Global Pathways Colombia Blog

In weekly workshops, Global Pathways Colombia students respond to academic articles and reflect on their experiences so far. We are publishing a selection of their reflections on this blog. This week, students were asked to reflect on two TED Talks that combine themes of storytelling and architecture:

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Maria Hernandez

“Why great architecture should tell a story” by Ole Scheeren

The way Ole Scheeren ties in storytelling and the projects he uses as case studies helps arise what I had subconsciously thought of in Manantiales. Before arriving there, I tried to dispel any prejudiced ideas of the barrio. I only thought that, since it was technically an informal settlement, the size of the neighborhood would be smaller than what it actually is. It was the only idea that I had that was debunked immediately. There are countless houses and structures in the neighborhood and even more people that inhabit them. Each house was very close to one another, the roads or alleys were very narrow and steep. Because of this, I thought of how close each community member’s story is intertwined with each other due to the lack of space. I internalized how Doña Ena’s house is a small, modest dwelling that can barely hold all of us inside as we enjoy an impromptu break and all the types of juice she makes; yet it is a hub of activity and cheerfulness. The closeness of this setting has inspired many conversations between the residents and the visitors. The stories that have been told (and are yet to be told) encompass and form a part of the structure that Doña Ena calls home.

Even if this physical closeness inspires a personal one as well, the community’s construction and layout prompt the stories of many residents to stay concentrated and (inevitably) unreachable for those who can’t go and hear them personally. Because of the difficulty of travelling to and from Manantiales for its residents, many outsiders are not aware of the multitude of stories that it possesses (whether those are from before arriving to the barrio or developed right at Manantiales). In addition, many of the residents’ capabilities of creating stories outside of Manantiales are physically limited. Scheeren says that when designing structures with other professionals, they must think of the experiences the inhabitants will have within the walls. If one were to look at a case and have to decide its fate without clear and proper observation, the task could be completely off-track.

A building has the capability of being a cold, hard structure that provides all of the services needed to cater to basic human needs; or it can be a space where warmth and amicability can be shared, alongside with being safe and comfortable. To see the distinction, people have to see the protagonists of the situation as not the bricks to create the next big building, but the people’s emotions and stories that will be created and expanded within these walls. When thinking of how to improve the physical structure of Manantiales, I lack the expertise to suggest ideas in architecture or planning. However, I see the many aspects to improve of the residents’ stories within the community. Along with attaining a better water supply system, I see the need in trying to foment more community closeness in finding (or creating) more space to congregate; and making it easier for the residents to be able to move to, from and around the neighborhood.

“My architectural philosophy? Bring the community into the process” by Alejandro Aravena

This video particularly made me think of my experience in our second visit to Manantiales de Paz. My role that day was to film a discussion among the community leaders of Manantiales that were discussing seventeen different points the United Nations established to improve living conditions in an area. The goal was to narrow down the ultimate goals the barrio needed to achieve in order to progress. Conducted by an architecture team, the discussion consisted of giving people three votes for the most vital disadvantages they had as a community as a whole. Alejandro Aravena describes in his TedTalk how participatory design (in theory) is a very beautiful way to convoke a community to personally express their specific needs; but, in practice, it is very difficult to address. The whole point of the discussion in Manantiales (much like the one Aravena conducted in Constitución, Chile) was not to find immediate solutions but to find the right questions. I didn’t realize this until well into the discussion.

During the first part of the voting, many people opted for peace, better education, end of poverty, among other goals. However, it was evident that establishing a final product was only the beginning. One of the community leaders (I truly wish I had recorded his introduction and included his name) spoke out and asked a question that turned the discussion around: “¿Cómo vamos a obtener el ‘fin de la pobreza’ (which was Point 1, and the one with the most votes at the moment) si no tenemos ‘trabajo decente y progreso económico’ (which was Point 8 and had fewer votes)?” If I remember correctly, he also asked how would it be possible to have good health without potable water? And how can they have potable water without money? His analysis of the problem was crucial to steering the conversation away from establishing what would be ideal to have, towards what exactly are the problems. With this Don’s questioning of the points it was clear (like Aravena says) that they had “to identify with precision what is the right question.” As outsiders coming into a community that has expanded beyond what could be conceived, it is very clear that one can come in with preconceived ideas of the problems they might have. It is very different hearing from not one but numerous people what are their circumstances and the possible roots and ramifications of their obstacles.

