MSF Colombia ‘Riverographies of Baudó’ photo project

At the invitation of Médecins Sans Frontières/Doctors Without Borders (MSF), photographer Fernanda Pineda created an artistic project to document the reality of the armed conflict in Chocó, western Colombia, and the daily resistance of the Afro-Colombian and Indigenous communities of the Baudó River.

Fernanda Pineda Palencia / Photographer of the ‘Riverographies of Baudó’ project / @fernipineda

Where has the river taken us?

The beginning of a journey is always a leap into the unknown. But when that journey is along the Baudó River in Chocó (the Colombian Pacific), uncertainty turns to fear. Colombia is a country where violence and conflict are constant headlines. Hope fades as peace processes and agreements come and go, while in places like Chocó, a department in the west of the country, displacement, imprisonment, and massacres, exacerbated by state neglect, continue to be the norm.

I accepted the invitation of MSF, together with Silvia Parra, an expert in differential approaches (with a gender and with ethnic communities perspectives), to tell the story of Chachajo and Mojaudó, two Afro-descendant communities, and Puesto Indio, an Embera indigenous village; all of them located in the municipality of Alto Baudó. This had to be told through three concepts: health, territory and armed conflict. We knew that carrying out a photographic project there would be a challenge, not only because of the violence. Without electricity and internet, we were forced to return to the tangible, to think about the power of printed photography.

First stop: Chachajo

Chachajo is the name of a beautiful tree. It is also the name of a village that relies on agriculture, raising pigs and chickens; a village of wooden houses built by families who, despite being forced off their land, keep coming back because there is no place in the world that belongs to them anymore. There is a deep wound in this village, a wound that they try to heal with songs and herbs.

"Healing with herbs is a tradition that the elders taught the young people, and the young people, when they had their families, taught their children what they knew," says María Concepción, the oldest healer in the community.

The tradition of healing with plants is part of children's learning in Chachajo. Due to the armed conflict and the few opportunities for study and work, many parents leave the area and they are left to be looked after by their grandparents. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
The tradition of healing with plants is part of children's learning in Chachajo. Due to the armed conflict and the few opportunities for study and work, many parents leave the area and they are left to be looked after by their grandparents. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
The Afro-descendant community of Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó, has experienced multiple mass displacements to Quibdó (capital of the department) due to incursions by armed groups. During one such incident the community was gathered on the local soccer field. Many were wounded during this attack and several of their leaders were killed.
The Afro-descendant community of Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó, has experienced multiple mass displacements to Quibdó (capital of the department) due to incursions by armed groups. During one such incident the community was gathered on the local soccer field. Many were wounded during this attack and several of their leaders were killed.
Some men, like Victoriano Córdoba (74-years-old), also keep alive the practices of healing through plants, massages and prayers; knowledge passed down from generation to generation. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Some men, like Victoriano Córdoba (74-years-old), also keep alive the practices of healing through plants, massages and prayers; knowledge passed down from generation to generation. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Traditional healer Carmen Fidela Mena, from the community of Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.
Traditional healer Carmen Fidela Mena, from the community of Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.
"Many years ago a doctor from Médecins Sans Frontières taught me how to suture. Sometimes there are no implements, and we have had to do it with dental floss. Chachajo is sick with fears. I am sure of that, because I, myself, live with that sickness," testimony of Carmen Fidela Mena.
"Many years ago a doctor from Médecins Sans Frontières taught me how to suture. Sometimes there are no implements, and we have had to do it with dental floss. Chachajo is sick with fears. I am sure of that, because I, myself, live with that sickness," testimony of Carmen Fidela Mena.
Carmen Fidela Mena, in Chachajo, stitched up a photograph of a soccer field where the community watched its leaders being killed. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Carmen Fidela Mena, in Chachajo, stitched up a photograph of a soccer field where the community watched its leaders being killed. Chachajo, Alto Baudó, Chocó.

Second stop: Mojaudó

What is left after bullets pierce a classroom?

Rays of light filter through the holes left by the explosions in the ceiling and draw lines on the blackboard. Books and calendars hang on the bullet-riddled walls. The little blue seats are still in the same place they were that day, as if the classroom has become a museum of horror, a wound that continues to bleed.

"It was about five to two in the morning when the shooting started. The bullets went through the ceiling, through the kitchen, you could hear the gunfire. At that hour of the morning, where are you going to run to? We threw ourselves on the floor, but what are you going to do on a wooden floor?" a midwife tells us.

Mojaudó is sick with fear. "Sometimes when a coconut or some other fruit falls on the roof, we think it's going to start all over again," said another midwife.

In November 2023, while more than 14,000 people were confined in Alto Baudó, the confrontation between two armed groups at the Mojaudó school caused the entire community to be forcibly displaced. Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
In November 2023, while more than 14,000 people were confined in Alto Baudó, the confrontation between two armed groups at the Mojaudó school caused the entire community to be forcibly displaced. Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
The school of the Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó is still intact, but with bullet holes in the walls, ceiling, whiteboard and teaching materials; after a confrontation between two armed groups. The children have not returned to study at the school.
The school of the Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó is still intact, but with bullet holes in the walls, ceiling, whiteboard and teaching materials; after a confrontation between two armed groups. The children have not returned to study at the school.
In 2023, violence in the department of Chocó, in western Colombia, forced more than 40,000 inhabitants into forced confinement, limiting their access to basic services. Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
In 2023, violence in the department of Chocó, in western Colombia, forced more than 40,000 inhabitants into forced confinement, limiting their access to basic services. Afro-descendant community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Traditional healer Margarita Rojas Mena, from the community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures.
Traditional healer Margarita Rojas Mena, from the community of Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures.
"I cure the eye, the evil of the nation (of birth)... I have my herbs on the rooftop and I use them for everything. When the school thing happened, we left and a few days later we returned. The teacher does not teach there anymore because the school was destroyed by the bullets," says Margarita Rojas Mena. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
"I cure the eye, the evil of the nation (of birth)... I have my herbs on the rooftop and I use them for everything. When the school thing happened, we left and a few days later we returned. The teacher does not teach there anymore because the school was destroyed by the bullets," says Margarita Rojas Mena. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Margarita Rojas Mena, in Mojaudó, stitched up the photograph of the community school, wounded by bullets from an armed confrontation. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Margarita Rojas Mena, in Mojaudó, stitched up the photograph of the community school, wounded by bullets from an armed confrontation. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Margarita Rojas Mena, in Mojaudó, stitched up the photograph of the community school, wounded by bullets from an armed confrontation. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Margarita Rojas Mena, in Mojaudó, stitched up the photograph of the community school, wounded by bullets from an armed confrontation. Mojaudó, Alto Baudó, Chocó.

