From Silence to the Communal Word

Last week the Misak linguist Bárbara Muelas Hurtado (“Mama Bárbara”) became the first indigenous woman appointed to the Colombian Academy of Language, the oldest Spanish language academy in the Americas. Hurtado pursues her studies in Namtrik – the Misak language – with wide community participation, and actively supports the indigenous higher education system through the Misak University, established in 2010.
Her book “The Relationship Between Time and Space in Misak Thought” (2024), explores how the Misak language conveys certain ways of seeing and acting, and contributes to the deconstruction of post-colonial conceptions of both the nation and the world.

Here we present her acceptance speech, translated from the original with permission of Pueblos en Camino.
Note: The Misak were sometimes referred to as the Guambianos and their territory as Guambía.

“I receive this appointment with deep gratitude, humility and joy. Today not only opens a door for me, Barbara Muelas Hurtado, but also opens a window through which my Misak people and many other indigenous peoples will be able to look and to be looked at, to be heard and understood.

I was born in ɵskɵwampik, in Silvia, Cauca, almost eighty years ago. I grew up immersed in a worldview where the world is not just something external to us, but a complex network of relationships in which every word has its own life. For the Misaks naming is an act that is made intimately with nature and that demands conscience and responsibility, because by naming not only do we describe the world, but we also create it, sustain it and commit it to our own destiny.

This path to the word was not always easy for me, however. In my family we grew up in an environment deeply marked by a tradition in which silence was especially valued, especially in women. My father, a man loved and respected by us, used to tell me firmly: “Barbara, a woman should not speak much, she should not be noticed.”

Those words were deeply engraved within me, and for a long time they conditioned my way of expressing myself and of relating to the world. Over the years, however, I learned to transform that imposed silence into a powerful tool of reflection, observation and patience. Little by little, the initial silence became sensitive, attentive listening, and finally, evolved into a mature and clear voice which understood that speaking involves enormous responsibility, because behind every word uttered there was a long process of silent reflection.

With this recovered and conscious voice I assumed responsibilities in my community, becoming a permanent member of the Council of Elders of Guambía and, later, the first female deputy governor of the council of Silvia in 2005. In fulfilling each of these functions I realized that speaking was not only for expressing my ideas, but for representing the voices silenced for entire generations, especially the female voices that had learned silence to survive.

Perhaps one of the experiences that has most marked my personal and professional life was when, in 1992, I was summoned together with representatives of seven other indigenous peoples to help translate the sections of the Constitution of Colombia into Namtrik, our mother tongue. That exercise was not simply to move words; it was a challenge that led us to build completely new concepts in our language. I remember especially the long discussions we had around how to translate the term «State», a concept that was non-existent in our imagination.

Finally we decided to use «Nu pirau», which can be translated as the greater territory. This term, far from the coldness and hierarchy typical of the Western concept, expressed a warm and collective idea of responsibility and communal harmony. Each translated word came through a process of profound reflection and community consensus.

This translation exercise not only marked my professional life, but also opened in me a genuine interest in deepening my linguistic studies, which led me to obtain a Master’s Degree in Linguistics and Spanish at the Universidad del Valle. There I came to better understand the deep value of bilingual intercultural education, not just as a pedagogical tool, but also as a powerful mechanism for cultural preservation and intercultural dialogue.

One of the most fascinating, and at the same time complex, aspects of our Misak culture is our perception of time and space. For many years I have studied and reflected on how Namtrik, our language, expresses these realities in a radically different way to how Western culture, represented by Spanish, understands them.

In my book I explain that for our people, time and space are not separate or linear entities; on the contrary, they are deeply interwoven realities. Time is not a straight line that moves forward; rather, it is a living current that surrounds us continuously. For us, the past (metrapsrɵ) is ahead because we already know it, we have lived it and we can see it clearly. Our elders walk in front of us opening paths and leaving traces that we follow with respect and care. The future (wentɵsrɵ), on the other hand, is behind, hidden from our sight; it follows us silently, unknown, full of uncertainty and possibilities.

Our way of perceiving space also differs profoundly from the Western concept of static and immutable cardinal points. In Namtrik, space is understood as a series of expansive spirals that always start from a relational reference point: our home, or more specifically the nakkuk, the stove. This stove is much more than a simple place where one cooks; it is the spiritual and social heart of our family and community. There is where we learn, we talk, we resolve conflicts, and where our ancestral knowledge is transmitted.

From this central point is from where space unrolls, spreading gradually through the act of walking and talking. We use expressions such as pichipmentɵkun, which literally means, “let’s unroll”, when we invite someone to go out, to explore, to discover new paths and knowledge. When we return home, we say kitrɵpmentɵkun, “roll up”, let’s gather ourselves together, to go back to the warm and safe center of the home.

Our elders perceive the cardinal points in a very different way to the Western understanding. In our language, the cardinal points are not fixed and immutable references; on the contrary, they extend from the center (the house, the stove), developing in concentric spirals outwards, growing in an expansive, infinite way. There are multiple names to indicate the directions of north, south, east and west, which always depend on where we are, from where we are looking, and depending on where we walk and to whom we talk to. Each direction is relative, dynamic, and deeply relational, never rigid or absolute. In this way our space is not something static, but always talked upon, walked upon, and shared from the center outward, to the infinite.

In Namtrik, the territory is not static or fixed; it is dynamic, alive, and relational. We call it a conversational territory because it only exists to the extent that it is walked, spoken and shared collectively. That is, our land is not possessed individually, but lived and conversed communally. Our spatial orientation is not based on fixed points, but in relationships of closeness or distance, which always depend on the speaker and their immediate context. We say, for example, wentau (“back”), punɵ (“up”), pantrɵ (“below”), always in relation to the exact place where we are at a certain moment.

