CHAPTER NINE
EMPOWERMENT THROUGH ETHNOEDUCATION IN A DISEMPOWERING CONTEXT:
“SER ALGUIEN EN LA VIDA”
AND THE COLOMBIAN WAYUU1
ESTEBAN FERRERO BOTERO
Introduction
“Un jóven que se educa es una generación que se salva”
(A youngster becoming educated is saving a generation)
—Written in one of the classrooms in Siapana
For the last four to five decades and after a long-fought Indigenous
struggle, global discourses of “equal rights” (Altamirano-Jiménez 2010,
194; Mosknes 2005, 585) and the constitutional recognition of “indigeneity”
have made Indigenous identity be, at some levels, “empowering”
throughout Latin America. Educación propia2 has been one of the core
issues at stake in the struggle of Indigenous peoples, as they aim to
empower their identity and achieve self-determination, while becoming
citizens of Latin American nation-states. In order to understand how these
1
This chapter is based on my BS Honors Thesis as an anthropology student at
Montana State University–Bozeman, and it has a complementary manuscript
focusing on the state agenda of “differential homogenization” and an analysis of
classes in the Internado of Siapana that is currently under review for publication. I
would like to thank the Undergraduate Scholars Program at MSU and the Montana
Academy of Sciences for their economic support; Dr. Laurence Carucci and Dr.
Tomomi Yamaguchi for their advising; and Drs. Kristin Yarris, Jonathan
Friedman, and Christine Hunefeldt, and my colleague Katherine Collins, at UC–
San Diego, for reading and commenting on my essay.
2 Autonomous Indigenous education. Other similar efforts include bilingual
education and ethno-education.
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new forms of “empowerment” and citizenship take shape, are lived, and
function locally, it is very useful to place the ethnographic work within
this new experienced and constitutional positionality. 3 In addition, an
analysis in this context can tell us much about how these experiences may
fit into the overall creation of a multicultural nation-state. In Colombia, as
it will be briefly explored in this paper, part of this “empowerment” stems
from the support and push for modernity and inclusion of the Indigenous
by the state. In this case, these efforts are materialized through the
provision of ethno-education that has as one of its results the
commoditization of Indigenous culture. Ethno-education, from this
perspective, follows a state agenda that re-creates an Indigenous identity
that is in accord with building a modern strong, productive, and efficient
state within a global economy, while it is locally conceptualized as one of
the main mechanisms to achieve local self-determination and to overcome
a sense of historical victimization, inferiority, and loss of culture.
Based on an ethnographic study in a Colombian Wayuu educational
Internado (boarding school) and its surrounding rancherias,4 this essay
briefly discusses the process and analyzes the effects of “differential
homogenization,” as part of the state project of creating an Indigenous
subject in a multicultural nation through ethno-education. Furthermore, it
intends to elucidate how this process and its effects are reconfigured by the
students, their families, and the Wayuu teachers of the Internado of
Siapana in a way that becomes a source of personal empowerment
structured within an Indigenous struggle for self-determination and the
push of state ideals of development. The analysis of this form of
empowerment is carried out through the process by which individuals––
and the community as a whole––develop the idea that the world in which
they now live, aided by the opportunities provided by the state to “ser
alguien en la vida” (to become someone in life) will allow them to have
control over their own present and future, while redeeming the failures of
the past. Understood within the context of building a multicultural
Colombia, this process serves to instill the mystified idea of hope and
possibility that, through ethno-education, Siapana students and their
community can become self-determinant, even if the actual realization of
their goals may often seem unlikely. Therefore, “ser alguien en la vida”
serves the process of this national development that, at one level, redefines
what it means to be Indigenous, and on another, indoctrinates marginal
3
See Pineda Camacho (1997) for a short and fine historical account of the
construction of indigeneity within the Colombian state and a new vision through its
new Constitution.
4 Local family dwellings.
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
173
subjects to believe in and subscribe to the national and global socioeconomic
and political system, while becoming part of it as empowered citizens.
Ethno-Education as a Modern Creation
in a Multicultural Nation-State
It is not my intention to understand the processes by which Colombia
became multicultural or to analyze its relationship with the development of
ethno-education (see Castillo 2011 for a short review of this history of
ethno-education). Instead, it is more productive for the argument of this
paper to understand the dynamics of an ethno-educative institution, and to
think of this type of education as a state disciplinary mechanism that has
significant but not determinant effects on Indigenous individuals. Without
going into complicated theories of dependency or the global political
economy, Colombia as a whole, like most Latin American countries, can
be analyzed under a struggle to propel an economy broken up by the
conflicts of colonial history and its effects, which include constant civil
war, political disagreement, and an unfavorable position within the global
economy. Due to this, the Colombian government is faced with the need to
become a modern and competent nation-state within the global capitalist
market that, though always influenced by global and international
processes and forces, aims to foster economic productivity while taking
into account the social reality existing within and outside of its borders.
The push for modernity helps explain the focus on ethno-education as
well as the arrival of other projects of development into La Guajira, where
the Wayuu live. Modernity obliges nations to adapt to a world economy
that, ideally, follows political European patterns and ideas of accumulation
of wealth to achieve “progress” (Asad 1992, 334-5). Nations become
modern through a gradual and slow process. In order for this transformation
to occur, it is necessary to create both an ideology of modern statehood as
a desired objective for the nation-state and a social structure that allows
that modern state to exist (Asad 1985, 31). According to Talal Asad,
taking into account the ideas of Michel Foucault and Alisdair MacIntyre,
this social change has to occur within the dialectical reconstruction of the
present and future, tradition and modernity, and by the processes of
resistance and acceptance. People reformulate and live their everyday lives
as they reflect on the past, which makes the present intelligible, and links
people in a society in time and space. The past and global forces may
place a structural constraint on what is possible and doable. However, at
the micro level, unique meaningful and local histories are being created
(allowing slow change) despite the power of modernity (Mahmood 2005,
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113-6; Asad 2008; Asad 1985). As a result, modernizing a country
necessitates a method that adapts to the global context through Western
institutions, that deals in similar ways with social struggles, and that
transforms local ideology into a modern one. This is achieved through the
slow re-creation of what is locally meaningful while taking into account
the past, present, and future. Therefore, education, or in this case ethnoeducation, serves as an ideal mechanism towards actualizing modernity.