Third stop: Puesto Indio

Ûnûnia is a word in the language of the local Indigenous Embera people. It means, “We will meet again”.

The river changes its color and becomes a mirror. The river is calm, and it is madness. It carries you, but it decides when you can navigate it. Who commands the river? Who tells it what it can and cannot do?

The river people respect it because they need it to survive in this jungle. Its water is indispensable, even if it is no longer clear, its course carries what consumption and waste have left behind. There we find a healer of the spirit.

"I was an assistant to my husband, who was a jaibaná (spirit healer). When we were displaced, my husband was gone and my children needed medicine. That's how I started my practice, and I'm the first woman jaibaná in these communities. The territory is sick. The violence here persecutes us and makes us sick," she told us.

At the beginning of this project, seven of us women—the project team—boarded the boat, together with the MSF logistic support team. We returned with seven photographs reconstructed by the healers. We left making the commitment to share their voices beyond the rivers, hoping to communicate their wisdom. We hope that this project, will bring them support, recognition and respect. We left, but they are still there, resisting, and healing wounded and forgotten communities.

House of the Jaibaná (healer of the Embera spirit) in the community of Puesto Indio. He is one of the main references for traditional health when the community has no other way to access formal health posts. His wife, Leticia, is one of the healers and midwives who takes care of life in the territory. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
House of the Jaibaná (healer of the Embera spirit) in the community of Puesto Indio. He is one of the main references for traditional health when the community has no other way to access formal health posts. His wife, Leticia, is one of the healers and midwives who takes care of life in the territory. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Nancy Arce (19-years-old) holds her son in her arms. Her partner, who was part of the Indigenous guard (civilian protection group) in Puesto Indio, was murdered months before the birth of the child. The family and wider community continue to fight to preserve his memory and to resist. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Nancy Arce (19-years-old) holds her son in her arms. Her partner, who was part of the Indigenous guard (civilian protection group) in Puesto Indio, was murdered months before the birth of the child. The family and wider community continue to fight to preserve his memory and to resist. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Photograph in the room of the husband of Nancy Arce, a murdered Indigenous guard. The fragments of paper on the floor are the last traces of his presence in this space. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Photograph in the room of the husband of Nancy Arce, a murdered Indigenous guard. The fragments of paper on the floor are the last traces of his presence in this space. Indigenous community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó.
Jaibaná (healer of the spirit) Dilia, from the community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each female healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.
Jaibaná (healer of the spirit) Dilia, from the community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each female healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.
"The violence around here haunts us and makes us sick," says the jaibaná (healer of the spirit) Dilia. In Puesto Indio, she stitched up with palm leaves a photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
"The violence around here haunts us and makes us sick," says the jaibaná (healer of the spirit) Dilia. In Puesto Indio, she stitched up with palm leaves a photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
The jaibaná Dilia (healer of the spirit), in Puesto Indio, sutured with palm leaves the photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
The jaibaná Dilia (healer of the spirit), in Puesto Indio, sutured with palm leaves the photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
The jaibaná Dilia (healer of the spirit), in Puesto Indio, sutured with palm leaves the photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
The jaibaná Dilia (healer of the spirit), in Puesto Indio, sutured with palm leaves the photograph of the empty room of a member of the Indigenous guard who was killed. Palm fiber is often used for weaving baskets, an activity that has a strong relationship with the health of the mind and spirit.
María Leticia, in Puesto Indio, chose to work on a photograph of herself. Not only did she heal herself but she put a protective collar around her neck. Women's bodies are also wounded territory. "More than 34 children have been born in my hands. My mother taught me that I was the great teacher. Midwifery is health. Having a full stomach is health," María Leticia's testimony.
María Leticia, in Puesto Indio, chose to work on a photograph of herself. Not only did she heal herself but she put a protective collar around her neck. Women's bodies are also wounded territory. "More than 34 children have been born in my hands. My mother taught me that I was the great teacher. Midwifery is health. Having a full stomach is health," María Leticia's testimony.
Traditional midwife Carmen María Leticia, from the community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.
Traditional midwife Carmen María Leticia, from the community of Puesto Indio, Alto Baudó, Chocó. In Riverographies of Baudó, seven healers and midwives symbolically healed the wounds of their territory. Each woman healer tore an image of the place she wanted to heal and then, in the same way she has kept her community healthy, applied herbs and sutures to heal it.

‘Riverographies of Baudó’ is a photographic project by Fernanda Pineda and MSF that shows the effects of the armed conflict and the institutional gaps in humanitarian response in the Alto Baudó sub-region. MSF, an independent medical-humanitarian organization present in Colombia since 1985, has been developing an ethnic-community health model there for three years.

Kate Lee

 

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