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Alec Oswald

Alejandro Aravena

In 10 years, Manantiales has managed to grow into an 8000 plus person community. Their infrastructure and public amenities may be in poor condition and their safety and economic opportunity may be in question, yet the life force behind their achievements cannot be denied. They are among some of the most sustainable people in the world, conscious of every resource they use and when. No lights will be found left on in Manantiales and no cords left plugged in for needless reasons. No tap will run while one is shaving nor brushing one’s teeth. They are also an extremely entrepreneurial group of people. I have seen chefs, seamstresses, barbers, hair dressers, electronic repair and laundry machine rental services all offered out of the confines of one’s home. The home is not simply a place of respite, but a space that fosters ingenuity and creativity. These accomplishments and areas of improvement are tied together and provide tremendous opportunity. Right now, Manantiales does not have a dedicated physical space to gather. Without a home base, no community center, there is no easy way to politically or communally organize and realize actionable plans. But most of all, there is no easy way to “spring” towards the “peace” their very name defines. By facilitating what they are good at to improve in areas where they need help feels like common sense. Combining Alejandro Aravena’s idea of using the energy and power of the people to solve the housing crisis and providing a communication link where there would otherwise not be one, could prove to be a major stepping stone for Manantiales.

Ole Scheeren — My professor Jota’s reactions to the changes he sees in one year’s time is a reoccurrence on my trips to Manantiales, though one that I myself cannot perceive, is one that I can feel. People have upgraded their homes, public spaces have taken new shape and the neighborhood is ever expanding. It is a sign of hope because while many are on the brink of survival, many are progressing. Ole Scheeren’s idea of architecture as an organism that can and needs to tell the stories and experiences of its users is an invaluable concept for the doble dezpladados (double displaced). As the neighborhood is ever changing, how does its form allow its stories to be remembered. Twenty, thirty years from now, how will Doña Ena’s food and juice business be remembered? How will the invasion be remembered? My fear is that the layered history of Manantiales will be forgotten and forsaken in its rapid urbanization.

It is important here to note, that before my 5-week experience in Medellín, I spent 6 weeks on a study abroad program in Rome. An elective course, the Layers and History of Rome, had me walking through the city 6 hours a day, learning the city’s 2,000-year-old history through its architecture. A single church can feature a column from the days of the empire, another from the renaissance, attached to the portico of a modern building and all built on the foundation of a building from the Roman Republic. Compare this to a 10-year-old informal community, a house that began as wood, grows into brick, is sometimes covered with a thin layer of concrete and eventually painted over like the evolution of a cocoon. Architecture can tell stories.

While I commend the story telling powers of art and media, I wonder, can architecture tell a better story or provide the foundation for these other outlets to tell a truer one? Instead, one’s historical and cultural knowledge of Manantiales should be invigorated and reinforced every time one gazes upon its public buildings and infrastructure projects. When form follows fiction.

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Mara Congour

These TED Talk videos send waves of electricity through me just like the cold showers I have been taking for the last four weeks. Not only are they an excellent wake-up call, but they push me out of my nest of mental slumber and complacency and into a world of possibility.  The way that both Ole Scheeren and Alejandro Aravena spoke about the power of design reminded me of why I want to be an architect. I believe that design, though it is not the sole driver for changing the world, does provide a good stage for doing so. Design is the building block of our everyday lives; it is in every building we set foot in, every bench we rest on, and every taxi door that we accidentally slam. Without good design, life suddenly becomes a lot less functional.  A disconnected, poorly labeled street network confuses its users, a playground with shoddy equipment discourages family usage and interaction, and a museum with a small, decrepit entrance does not invite in the audience its art deserves. People are not encouraged to come and gather around tables and benches and hang out with their friends if they are uncomfortable and in an unwelcoming atmosphere. Concrete buildings and streets that provide nothing but chewed gum and “NO LOITERING” signs encourage hiding in homes and create roadblocks for friendship.