Colombia’s social reality includes an extensive ethnic diversity, of
which over three percent are Indigenous peoples who belong to eightyseven ethnic groups and speak sixty-four different languages (Dane 2007,
37). Thus, the national project includes “making sense of” this diversity
which comes with a long history of Indigenous mobilization and claims
for rights, both nationally and internationally. Accordingly, the Colombian
state––as most of Latin America––has conceptualized a multicultural
country that recognizes and includes ethnic diversity while, simultaneously,
develops an internal capitalist and democratic system that provides the
same opportunity for “all” (see Andion et al. 2009; Kowal 2008). As a
result of its joint work with the Indigenous social sector, this recognition
and inclusion also means a re-vindication for Indigenous peoples through
political participation and possibilities for self-determination (Gros 2000,
Chapter four). As it can be seen by analyzing the current Indigenous
struggle for territory in Latin America, however, this does not mean that
these modern liberal and neoliberal ideals have materialized (see
Martinez-Novo 2011 for a reflection on this actualization in the cases of
Mexico and Ecuador).
Nevertheless, this way of dealing with ethnic diversity has been a
common international political tendency. According to Emma Kowal
(2008, 338), dealing with ethnic differences is the task of liberal
multiculturalism. Others theorists, such as Will Kymlicka (1995) and
Charles Taylor (1994), expand this idea by stating that multiculturalism
aims to recognize the rights of those who are a minority and culturally
different, and maintaining those differences over time while coming to
agreement with the rights of being a national citizen. That is, the creation
of a conditional recognition that tolerates cultural practices as long as they
do not affect individual freedoms (Kowal 2008, 338) or significantly alter
social and political power. Multiculturalism is essentially a postmodern
creation in democratic and liberal states that, discursively and in theory,
aims to reduce inequalities produced by colonial and postcolonial history.
Hence, multiculturalism is possible only when there is a shared discourse
of acceptance and support surrounding the idea of difference. However,
taking into account the arguments of Charles Hale (2002), this chapter
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
175
illustrates through an analysis of ethno-education and the lives of some
Wayuu students how multiculturalism in Latin America seems to
reproduce a system of social, cultural, and political inequality.
Nevertheless, in Colombia, as in countries with Indigenous populations
such as Australia (see Kowal 2008), the common discourse for recognition
is materialized as Westerners or non-Indigenous people accept the need of
accommodating Indigenous practices and forms of social life into the
larger society—a discourse that Kowal has described as part of a
“postcolonial logic.”
The vision of multiculturalism in states like Colombia may, at first
glance, look like a paradox. This is the case because although creating a
multicultural country is part of the state’s agenda, so is disciplining its
people, especially the more marginal ones, to make them conform to
certain core aspects of social and economic life. The process I have called
“differential homogenization” is a potential solution, I argue, that has
developed in Colombia and allows the creation of subjects and social
groups that are believers in and productive parts of the capitalist system
while, at the same time, are also “othered” or considered culturally
distinctive. Indigenous communities, such as the Wayuu in the Colombian
Guajira, become caught between these two seemingly opposite forces. On
the one hand, as part of the “homogenization” process, the Wayuu are
expected and disciplined to become Colombian citizens and adhere to the
system and laws that govern the country. Being a citizen will, in theory,
ensure the rights and benefits granted by the state. On the other hand, in
the process of “differentiation,” inhabitants need to be disciplined and
categorized into distinct groups. In a Foucaultian sense, this is a process of
organizing and ordering individuals into social and cultural spaces as well
as into differential categorizations (Foucault 1975, 197-99). The creation
of “resguardos indigenas” (Indigenous reservations) is one of the
mechanisms of this process. As stated, the focus of this chapter is not to
analyze this process of “differential homogenization” (for an in-depth
analysis see Ferrero Botero, n.d.), its mechanisms, or the diversity of its
work. Rather, the aim is to understand how this process has an effect on
the experienced reality of the Wayuu in a context of ethno-education.
To truly understand the importance of ethno-education in the state
agenda of “differential homogenization,” it is crucial to comprehend some
of the implicit effects of education. Taking a Marxist point of view, Paulo
Freire sees traditional education as a means to reproduce social and
hierarchical relations and that makes the educated individual a product of
those relations (Giroux 1985, xiii). In a Foucaultian sense, education is an
institution that serves as a disciplinary mechanism which, at the level of
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individuals, enables them to become integrated into the general demands
of the state, its laws, and social structure (Foucault 1975, 209, 222-24).
For Freire, education––especially public education lacking a focus on
teaching critical thinking––could then be seen as a way to reproduce the
capitalist relations of power wherein the oppressed or dominated have
limited, if any, opportunities for socioeconomic mobility. Thus, the
knowledge that the schooling provides and reproduces should not be seen
as objective, but rather as a reproduction of the dominant culture, its
biases, and its inherent social goals, which further alienates the oppressed
by teaching them to internalize and participate in their own oppression
(Giroux 1985, xiv-xix).
