International Migrants Day is celebrated on 18 December. Last year, an institutional event was held at the Alhóndiga in Bilbao in cooperation with the social partners and I was invited to participate. There I had an unbeatable opportunity to meet new creators and, above all, to read and interpret poems from Miren Agur Meabe. “What a gift!” I thought. I love poetry. Miren's poetry fascinates me and also admires him. These poems are not published, either in Basque or in Spanish, think about the treasure.

When I read it, I immediately felt the truth they keep, in them I saw myself reflected. Every word spoke to me, it put my migratory journey in my body, it brought to my head what I was, what came to this territory and what I am today. All my emotional processes all of a sudden accumulated me. And somehow I felt free. Understood, taken into account, look from a deep respect. Those poems excited me.

After the presentation was over, a few days later, I thought: “How beautiful it would be to go through Euskal Herria sharing these poems.” It's a good opportunity to put together different views, to get them to know us both here and there. Contribute to generating thought and sensitivity. “I’m going to use the drum from My Colombia, I’m going to create a little performance,” I said. But because I'm here to create alone and without money, to work with my nails, before I created the project I was looking for shelter and financial help.

Perhaps, to start with, I thought it might be a good opportunity to go to the consulate of Colombia. I asked for an appointment and they gave it to me. With the consul I met with enthusiasm in his office to make the project known. To my surprise, the first thing he told me when I sat before him was: “All the activities we carry out here are carried out in Spanish, and we are interested in promoting Colombian culture.” With your eyes like a plate. To the good adector, a few words. OK, I get it. I met in myself. At the end of the meeting, when I went out to the Gran Vía de Bilbao, I felt a great pity, a shame. Why not build bridges between cultures? Why not bring the people of Colombia closer to the culture here? Why not encourage coexistence? In short, those of us who come from Colombia live here. Here or anywhere else. Wherever you go, there will be indigenous culture, that or that, but there will always be one or more indigenous cultures. And not as a threat, but waiting to be understood, to be learned.

“Have a rope so you don’t get lost on the roads. From scratch. Starting from zero, starting from its four walls. Walk a maze. We walked through a maze and found the phoenix on the curves. Pronounce your name. Pronounce your name as if your name picked up your destination. Whispering an old truth. Whispering an old truth. We are all migrants.” Look at Agur Meabe.