Shortly after our (the Chief Rollin' Rock and myself) encounter with
a broken bottle wielding El Senor Diablo in Merida, Venezuela,
(see 'The Narrative of the Voyage of the Bloody, Snake Chariot' at
www.libbyhome.blogspot.com) on the eve of the Venezuelan Presidential
Elections, we had the great honor and pleasure of meeting Nu and
Theresa, two graduated medical students who had begun their careers
in medicine in Colombia.
They loved Colombia. And Colombia loved them.
A place they strongly recommended to us was Villa de Leyva (an about
three hour bus trip north of Bogota).
It is the holy land of the Musca Indians, the center of their sun worshipping phallic, fertility cult. The place of Laguna Igueque where the Goddess Bacque was born in, rose from the waters.
When we arrived we were soon accepted by a gang of chess playing,
drunken, fucking lunatic, stoners, who were also poets, artists,
story-tellers and visionaries.
They said we were Volcan.
At first I thought they were talking about Mr. Spock and the planet
Vulcan. When we were playing chess their greatest complement for a
move or a strategy would be 'logico'.
But then it was explained to us that they called us Volcans because
we had 'the attitude', a posture of open, loving, generosity of
spirit, a posture of sincere friendship, a posture of seeking and
finding more life in life.
The history of Colombia is horrendous. A brutal, evil, greed-driven
conquest followed by bloody, insane civil wars. During one of these
national blood baths the United States stole Panama from Colombia.
In spite of this history, in spite of these circumstances the
Colombians often have the posture of Volcans. Unlike Venezuelans they
do not, they are not encouraged by their political leaders to work
the ultimately self-defeating historic resentment.
There are many desperately poor Colombians. They do the things that
desperate people do. Colombia can be a violent, dangerous place.
But Colombia is often a transcendently beautiful place peopled by
Volcans.