Ethno-education in Colombia was initially conceptualized as a
mechanism to compensate Indigenous populations for the wrongdoings of
the past while allowing them to be an autonomous but important part in
the development of a multicultural Colombia. The Indigenous struggle to
have “educación propia” pushed the state to develop a form of education
that was meant to “recover everything” Indigenous, while taking into
account the local worldview and necessities. As a result, the Ministry of
National Education (MEN), borrowing an idea from Mexico, developed
ethno-education (Vasco Uribe 2004, 67-68; see Baronnet 2008; Cardona et
al. 1997; Güémez et al. 2008; Jackson 1995; Kuper 1991; Luykx 1999 for
a variety of other studies on Indigenous education). Ideally, ethnoeducation in Colombia is a system and process in which a group of people
(mostly Indigenous communities but also other ethnic minorities)
internalize and develop certain knowledge that is in accord with their own
local characteristics, needs, and cultural interests in order to allow them to
successfully adapt to a context––in this case the Colombian sociocultural
and economic context while strengthening their own local identities.
Though the participation of local authorities is fundamental to ensure the
addition of local ideology (Artunduaga 1997), it is not surprising that in
reality, or at least as it is experienced in Siapana, education is skewed
towards the embracing of hegemonic alijuna (non-Wayuu) knowledge and
ways of life.
Siapana: A Case Study of Ethno-Education
The “Institución Etnoeducativa Integral Rural Internado Indígena de
Siapana,” or Internado of Siapana, is located in the semi-arid region of
“La Alta Guajira” in northern Colombia. As an educative institution,
Siapana serves well the goals of modernity. The Internado was founded in
1991 with about fifty students who lived in the nearby rancherías where
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
177
the Wayuu live and work. Ines, a teacher in Siapana who was among these
first few students, narrates the humble and underdeveloped beginnings of
this school. At first, Siapana only offered primary education, but after
some time it was upgraded to seventh grade. With the help of some
alijuna, such as Paula, and negotiations with the Colombian government,
Siapana was eventually able to acquire an entire “Bachillerato.”5 Siapana
went from hosting fifty “internos”6 to about two hundred, with an overall
student population of almost one thousand. The infrastructure of the
school has also improved, and today enjoys more modern classrooms, with
a wall enclosing the school, and with a cell phone antenna. “These are
exciting times,” Paula stated repeatedly, telling me that by this time—
August of 2010—Siapana was for the first time near having a complete set
of teachers. Prospects of development and modernity through the
Internado were in the minds of all the Wayuu of Siapana I encountered.
Siapana, therefore, presents a particularly interesting case because its stage
of development provides a clearer picture of the kind of ideas being taught
and the more active engagement in creating an institution that, at least
discursively, meets the needs of its local population and takes into account
the flaws of other similar educative institutions.
Despite the local efforts of creating a Wayuu ethno-educative
curriculum,7 the methodologies and the books used in Siapana ignore a
great deal of Wayuu history, culture, and worldview. On the contrary, with
the exception of Wayuu culture and language, the classes—including
mathematics, biology, social science, and chemistry—are based on
scientific and western perspectives, and focus on making Wayuu students
aware and proficient of the alijuna world and knowledge (Ferrero-Botero,
n.d.). An important focus of this ethno-educative school is to teach
students the necessary social and academic skills to live out in the alijuna
world. Thus, classes about entrepreneurship are part of the curriculum.
Similarly, ideas of individualism are encouraged in many activities and
classes. For example, Catholic seminars and classes, such as “proyecto de
vida” and “desarrollo humano”8 focus on knowing oneself, developing a
personal relationship with God, and being able to “salir adelante” (get
ahead). Paula tells me that the objective, as it is expressed by “salir
adelante” (literally to “go out and forward”), is to form good individuals
who know who they are and can someday come back to La Guajira as new
5
Secondary school.
Students who study in Siapana and live in its dormitories.
7 Among these efforts, the anaa akwa’ipa curriculum, developed by the Wayuu
professor Remedios Fajardo and others, is one of the most well known.
8 “Life project” and “human development seminars.”
6
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leaders and bring development. It is important to make clear that this is not
necessarily a type of individualism where the students are pushed or learn
to worry about their own selves, fostering competition among themselves.
Rather, as a result of the difficult situation of pursuing further academic
goals that the students face after graduation, the hope is placed into those
few students who do go out to become “alguien en la vida” while the
community expects they will come back to La Guajira.
Though education is available for all youth in Siapana, the reality is
that only a few students can attend, fewer are able to graduate, and the
greatest minority goes to college. Antonio is one of those promising
students who graduated from Siapana and currently attends college. He
claims that he has achieved this status because he has taken advantage of
the opportunities given to him and the teachers’ knowledge, even if these
were few. Through working, studying hard, and much sacrifice, Antonio
explains, he has risen above the other students and has achieved his goals.
Although Paula, Jorge, and other teachers claim that the main objective of
education is to help “develop” the local community (Siapana), they also
agree that this is achieved through the creation of successful leaders who
can work hard and can focus on helping the rest of the community by
returning to Siapana and applying the knowledge learned in alijuna
institutions.
The argument here is not that the students are learning totally different
structures of feeling and thinking, since that would ignore the historical
interaction between the alijuna and the Wayuu; nor is the argument that
the alijuna and the Wayuu cultures are fundamentally different, though for
many Wayuu and alijuna they may indeed be. Rather, the objective is to
point out the kinds of ideas inculcated, reified, standardized, and
essentialized as the knowledge required for students in Siapana to be
successful, according to the teachers and the state, in the world the
students find themselves in—a more modern and alijuna-like world. This
new world is one of the reasons why, even though it is an ethno-educative
institution, there is a greater emphasis on sciences, entrepreneurship, and
other alijuna classes which both students and their families have come to
believe are the key to take control over their own lives. Students’ parents,
like Luz and Gabriel, and most of Siapana, constantly expressed their
excitement since new alijuna—Sebastian, Marta, and I—were teaching in
Siapana. The explanation for this excitement was that the alijuna were
more capable to teach about the alijuna world and knowledge, the
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
179
necessary tools for the students to “desenvolverse,”9 go to college, and
“ser alguien en la vida.”