This makes our language especially accurate and descriptive spatially, reflecting a deep sense of community and belonging. Space is not neutral; it is always inhabited, conversational, and shared. In this sense, when we greet people in Namtrik, we don’t simply ask “How are you?” but much more significant questions like “Ka ɵsik uñku?”, which means “Are you very well, and full of life, in your space?” In this way we express authentic interest in the comprehensive well-being of each person in relation to their physical and spiritual environment.

As for the idea of the present time, in our culture, this is conceived as an ephemeral, unstable and brief moment called Mɵisrɵ. It is but the fleeting point between that which has already happened (which is ahead, visible) and what is to come (which is behind, invisible). The present is just the moment we are living in right now, always moving, constantly changing, reminding us that everything is transit, that everything flows like a stream of living water.

These particularities of Namtrik are not just linguistic fascinations; they are distinct and profound ways of understanding and inhabiting the world. My goal in sharing these reflections is to show how, through language, we can enrich our vision of the world and our mutual understanding. Each language carries with it a unique way of seeing and understanding reality, and by knowing other forms of perception, such as that of the Misak, we learn not only about other cultures, but also about ourselves and about what unites us as a diverse and plural humanity.

Today, as I become the first indigenous woman of the Colombian Academy of Language, I receive this honor with deep gratitude, joy and an enormous sense of responsibility. I am aware that this recognition goes beyond the personal: it symbolizes openness, inclusion, and the appreciation of our ancestral cultures within the living fabric of our nation.

This day is not simply a point of arrival; I perceive it rather as a starting point, a new beginning in the deep and respectful dialogue that must exist among all the cultures and languages that cohabit this diverse country. My presence here represents the hope for a future where our indigenous voices will be heard not only through tolerance, but through a genuine interest and a genuine appreciation for our understanding of the world.

I would like to take this opportunity to express my firm and unwavering commitment to continue working in bilingual intercultural education, in linguistic research, and, above all, in intercultural dialogue, and for the preservation and strengthening of our indigenous languages. I also commit myself to contributing through this honorable Academy to the mutual enrichment of understanding, and to the respectful coexistence among all the cultures that make up our Colombian nation.

The linguistic diversity of Colombia is a treasure that we must protect. With more than 65 indigenous languages, our country is a mosaic of voices and knowledge. However, this diversity is in jeopardy. That is why I propose that the Colombian Academy of Language establish research and collaboration projects with indigenous communities.

Imagine a project in which linguists and academics work hand-in-hand with the Misaks to document and analyze Namtrik. We could explore areas such as phonetics, syntax and semantics, but also the relationship between the language and the Misak worldview. In addition, we could create bilingual educational materials that not only preserve Namtrik, but also promote its use in modern contexts.

One of the most exciting projects I’ve worked on is the creation of a Spanish-Namtrik bilingual dictionary. This dictionary will not only be a tool for the preservation of Namtrik, but also an invaluable resource for bilingual education and linguistic research.

The dictionary will include not only translations, but also examples of use, cultural notes and references to Misak stories and traditions. In addition, the dictionary will be available in print and digital format, which will allow its dissemination in both rural and academic communities.

The development of this dictionary has been a challenge. How to capture the essence of an oral language in a written format? How can we ensure that the dictionary is accessible to both Namtrik speakers and researchers? These challenges have led us to innovate and to work closely with the Misak community.

The dialogue between Namtrik and Spanish is not just a linguistic exchange; it is a meeting of worlds, a bridge between traditions and modernity. This dialogue has the potential to enrich not only the Colombian Academy of Language, but the entire society of Colombia.

Today, I call for action. We need funding and support to publish and disseminate the Spanish-Namtrik bilingual dictionary. This dictionary is not just a book; it is an act of resistance, a step towards the preservation of our linguistic diversity.

Colombia is a country of many voices. Every indigenous language is a treasure that tells us about our history, our identity and our future. The Academy has the power and the responsibility to be a beacon in the preservation of this diversity.

In this vital and academic journey, I have been fortunate enough to have wonderful people who have believed in me, supported my work, and deeply enriched my life with their wisdom and affection. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Dr. Cecilia Balcázar de Bucher, who has played an essential role in following this path. Cecilia, thank you for your generous friendship, for your unconditional support, and for having believed in me from the very beginning.

I also deeply thank my Misak community, especially our elders, to whom I owe my most profound and significant education. Their voices – wise, patient and always willing to teach – are the ones that have nurtured every one of my words and reflections. My achievements are, without doubt, also yours.

Thanks to my family, my friends, my co-workers, students and all the people who have been present in this long journey. To each one of you I owe a part of today’s joy and achievement.

I want to close this speech with an image that summarizes the Misak vision of time and space that I have tried to share with you today, and that also reflects our collective dream of the future:

Our elders teach that time is not a straight line, but a living current that always comes back to itself looking for what has not yet been said. Space, for its part, is not something that is possessed or delimited, but is a “conversed territory”, woven by words and shared steps.

Finally, I would like to leave in your hearts a phrase that reflects our identity and our commitment to the future: “Mananásrɵnkutri mananásrɵnkatik misak misak ɵsik warɵntrap.” (The Misaks will remain in time and space.)

May this Academy, this honorable space of words and knowledge, then be that common hearth from which our voices can continue walking, “rolling up” and “unrolling” together, to build a Colombia that is more just, more diverse, and profoundly proud of all of its cultural roots.

Unkua unkua.

Thank you so much.”

Traducción: https://icmagazine.org/from-silence-to-the-communal-word/