This is why thoughtful, well-informed design is so important to our society. Good design invites the mingling of people and their environment. It is both utilitarian and creative.  It can function on different scales in or for different places with different cultures. Good design garners a specific, desired reaction or series of reactions. It can fuel exploration or relaxation, provoke deep thought or excitement. This is why I believe that the design of the community space is of dire importance to the functionality of not only a community, but society as a whole. If the community space does not have pleasant hubs for people to mingle in, the community may not interact as much. Lack of mingling often means an increase in isolation. When people do not know their neighbors, they may become suspicious and untrusting of their behavior, which can lead to issues down the road. I am not saying that this is a set phenomenon and that this will always happen, but rather it is less likely to happen if the community has a good space to gather in.

As a future architect I wish to construct spaces that allow communities to construct themselves. I thought that the vertical village in Singapore, aka The Interlace was an excellent approach to this. It turned traditional, concrete block architecture onto its side (literally) and in doing so, created an amazing hive of potential. Balconies and large windows invite people to be outside and either watch or become a part of the social activities taking place.  People are given places to gather and interact with each other, giving them the opportunity to build strong bonds and create a sense of community. A simple bench can provide the perfect setting for a friendship in the making. However, there is a difference between putting a bench along the edge of a highway, versus putting the same one in the middle of Central Park. Creating a setting is more than the placement of objects. It is creating interactions between objects and their users.

Good design also relies deeply on the connection between the architect and the client. When the architect does not see eye to eye with the client, Pruitt-Igoes are born.  For those who know not what Pruitt-Igoe is, look back into the 1960’s and early 70’s on US soil. Now imagine an under-budgeted, under maintained mass-housing project designed for black families in racist St. Louis Missouri. The housing did not fit the needs of the community, isolating them to degrading towers and separating them from the life of the street below. You get the gist of it. And also why it was torn down.

The architect must know the client that they work for, and be able to understand them. The bonds that we are making now with the people of Manantiales have strong determinate factors in the outcome of our project. I hope that these bonds will allow us to serve the community in the best way possible, and to help create a stronger community whilst improving their health, safety and education. Form can follow function as much as it wants to, but I think Ole Scheeran had the right of it when he said that form should follow fiction. Utilitarianism only works to a certain extent. You must think about whether you want the bench that you design to be a mere seat or a platform for community building. 

In weekly workshops, Global Pathways Colombia students respond to academic articles and reflect on their experiences so far. We are publishing a selection of their reflections on this blog.

Ivy Tran, CU Boulder

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Samantha Schecter, Emerson College

I have learned and experienced more in my two weeks in Medellin than I had anticipated. La gente; son amable, generoso, y resistente. Being here has been such a discovery for a part of my identity I had previously neglected. Speaking quietly to it on the phone, undermining its story, shoving it to the side. Shame should not be felt for any part of who you are. You are you, you are growing, you are evolving; always.

The women in Manantiales are strong. Their strength is reminiscent of my mothers’. The strength she exhibited when her husband died leaving her with two small children ages one and three. The strength she exhibited when she left her family and country behind in hopes of a future better than what was available under her circumstances. The strength she exhibited when she brought her drug addicted brother with her so that her family wouldn’t have to endure the pain that comes with seeing a loved one suffer with addiction. The strength she exudes every day.

It’s strange to think that Medellin will soon again be home to my mom in just a few years. I fear she will be lonely. I know she lives and dies for my sister and me. Como me dice, “tu eres mi vida”. And I know that. I have never doubted that.

The more time I spend in Manantiales, the more I realize just how strong these people are. Just how loving and giving every one of them have been. At every home I went to I was offered something. The first woman I interviewed fed me pineapple and gifted me the most beautiful coin purse. Hearing her story of having gone without food and water for some time made these gifts that much more meaningful. True colors show in times of hardship. Feeding a person is more meaningful than people tend to realize; and although I didn’t eat all of what was offered to me in Manantiales, that doesn’t take away from that meaning. The women in Manantiales are giving; Food, love, gifts, trust. With smiles on their faces and undying love in their hearts, they give and give and give. After all that has been taken from them, these people, still, don’t stop giving.

After the second trip to Manantiales, Eli was wearing a red shirt with the silhouettes of a person wearing pants and of a person wearing a skirt, divided by an equal sign, and the word “igualdad” under it. “Me gusta mucho tu camisa!” I told her. She said she would give me one the next time I came; and she did.