Ethno-Education: Empowerment Through Visibility
and the Overcoming of the Past
In order to understand the role of ethno-education in the lives of the
Wayuu of Siapana, it is useful to think about the history behind their
narratives. It is not the goal of this chapter to provide a historical account
of the Wayuu and how certain social problems have been formed (for
some accounts see Plaza Calvo 2006; Echeverri Zuluaga 2002, 2003;
Purdy 1987; Hernandez 1984). However, let it be sufficient to say that the
disruptions brought by all the mining and state endeavors in La Guajira
paired with a sense of invisibility shaped by the imposition of these
projects and the ruling hand of the alijuna, points to and evidences a
historical memory of inferiority and victimization. Thus, this historical
memory, though it is taught and reinforced in the Internado (Ferrero
Botero, n.d.), is also rooted in a structural disempowering positionality
vis-à-vis the alijuna. Nevertheless, in Siapana, the acknowledgement of
blame for this struggle to the national state was marginal compared to
other explanations, which include the lack of juyá (rain) and the dynamics
of local politics.
There is evidence that suggests that the Wayuu experienced extended
droughts since the beginning of the twentieth century, which has possibly
made them more vulnerable to the influence of the alijuna (Echeverri
Zuluaga 2002, 28; Purdy 1987, 141, 144). The stories of these droughts—
or the absence of juyá—have become part of the historical memory, and
they could be seen as serving two purposes. First, this discourse explains
the Wayuu’s current quasi-dependence on the alijuna (global) market. And
secondly, when the alijuna are willing to provide aid to the Wayuu,
through state, NGO, or multinational social responsibility programs, this
discourse allows the Wayuu to avoid blaming the alijuna for local
problems, while, at the same time, places the Wayuu in a position of
external dependency.
Gloria, a Wayuu working in the Internado of Siapana, claims that in
the past every Wayuu grew crops and lived on a self-sufficient society.
However, the prolonged absence of juyá has forced the Wayuu to choose
what comes from or is created by the alijuna; that is, the Wayuu have to
work in and live by alijuna standards, creating dependency and “forcing”
9
Literally, to unravel or unwrap, meaning to get around in the world.
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the Wayuu to become laborers and earn money to obtain merchandise
from the West. Gloria states,
This entire place [Siapana] had crops; all this part of La Guajira was crops.
Before, the water was stored in the jagüey. Everybody worked, and there
was no need for machinery. For example, my parents and grandparents did
not need to do anything; they did not even need shampoo. Previously the
[Wayuu] people had everything. Now we get old very quickly, but my
grandmother died old. [People don’t choose those benefits] for the lack of
rain. The cactus is not the same; it is dried...so our world now is full of
‘frutiños.’10 The Wayuu before would not get sick, they did not know what
gastritis was…before, there was nothing of this.
The narrative of Fernando, the father of a student in Siapana, also
presents a discourse that links the absence of juyá to their disempowered
situation. In his narrative, Fernando also naturalizes the sense of inferiority
and historical victimization as part of the Wayuu progression towards
modernity, explaining why there is a need for development. Fernando
agrees that the absence of juyá has caused many problems, including the
death of many goats and cattle, which are the base of the most important
economic activity for the Wayuu for over three hundred years: pasturing.
For him, the history of the Wayuu begins with the primitive “indios”11
who have progressed, with the help of God,12 to the people they are today;
a Wayuu community that is meant to have all the scientific and
technological advances that the alijuna enjoy. Fernando describes how the
Wayuu were naked primitive humans who began wearing leather clothing
to cover their bodies. Following this stage, when the Wayuu learned how
to use cotton from the jungle,13 they used it for making textiles and
“mochilas,”14 which are necessary for harvesting. This process was halted
by the 1900s when Maleiwa (God) brought the drought as a punishment
for Wayuu misconduct: a state of constant murders, fights, and burning of
houses. Indeed, stories about how harsh the clan wars were in the past are
common among the Wayuu. But “Dios es sabio” (God is wise) and knows
what He is doing, Fernando states. “Now there is ‘desarrollo humano’”
(human development; mostly provided by the alijuna), which results from
10
An alijuna beverage made by mixing a fruity powder with water.
A word describing Indigenous peoples, generally having a negative connotation.
12 A Christian God, which is often called maleiwa in Wayuunaiki.
13 The jungle is a word often used to refer to La Serranía de la Makuira, a small
mountain range that supports more vegetation than the lowlands. It is a sacred
place located near Siapana and where some Wayuu still live.
14 Traditional bags.
11
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
181
the Wayuu’s inability to solve their own conflicts. Before the drought,
people needed to cultivate, harvest, and spend much time working to take
care of the animals. Now that La Guajira has “some development” (mainly
referring to some infrastructure and education) and receives some aid from
the neighboring country (Venezuela; also alijuna), Fernando comments,
the lives of the Wayuu are easier and better. Fernando emphasizes:
You don’t know what it is like having to walk with the animals until
reaching los filudos, sell [the animals], and then come back all in three
days. Everything was walking, and it was even harder during winter…. But
then, for the 1960s, the situation was improving. 1950s, 1940s, 1930s,
horrible. 1800s, then at 1700s, naked!
