margarita says, every paisa family has been touched by violence. We all deal with trauma differently, and these two women are examples of this.
This story made me think about the arbitrariness of life; we have little to no control over the things that happen to us. We can only control how we react, and how we interact with each other. This city, Medellín, is made up of all sort of stories of loss, gain, rebirth, triumph. There is little black and white anywhere; this story is no different.
Chrislyn Choo
This week, I am thankful for the opportunity to introduce you to someone who has become a dear friend to me here in Medellín. When I first met Santiago two weeks ago at a World Cup watch party, I was immediately captivated by his joie de vivre - su alegría de vivir, his buoyant enjoyment of life. His exuberance to share everything he knew about sports, language, and dramatic impressions left me with the strong feeling that Santiago Ramirez Rios has a story just waiting to be told.
In this portrait, Santiago offers candid insight into the influence of urban space on people’s mindsets and behavior. While five minutes cannot capture the entirety of our eighty-four-minute conversation, I hope to communicate the realistic optimism that shone through the stories he shared with me about his city, family, community service, and personal aspirations. “I think that sadness is like infermedad (sickness),” he confided. "When you start to be sad everyday, you’re going to make people be sad too…and happy is the same thing, you know? If you try to be happy everyday, you’ll be happier and happier. At the same time, some people think that I’m maybe too much fun. Everybody thinks that I’m going to take everything like a joke. But when people start talking to me, like the real Santiago, they realize that I have a really deep side, and that’s because I have had bad experiences.”
If you asked me to describe him a week ago, I would have dubbed him an insightful jokester. After being invited into his story, I now know he is that, and more - honest, clear-sighted, hopeful. He has witnessed inequality and tragedy that no one should have to live with, but rather than allowing the brokenness he sees to dishearten him, his experiences now motivate him to thoughtfully change the way his city shapes the lives of its people.
Elena Elliott
Ishani Purohit
Nathaniel Sizemore
Rekha Korlipara
Before I applied for DukeEngage Colombia, I had an entirely different picture of Medellín than what I have witnessed since arriving here. When talking about Medellín, teachers in high school focused on violence and drug trafficking; the two main things that stick out in my memory are the FARC and Pablo Escobar. It took only a couple of hours, though, for me to see that the city is much more than its history. Don Orlando, a friend of the program who drove us from the airport, at the top of an Andes mountain, to Medellín, in the valley, was warm and welcoming. My host mom greeted us with enthusiasm and hugs, the waiters at the first restaurant were kind and hospitable—even the Customs officials were sort of nice. It was immediately clear that Paisas (people who live in this area of Colombia) are a good-natured and affectionate bunch. There are obviously exceptions to this, but I have found that Paisas as a whole are more open, friendly, and—something that I personally love—relaxed than any other group I have encountered. My previous conception of Medellín as a dangerous city, filled with violence and narco-trafficking, has been replaced with the belief that this is a city defined not by its unfortunate history, but by its rebirth. Medellín is a city of art, of festivals, of food—and, most importantly, of good people. Problems still exist here, but problems exist everywhere. The city is continually progressing, and I hope that it will soon reach a state where the first words that come to mind when thinking of Medellín are ‘art’ and ‘beauty’ rather than ‘violence’ and ‘drugs.’ And one thing I have found from speaking to Millenials here is that they have the same wish.
I heard somewhere that much of the younger population does not feel as affected by Medellín’s history as people in other countries often think. That is, Generation Y does not feel defined by the problems created and experienced by Generation X. My friend, Ana, explains some of the sentiments of our generation in this video.
Sandy Ren
