As A Little Girl Growing Up In Colombia ((better))

The soundtrack to this childhood is distinct. It isn't silence. It is the blare of Vallenato or Cumbia from a speaker that seems to be always on. It is the sound of her mother or grandmother shouting from the kitchen, calling the family to eat. It is the roar of the river and the distant sound of a neighbor’s horse. She learns to love the outdoors not as a pristine playground, but as a wild, living part of her heritage.

Lesson Two: Do not walk alone. Do not catch the bus after dark. Do not wear your hair in a ponytail (because it is easy for a man to grab you by the ponytail). Cover your shoulders. Look at the ground. Do not make eye contact with the men on the motorcycles.

We believed that El Hombre Caimán (The Alligator Man) lived in the Magdalena River and would turn you into a reptile if you bathed after 3 PM. We believed that finding a mopa-mopa (a sticky tree resin figure) in your shoe meant good luck for the harvest. We believed that if you didn’t finish your caldo de costilla , the Patasola (a one-legged forest spirit) would lick your ankles at midnight.

While childhood in Colombia is rich in joy, it is also touched by the complexities of the country’s history and socio-economic landscape.

To grow up female in Colombia is to be raised by a chorus of grandmothers, aunts, and the hired muchachas who often loved you more fiercely than blood ever could. my education was not in a classroom but in the kitchen. as a little girl growing up in colombia

: Observers note that 11- and 12-year-old girls today often display a high level of confidence and exuberance regarding their future opportunities.

The weather was a character in our story. It never asked for permission. One moment we were jumping rope in blinding sun, the chalk dust rising off the pavement; the next, a aguacero (downpour) would hit so hard the gutters would become raging rivers, and we would float paper boats down the sidewalks, shrieking as our white school uniforms turned translucent.

When I feel lost in a gray city far from the equator, I close my eyes and go back. I am six years old. I am barefoot on cool ceramic tiles. My abuela is humming a bambuco . The coffee is dripping. And the whole of Colombia—wild, wounded, and wildly beautiful—fits inside my small, open heart.

At thirteen, I discovered the third altitude: desire. The soundtrack to this childhood is distinct

Folklore and magical realism are also interwoven into daily life. Growing up in the homeland of Gabriel García Márquez means that stories of myth, legend, and wonder are a natural part of childhood. Whether it is listening to tales of the Madremonte or the Patasola from grandparents, young girls develop a rich imagination that blends the realities of everyday life with a touch of magic. Education and Empowerment

I dream of my grandmother’s kitchen floor. I dream of the ants marching toward the mango. I dream of my father’s shoulders, broad as a continent. I dream of the hummingbird in the bougainvillea, its wings beating so fast they disappear.

But the loudest sound was the human one. On Sundays, my uncles would arrive with a bottle of aguardiente and a portable radio. They would play salsa —Rubén Blades, Héctor Lavoe. The adults would dance. , I would stand on my father’s feet while he taught me to step to the clave . "Mira," he would say, "the rhythm is the heart. If you lose the rhythm, you lose yourself." I did not know then that he was talking about survival.

What do you prefer? (e.g., highly nostalgic, journalistic, or travel-focused) Let me know how you would like to refine the piece. Share public link It is the sound of her mother or

Colombian parenting often emphasizes a set of core cultural values: Respeto (Respect)

The Cordillera Central unfolded like a green accordion. Valleys fell away into mist. A river below was a silver thread stitching the earth together. I realized, with a child’s cold terror, that the world did not end at the corner bakery. It kept going. It went over peaks and down into ravines where the sun never touched the mud. It went all the way to the jungle, and beyond that, to the sea I had only seen in a photograph of Cartagena.

Unlike the structured playdates of the northern hemisphere, Colombian childhood was feral and free-range—within strict boundaries. You could play in the street until the streetlights came on, but you never wandered past the corner store owned by Don José .

: In times of trouble, neighborhoods function as extended families. If a family faces hardship, neighbors step in to share food, watch children, and offer support, teaching young girls the vital importance of solidarity and community care. The Legacy of a Colombian Childhood

In the bustling capital of Bogotá, children often wear warm sweaters and coats, navigating a cool, misty climate surrounded by towering, snow-covered mountains. Weekend activities might include hiking up the nearby Monserrate mountain or exploring the city's historic cobblestone streets.