The narratives of Gloria and Fernando contain a crucial paradox. On
the one hand, they both agree with the importance of “development” for
their society, and as it will be explored, to “ser alguien en la vida.” On the
other hand, this “development” includes the notion that Wayuu
“traditional” culture will disappear or be changed by modernity, as many
Wayuu have experienced when they see others who have gone to alijuna
cities, such as Maracaibo, only to lose their Wayuuness. None of the
Wayuu I encountered (though I speculate there are many of them, mainly
living in the cities) expressed the wish to see their culture change or stop
being “traditional,” especially in the context of multiculturalism where
being Indigenous can bring some special benefits. Nevertheless, although
they did not want to lose their culture, many Wayuu felt that they were
actually losing it. I asked Luz, a mother of three children attending school,
whether she thought they were losing their culture, and she stated,
Yes, a lot! [We are] losing our culture because we don’t do or use our
customs as much: how one dresses, how one acts and presents oneself, how
one talks, the party and the dances, a lot of things…. This is bad…because
we should never lose our customs. Our culture should be first. [It can be
rescued] by teaching our kids, helping the teachers because they sometimes
don’t know about our culture, and teaching our kids so they don’t lose the
way things are, as their grandparents taught them.
In this context, ethno-education becomes justified for the Wayuu; it is
the resource that allows them to recuperate their culture and identity, a
necessary characteristic to gain economic benefits, social empowerment,
and the tools for progressing, solving social problems, and “ser alguien en
la vida.”
Ethno-education, therefore, has a very explicit crucial role for the
Wayuu of Siapana. At a personal level, ethno-education becomes a clear
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source of empowerment to overcome Wayuu’s self-image of historical
victims and inferiority, their lack of control over their own lives, and the
effects of a disempowering socioeconomic situation, all resulting from the
oppressive actions of the alijuna, the state, and the local multinational
companies. I heard from virtually every student and their parents that
education is what will allow each student to “ser alguien en la vida.” As
Luz says,
Our goal [with ethno-education] is that our Wayuu kids ‘salgan adelante,’
‘que sean alguien.’ More than just a Wayuu, we want them to do what
alijuna do, so we don’t have to look for alijuna when we need something;
we want them to be doctors, entrepreneurs, and be the future of the Wayuu.
As these comments suggest, ethno-education is meant to allow students
to “salir adelante” (to get ahead), meaning that they can improve their
disempowering situation and become more than “just a Wayuu.” The
frameworks of progress and “salir” (to get out) from a sense of inferiority
present in the Wayuu ethos are implicit in this narrative. As Gloria states,
I think that we benefit more from you guys [alijuna] than you guys do
from us. What would have become of us if we did not have this [education
and other alijuna benefits]? Ugly, we would be indios roaming around with
arrows in La Makuira, being chased, and without being adopted [by the
alijuna], so we could become conscious that we are people, that we are
humans that need to be educated.
The Wayuu feel so inferior in this context that it is the alijuna, the ones
responsible for the historical victimization of the Wayuu, who can make
the Wayuu conscious of their own humanity by teaching them good values
and how to “ser alguien en la vida.” Gloria recognizes that she could not
do anything in the Internado if she did not have the guidance of Paula and
other alijuna. The word “adoption,” as used by Gloria, clearly positions
the Wayuu as inferior and the alijuna as the paternal figure.
Without education, the Wayuu are left as “incomplete beings,” as
Enrique, a Wayuu teaching in Siapana, explains. Education is extremely
important for the generation above the students because most of them had
little to no education, which, in Fernando’s opinion, was what kept them
from taking advantage of their own opportunities. Fernando thinks the
elderly have historically suffered greatly because of their lack of alijuna
knowledge, allowing the alijuna to take advantage and marginalize the
Wayuu. But, because of ethno-education, the students—their sons and
daughters—have a brighter future. According to Sandra, a student from
Siapana,
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
183
Learning is to know everything that happens; things that happened before,
and learn new things and good knowledge that make us feel like people....
[My mom] wants me to get educated, like a person. She wants me to learn
about what she learned only a little bit; she wants me to ser alguien en la
vida” (emphasis mine).
Education in Siapana becomes so integral to a sense of self and identity
that is the mechanism that allows the Wayuu to achieve their potential.
Finally, “ser alguien en la vida” relates to improving social life in La
Guajira. “Todo es político acá” (everything is politics here) was a common
phrase uttered by many Wayuu living in La Guajira. It refers to the
blaming on politics for many ills in Wayuu social life, as it fosters selfish
actions in Wayuu leaders. The result of a recent loss of autonomy
combined with colonial and republican Colombian history have not only
left a deep sense of victimization and inferiority in the Wayuu; they have
also left political uncertainty, corruption, drug trafficking and guerrilla
violence, clientelism, a sense of underdevelopment, and distrust among the
Wayuu. Therefore, at a communal and social level, the Wayuu expect that
the knowledge, integrity, leadership skills, and agency gained through
ethno-education will create individuals capable of alleviating these
situations. These individuals are somehow expected to be able to bring
self-determination and self-sufficiency to the Wayuu communities. “Ser
alguien en la vida,” then, also becomes a discourse of hope for educating
individual leaders who can redeem the actions of those Wayuu who have
brought misery to La Guajira; it means hope for positive change,
community self-control, collective benefit, and progress through
modernity. This core concept is making one’s dreams come true and
achieving one’s goals through hard work, as Antonio thinks. For Antonio,
as for most students in Siapana,
Education is the most fundamental thing for the Wayuu because it allows
us to change and bring a better quality of life in La Guajira. [Education]
also helps us so we can later teach the same integral education. It is there
so we can become the main characters of our lives by planting the seed in
others and passing this information from generation to generation.
