Of my childhood, I carry memories of the sounds of the wind. I also carry memories of the care received from Ana, my Nasa nanny. Through the process of raising me, that care made her a part of me, and me a part of her.

My own creative journey has led me in recent years to turn a sensitive gaze toward the land that received me for the first time—Cauca—and to explore the wind and its spirit. At Tierradentro, my nanny’s birthplace, this element is considered as a healer through the crafting of the caucan flute made from the carrizo plant. The voice of the flutes interprets the wind’s message, tells the story of the southern peoples, and transmits ancient wisdom.

Based on these memories, sensations, and sounds, the ‘Nasa Nodriza’ [1]project took shape as an autobiographical exploration rooted in the cosmogonies and customs of the Nasa people, beginning with a study of the upbringing of indigenous mestizos and the role of the indigenous nanny in that process. Here, I present an exploration of my own upbringing and the intersection of my story with that of my nanny: a Nasa woman who, indoctrinated under the yoke of the Jehovah’s Witnesses in Popayán, a city steeped in colonial customs, longs to return to her homeland, but only after her death.

'Nasa Nodriza' weaves together a cosmogonic journey —both human and non-human-, the search for my origins, and my need to reclaim and redefine them, acknowledging the profound connection between them and the territory and indigenous knowledge. It explores ancestral wisdom, the ancient music of flutes, and their composition within the ritual framework of the indigenous peoples of Cauca, and proposes to engage in an act of decolonial resistance and a process of healing and reclaiming the Nasa identity of my nanny and my own, through the melodies of the wind.

This project has always been carried out with the permission and spiritual guidance of the elders Nasa Mauricio Kuchimba and Misak Lorenzo Tunubala, guardians and messengers of the wisdom of the wind, the mountain, and the carrizo.

[1] The spanish word Nodriza means both ‘wet nurse’, ‘nanny’ and ‘mothership’. For the exhibition title the artist plays with the double meaning of ‘nanny’and ‘mothership’.

-Fabián Orozco