I AM SO PRIVILEGED. I have mobility and representation and my voice is heard. I do not fear of displacement. I do not fear of how I will pay next month’s rent. I do not fear that my kids don’t have enough to eat or that they are not receiving a quality education or that they are cold at night or getting wet from the rain leaking through my plastic roof. I don’t have kids for that matter. Or a plastic roof. But many people in Manantiales do. And they don’t think like me. They painfully leave where they are no longer welcome, rebuild homes in another place they are not welcome, and say “p’alante”. 

Since being in Colombia and Manantiales I have been thinking a lot about purpose and life. Why do we feel such a profound desire to live? In happiness or misery, luchamos. Por que? I hear these stories and think, “wow. I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could go through that and push and fight and slave away at life for a chance at living.” How are these people just as happy as people I know that are living the archetype of a notable, fulfilling life? What I have realized is that it isn’t about what you do in life, it is about the meaning you find in that doing. The purpose of life is finding meaning in your circumstance.

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Tucker Treat, CU Boulder

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Gabriela Mancuso, Emerson College

On our very first trip to Manantiales de Paz, amidst the tin roofs, pinks and yellows of weathered wooden homes, and the compact silence found between heavily laden clothes lines, I came across a fuming woman screaming into her cell phone about her boyfriend. She leaned against the side of her home and beat the air with her free arm all while cursing her “novio” and whatever it was he had done to make her so angry. This is the first thing that popped into my mind when Isha suggested I write about “the romance of Medellin” for this reflection.

I have been fortunate enough to travel to many countries and cities throughout my life, but in no other place have I ever seen a woman so angry with her boyfriend, as I have in Medellin. In this same moment I was struck by the very uncomfortable notion of my own unimportance. I mean, here I am- waking up everyday to go to work on time, studying enough to do well in school, eating well balanced meals, going to the gym, looking both ways before I cross the street, and even recycling- but there is nothing good, and nothing huge throughout the entirety of my 20 years of life that I have done to prevent this woman’s boyfriend from being so shitty.

I was most excited to come to Medellin to experience community. This is why I was surprised when immediately after this feeling of unimportance; I was overcome by the feeling and sense of community and love- just in a new way. We wake up, we go to work, and we do “good” to sustain life. We want to sustain life, because of the people we come to pass it by with- whether it be shitty boyfriends, or our closest friends- these are the people that we love, and want- whether we should or not.  Medellin is romantic because it reminded me how to love. The people I have come to pass the time by with have helped me remember the true meaning of life and loving.

In weekly workshops, Global Pathways Colombia students respond to academic articles and reflect on their experiences so far. We are publishing a selection of their reflections on this blog. After the first week, students were asked to reflect on their first impressions of Medellín — their daily lives, places we’ve visited, stories we’ve heard, their host families, etc.

Simon Gibson Penrose, Emerson College

I am blown away by the generosity, openness, and affection displayed by both my host family and the people of Manantiales. They were all so welcoming and loving from the moment we met them. My host moms make me breakfast everyday, even when I need to leave early for Manantiales. They treat me as they would their own son. They hug and kiss me multiple times a day. They call me “mi amor”. I don’t think I know anyone in the US who would be that committed to a person their simply housing. They take the phrase “homestay family” very literally. I am their son for a month. Yesterday, Nora’s son and daughter came to the house and they treated me as their brother, Juan David especially. He is so nice, he made me feel so comfortable with him in a matter of minutes, and I normally don’t take to new humans that fast. He asked if I had ever tried unripened mango with salt, pepper, and lemon juice and I hadn’t. This made him very excited and he used it as an opportunity to walk around the neighborhood to search for unripened mangoes but also to just talk and get to know each other. We walked around Carlos E. for probably 45 minutes scanning all the mango trees but most of the trees were empty. We found two mangoes on one tree that were pretty high up and there was no way to climb it to grab them, so we went with a rock throwing strategy which got us one after a few minutes. Although we were on a mission for fruit, this was a great experience for us to get to know each other. I truly feel like he is my brother. He accepts me as I am, he loves me for who I am and I feel like I can be the best version of myself around not only Juan but my whole family. These people are warming my cold Seattle heart. And so is the city of Medellin. Even though we are clearly a very non-Colombian group who do not have the best handle on Spanish, all the people at restaurants and shops have helped us out. Even when we give them the deer in the headlights look of “Duuuuh, what did you say?” they continue to help. They may chuckle a bit at our expense, but that is completely understandable. If this case were reversed in the US, I could see it going wrong in so many ways. In Medellin, they just want to help you get what you want. It is also great having so many beautiful trees and plants in the neighborhood. It reminds me of home, except these trees are better since they bear mangos, avocados, and tangerines. I’m really loving it here and couldn’t be more glad I came.