When Antonio was narrating his experiences studying in La
Universidad de Santo Tomas in Bucaramanga, he said that he trusted God
and believed that he himself had the ability to succeed in college. He knew
that he could demonstrate that he was as “good” as anybody else (any
alijuna). Therefore, he decided to become friends with the smartest student
in his college classes to learn from him and compare himself to him. By
the end of the semester, Antonio was participating in the class projects like
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everyone else and even helping other students. Antonio, one of the best
students Siapana has ever had, learned through this process that he can
actually “ser alguien en la vida” and be as “good” (efficient and intelligent)
as an alijuna.
Commoditization of Culture Through Teaching Traditional
Knowledge: Fitting An-“Other” Culture into the System
The commoditization of culture is a result of the commoditization of
social life and relations, especially as capitalism expands through
neoliberal policies and becomes embedded in the lives of Indigenous and
aboriginal peoples. Because of this tendency, it should not be surprising
that not only are people alienated, but they are also removed from their
ways of life and culture, as is the case for many ethnic communities. The
fact is that in many cases disempowered communities, such as the Wayuu,
and territories, such as Siapana, do not have much to offer to the national
economy. Nevertheless, with the need and push to include Indigenous
peoples into a multicultural nation-state while protecting their rights and
fostering economic growth, exotic places like Siapana do have something
to offer: Indigenous culture.
Ethno-education in Colombia is the joint result of state and Indigenous
peoples’ attempts to rehabilitate cultures that are considered to be
disappearing and people losing their inherent local knowledge. Ethnoeducation, thus, has become the way to “rescue” those disappearing
cultures and types of knowledge, in order to ensure the nation stays
multicultural. Only once this “traditional” culture is strengthened and
people are indoctrinated into being a homogenized “other” can these
communities perform their culture in a way that brings economic benefits
to the local communities—perhaps through tourism—and economic
productivity to the nation. In this process, the homogenized “other”
conserves and reproduces what makes this subject different (e.g.
“traditional”), but always adheres to other important aspects of national
social life.
Commoditization of culture has been documented among many
peoples, including Native North Americans. In places like Alaska, where
tourism and the heritage industry flourish, commoditization of culture has
had various effects, including the encouragement of cultural reproduction.
Through this process, only some aspects and features of the culture
deemed important become predominant, making them more likely to
become commoditized. The local cultural persona is also commoditized
since his/her values, attitudes, and knowledge is exchanged for economic
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
185
gain. However, this commoditization process is not only an economic
response to global expansion; it is also a politically motivated expression
of identity (Bunten 2008, 381). For example, among Alaskan Native
Americans, tourism, which is intrinsically related to the process of
commoditization of culture, serves as a strategy to employ identity politics
to ensure Indigenous rights, “such as retaining or reclaiming history,
control over representation, surface and subsurface land rights, and
political sovereignty” (Bunten 2008, 384). Sovereignty allows for claims
of authenticity, which, in turn, justifies local identity and gives value to the
cultural-touristic experience (Bunten 2008, 384). Without this claim of
authenticity, communities like the Wayuu would not be able to compete
and survive in the heritage industry, and it would highly diminish their
chances to defend their collective rights.
The commoditization of culture has been described as the “process by
which things come to be evaluated primarily in terms of their exchange
value, in a context of trade, thereby becoming goods” (Cohen 1988; cited
in Ruiz-Ballesteros and Hernández-Ramírez 2010, 211). It has been amply
debated among scholars of tourism whether a cultural item or ritual loses
meaning for the locals as it becomes a commodity, and whether locals are
losing their identity as a result (Ruiz-Ballesteros and Hernández-Ramírez
2010, 211). As will become evident, Siapana is an example of how an
Indigenous community may reshape and re-appropriate the local meanings
of culture that, rather than becoming lost, are transformed into objectified
knowledge that is used to redefine what it means to be Indigenous and, in
the case of Siapana, what it means to be a Wayuu and a human being.
The belief and feeling of “losing culture” contains two important
points. One is that the culture being “lost” is different from an
anthropological definition of culture. What some Wayuu interpret as
“losing culture” is not an inability to communicate, share, and understand
a set of common symbols used to perceive and function in the cultural
world; rather, it is a commoditized and objectified set of customs and
beliefs that have been deemed “traditional” by the alijuna and
appropriated by the Wayuu. It is the actual lack of “traditional” meaning
and usage attached to those customs and beliefs what makes many Wayuu
think and feel their culture is being “lost.” The ethnographic accounts
written by anthropologists have fostered this feeling since both alijuna and
Wayuu compare current ways of life with those over-determined recreations of “traditional” Wayuu culture. But the reality is that
ethnographies have already commoditized and objectified Wayuu
knowledge and culture by distinguishing local categories while “freezing”
the culture in time, in order to make it legible and marketable to the
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western public (Richer 1988, 412-3). Therefore, when the Wayuu of
Siapana use ethnographic books in their classes, they are merely
reproducing a knowledge that, inevitably, has been commoditized. Not
surprisingly, the constitutional decrees supporting the processes of
“differential homogenization” refer to an “anthropological reality” that
serves as the criteria to conserve and rescue Indigenous cultures. After all,
anthropological knowledge is deemed to be scientific, and thus better
suited for the creation of a multicultural modern state. And if the
Colombian state were to take as “other” cultures how local Indigenous
communities currently perceive and experience the world, it might not
look as “exotic” and different as expected.
This notion of “losing culture” can only occur in a marginal society,
such as the Wayuu. It is not common that a mainstream Colombian is
concerned about having to act in pre-established ways written in a book
because he/she is expected to exhibit certain behaviors and customs to
index Colombianness. Culture is lived and embodied, not static, fixed, and
outside the self; therefore, what is really “lost” in the case of disempowered
communities is not an anthropological notion of culture but certain
traditions that are forgotten, replaced by others, or whose meanings have
changed. In the case of the Wayuu, it is only through education and the
discourse of the alijuna learned by the Wayuu that the idea of “losing
culture” exists when, for instance, a Wayuu prefers not to use their
“traditional” clothing, resort to “palabreros,”15 dance yonna,16 speak
Wayuunaiki, or believe in dreams. Rehabilitating their culture becomes a
need to express who they are and want to be, while using and
reinterpreting the “traditional” over-determined ideals recorded in
ethnographic accounts. These objectified and isolated traits of “traditional”
culture, which serve to index Wayuuness, are taught in classes, such as
“culture” and “language,” in an ethno-educative institution like Siapana
(see Ferrero Botero n.d., for a more detailed description of these classes
and how they commoditize culture).
