Mayapo beach and immigration

While enjoying Riohacha to the maximum contrary to the all expectations, Milan and I wanted to see at least one more of the praised beaches in the surounding.

We went to the Mayapo beach, and while Milan spent hours swimming, I didn’t really like the brownish color of water close to the coast (due to the wind and sand), so I stayed outside and read a book. The beach was sandy and extensive but vacant and with odd feel to it.

A local boy soon joined me. He looked young and skinny and was interested in us - where did we come from, why, how. Likewise, I was interested in the way he lived. He told me that he came from the nearby village and that he comes everyday to swim and collect shells. We played some of his games - one was a guessing game, trying to identify which object the other person chose. The second one was guessing how many shells has the other person hidden in the sand. Very simple and straightforward games - he told me they play them often in the village.

Then we talked a bit about life, and the boy revealed to me that he was not local Wayu, but that his parents came from Caracas in Venezuela, when he was born. I think at that moment I realized the proportion of the horror of Venezuelan situation that caused all the immigration. What was a couple with a newborn baby running away from, if they found peace in a desert, where nothing except cactus grows, without drinkable water and the highest poverty rates in Colombia? Whatever it was, it for sure meant death for them. The boy revealed that he is 14 years old - not as young as he looked, but was probably underdeveloped due to the conditions of life.

My life shook a bit that day, but that was just a glimpse of what was about to come in the following days.Leia mais