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Isha Marathe, Emerson College

I always find it difficult to understand a city until I have left it. I suspect it will be the same with Medellin.

Since getting off the airplane five days ago, everything that is happening feels like it is happening off a pre-written script rather than as consequence to my actions. Rosa – my host family’s housekeeper – taking the liberty to unpack my suitcase, and arrange my clothes with precision keener than a weaver bird’s, on my very first morning in Medellin, was perhaps what set the tone to my time in the tastefully spic and span apartment of Alcira Bonilla’s family.

Alcira, somewhere in her early sixties, mother to three and grandmother to two was kind-hearted in the sort of way someone is when they needn’t even try. At least for the brief time that we met, before she left for ten days to her daughter’s function. The night before, she assured me and my roommate “Rosa se encargará de ti.”

She was not joking.

Rosa, is magical. She has powers where she knows when our dirty clothes are put out. When we need them. When we sleep. When we wake up. When we sleep because we are tired. When, because we had an extra glass of wine. When to set out an intricately designed plate of fruit, arepas, a glass of freshly squeezed juice. The food is enjoyable in a way I had forgotten food could be. The coffee we drink every morning is brewed with beans off the Bonillas’ farm. As is the fruit, picked off their farm. And it tastes like fireworks and looks like love and wafts all the way into the steaming shower every morning and when Rosa says ‘Buen provecho,’ the sentiment defies any and every language barrier we might have.

I must put a stop to my tirade about food now or it won’t ever end. I do not joke. I have heard we are having corn arepas and chocolate for breakfast tomorrow. I have no idea what corn arepas are. But I cannot wait. I have not been able to not wait for food since I left my grandmother’s kitchen.

It is not only Rosa, and her unsettling clout with multitasking that fills that apartment in Carlos E. but everyone in it. The ever-so-naughty 2-year-old twins Emilio and Luciana. Alcira’s 21-year-old son Santiago who eats meals with us, educates us on all things Colombian liquor from sample shots of Aguardiente and Ron – followed by an only slightly sarcastic, but mostly anxious “I don’t want you to think our family is alcoholic.” And everybody else who circulates in and out of that flat from uncles, aunts, cousins, girlfriends and people who will hug and greet me without either one of us knowing who the other is.

I must say life outside that flat is not terribly different.

Medellin, though boasting of heady cannabis (re: Boston) and notorious for heady other things, has not ceased yet to impress me in its lightness. In its honest passion for salsa, for life, and for an ice cold beer. Which, by the way, is available everywhere I have been to yet. If one needed beer impromptu for emergencies of health, Medellin is the place to be.

I suppose I feel like everything is out of my control because it all feels so easy. From decisions such as how much money to withdraw, what to eat, when to eat, when to wake up – seems so many days drafted by Ryan in his meticulous pre-trip instructions. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. About Medellin. Objectively, I see its beauty. In its stunning greenery, feel it in the pleasant breeze that is only sometimes unpleasant. Even when we wear our backpacks to our fronts for worry of people in need of money at the Metro, the rules seem so set in stone I can hardly find it in myself to even want to break them.

I suppose as difficult as I find it to analyse my reactions to Medellin, I find it perhaps just as – if not more – effortless to analyse my reactions to its people. I won’t talk about Manantiales De Paz in this response because it will be difficult to mention it in passing without doing justice to it. I will say, however, that I have rarely met people so genuinely invested in the feelings of others, as in Medellin. I can’t wait to continue this program, to explore more convenience stores and pubs and vans buzzing with tattoo machines.

So far, it has been absolutely lovely – as though completely without my control.