Measuring and Indexing Identity:
Re-appropriating a Commoditized Culture
Thinking of the Wayuu students as conscripts of the state, the market,
and other external forces that commoditize their culture and make them
perform it in exchange for resources does not portray a complete picture
15
16
Cultural voice-men and mediators of conflicts in Wayuu society.
Traditional Wayuu dance.
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
187
regarding how Siapana students feel about their own culture. Some
scholars, such as Davydd Greenwood (1989, 173) argue that
commoditization of culture is not positive because local culture is made
inauthentic since it is altered, destroyed, and made meaningless by the
people who believe in it. Paula López Caballero’s (2005) discussion on the
authenticity of tradition illuminates the idea that despite commoditization
and objectification of culture, the new ways in which students in Siapana
live their culture and develop an identity are genuinely Indigenous. She
argues that even if resorting to culture and tradition may have particular
pragmatic and political aims, it does not mean that these are not authentic.
This take on “tradition” differs from what anthropologists Roger Keesing
and Alain Babadzan call kastom, or “invented traditions” in the South
Pacific Islands. López Caballero argues that the point is not whether
present claims to traditional culture correspond to an objectified past, an
idea anthropologists tend to analyze. Instead, López Caballero (2005, 113)
claims that tradition and culture are still authentic since these changes are
the result of social transformations, which are not intentional and
calculated manipulations to reach certain goals.
To understand tradition—or the authenticity of commoditized culture
as it is experienced by the students in Siapana—it is necessary to take into
account the structure as well as the agency of the people and the
community to pursue their shared interests and motivations according to
their own sociocultural logics and practices (López Caballero 2005, 12829). In the case of Siapana, the former can be analyzed through the push of
modernity and capitalism to commoditize Indigenous culture, while the
latter can be examined through the desires to “ser alguien en la vida” and
bring development without losing Wayuuness. In other words, López
Caballero (2005, 129) states, “traditions are significant universes for
individuals and collectivities, motivated by the subjects that live in a
specific social world.” In Siapana, the view of Wayuu culture adheres to
the need to reproduce their community in a capitalist system, but through
ways that are locally meaningful and that maintain continuity with their
experienced past, not an objective past. Thus, though Wayuu culture may
be objectified and commoditized, routinizing and fixing some aspects of
their lives and what many people call their “culture,” the students also feel
empowered since this process feels like it is closing the gap towards
“development” while it allows them to “ser alguien en la vida.” What this
means is that there is a different relationship between the subject and the
element of “culture” becoming objectified recreating, as part of a process
of continuity, a meaningful local culture that is in accord with a structural
and historical context and the local view of the future. In this sense and as
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a result of the process of homogenization, how the Wayuu feel about their
lives and what they learn in school is analogous to what most other
alijuna—who do not have to worry about “loss” of culture—feel as they
go to school to gain symbolic and cultural capital that allows them to
obtain employment in the future. Under this perspective, I, as an alijuna
educated in Colombian elite institutions, have also become a commodity
as I enrich my own life through more education and experience, expecting
to use these tools to become who I want to be in society.
In anthropological terms, culture cannot be measured; thus, nobody has
“more” culture than another person. However, in the context of Siapana,
some people are said to know more about Wayuu culture than others. This
is, clearly, a direct reference to the idea that some people, such as the
elderly, know more about “traditional” knowledge than the average
Wayuu; the more the person knows about this “traditional” knowledge, the
more Wayuu he/she is. In fact, the reason individuals who go to the cities
and stop wearing Wayuu clothing, speaking Wayuunaiki, and relating to
Wayuu knowledge “lose” their culture and become “non-Wayuu” is
because they forget or ignore that “traditional” knowledge. As an
anthropologist, I wanted to learn about Wayuu “culture.” I was, then,
constantly told many times and by different people that the student
Antonio was very Wayuu, and that, therefore, I should be talking to him to
learn more about their culture. Just like capital, this objectified knowledge
and culture is added to a person or can be accumulated through
standardized classes and experience. Consequently, people’s Wayuuness is
constantly challenged in Siapana. In the Internado, where it is necessary to
learn this “traditional” knowledge to become a Wayuu, constant vigilance
and judgment exist, disciplining and pushing “hyper-correction” to those
individuals who may not be wearing Wayuu clothing or acting like “real”
Wayuu.17
For example, the student Armando expressed his sadness at the fact
that some students who lived in Maracaibo, Venezuela,18 could not speak
their own language (Wayuunaiki) and did not know anything about the
culture. In addition to classes, many students learn Wayuu culture through
a more direct “traditional” enculturation. Armando explained to me how
he learned to dance yonna and sing jayechi19 from his grandfather and by
observing other Wayuu performing these activities. His grandfather, who
17
The ideas of disciplining and hyper-correction are taken from Foucault (1975)
and Bourdieu (1991).
18 Many Wayuu families live in Maracaibo, but since it is a large urban locality,
many Wayuu begin to lose their language.
19 Recitation of song/poems in Wayuunaiki.
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
189
died five years ago (when Armando was about twelve years old), taught
him “all the meanings about the culture,” as he put it. As a consequence,
Armando explained, there was a constant exchange of Wayuu knowledge
and culture among the students. What they learn about their culture
becomes important to index Wayuuness and to find some benefits in
different contexts and for different reasons.
July 15, 2010 serves as an example. This day most of the students were
busy memorizing Wayuu stories and folk wisdom, decorating the
Internado, making handcrafts, and practicing yonna, jayechi, and
traditional instruments. The reason was that on the following day, July 16,
the vice-president of Colombia at the time, Francisco Santos Calderón,
was going to arrive in Siapana. During this celebration, the Wayuu of
Siapana indexed their Colombianness (homogeneity) through the painting
of Colombian flags, and the singing of the national anthem, among other
activities. But they also indexed their Wayuuness through performing the
yonna, jayechi, and by wearing “traditional” attire. This spectacle made it
clear to those foreign (state) officials that the Wayuu culture is strong and
alive and that the Wayuu of Siapana are now, indeed, Colombians.
Even though the meanings of cultural knowledge and activities in
Siapana may not be “traditional” if we take the past as objective, these are
clearly still meaningful in a phenomenological sense. It is erroneous to
think otherwise. Even if this knowledge is commoditized, it is experienced
by the Wayuu as a way to index their Wayuuness, their pride of being
Indigenous, and their role as Indigenous peoples within the national
society, and it becomes a clear political statement of who they are and who
they want to be. In the case of Siapana, while “traditional” knowledge is
marginalized compared to alijuna knowledge, it still serves as the
complement for “differential homogenization,” making the Wayuu feel
like empowered “others” and citizens. The Wayuu go through their path of
becoming “alguien en la vida,” demonstrating that they are not inferior to
any other Colombian. Antonio, a student of La Universidad de Santo
Tomas in Bucaramanga, Colombia, exemplifies this personal empowerment.
He expresses his excitement when alijuna students show interest in his
Indigenous clothing, musical instruments, and ideologies. Happily,
Antonio tells me, he responds with his desire to be 100 percent Wayuu. In
fact, what it means for these students to be Wayuu in a multicultural
Colombia is to be able to show what Wayuuness looks like and
demonstrating their capabilities as people. For Antonio, becoming
“alguien en la vida” and “becoming” visible in the alijuna world allows
him to overcome a Wayuu social sense of inferiority. In the case of the
student Juliana, she feels proud and happy that she is learning Wayuu
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“traditional” culture in the Internado because it is making her more
Wayuu. What it means to be Wayuu for many students, such as Sandra, is
to be a person who is different in culture and beliefs than other nonIndigenous people. Indexing Wayuuness, then, is not only a mere political
and economic act; it is also a political and social expression of identity and
the Wayuu’s place in the world, both locally and nationally.
Finally, it is necessary to point out that ethno-education also fulfills a
role in the local context. The knowledge that students learn in school as
Wayuu culture enables them to function in their cultural Wayuu world,
ensuring their feeling of empowerment. Armando, for example, finds
satisfaction when he uses his knowledge from school to become a leader
and become a “palabrero.” On one occasion, when his cousin had a
problem with another family, Armando took the opportunity to use his
leadership skills by representing his cousin as a “palabrero.” In Armando’s
narrative, when the other “palabrero” saw him attempt to solve the
conflict, he did not believe that such a young boy could be representing
someone else because it is not customary. Armando tells me that he
responded to this concern fully confident because he knew he could use
“traditional” Wayuu knowledge and the speech skills learned in school to
show that he was worthy of being a “palabrero.” By using his knowledge
as cultural and symbolic capital, Armando became respected in his family.
Armando, who also intends to go to college, might be called an exemplary
story of success in the context of the creation of a multicultural Colombian
through ethno-education in Siapana; he has been able to apply his
education to his own life as a Wayuu, hoping to become “alguien en la
vida” and accepting the Colombian capitalist way of life to which he now
belongs.
Concluding Remarks
For the 2010 academic year, eighteen scholarships were given to
students of Siapana thanks to the remarkable agency of Paula, the director
of Siapana, and her ability to find state resources. These students were
among the few who were able to pursue an education beyond the
bachillerato. Though these are, in fact, relatively few scholarships
compared to the large number of Wayuu students, this individualized
action motivated many other Siapana students to believe that they can also
be “alguien en la vida.” Unfortunately, by the end of the first semester,
four of those students had failed their classes and, thus, their scholarships.
The reasons I was given included the fact that it was difficult to live in a
city and outside of La Guajira; and it was even harder to get accustomed to
Empowerment Through Ethno-Education in a Disempowering Context
191
the rigidity of university life, especially when the students had so many
academic gaps (i.e. gaps in alijuna knowledge). This situation exemplifies
a more complex picture of this “empowerment” as it is lived outside the
Indigenous ancestral territory. Colombia does not have the educational and
political infrastructure to support cultural diversity, even though it pushes
the students to live by alijuna ideals with a commoditized Wayuu
knowledge.
Knowing the poverty that these kinds of communities collectively
endure as they become integral parts of the system and the dark fate that
their lives and hopes may encounter because of their inability to truly
achieve as a community the benefits of modernity and “development,” it
becomes necessary to rethink what this type of personal empowerment, as
it is evidenced in Siapana, means. Ethno-education, under this lens,
becomes a state mechanism that allows local people to sustain and
perpetuate the system, in this case a liberal hierarchical capitalist system.
From this point of view, the mystified idea that ethno-education can be the
solution for the problems in La Guajira may be another chain that keeps
the Wayuu from achieving true self-determination. It becomes crucial to
ask: what kinds of empowerment do these marginalized communities want
and how can they be in accord with a process of collective empowerment
within the nation-state? What kind of empowerment, and in terms of
whose perspective, should we support if we are to create a truly
multicultural nation?
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