As A Little Girl Growing Up In Colombia 📥

The most powerful force in the Colombian household, however, is the matriarch. As a little girl growing up in Colombia, your abuela (grandmother) was a healer, a judge, and a historian. She knew which herb (matica) cured a stomach ache and which remedio chased away the evil eye (mal de ojo).

The holiest hour of the day was 8:00 PM, during the novela—usually Betty la Fea or a melodrama dripping with betrayal and secret twins. You would sit on the cool tile floor, resting your head on abuela’s lap, while she knitted a blanket. She would narrate the plot even though she was watching the same screen. “Ay, mija,” she would whisper, “never marry a man like that. Men are like bandeja paisa—too much rice and not enough meat.” These moments were your informal education in psychology, betrayal, and romance. as a little girl growing up in colombia

Play reflects Colombia’s diverse geography and urban-rural divide: The most powerful force in the Colombian household,

Family is the cornerstone of Colombian life. A little girl typically grows up in an extended, close-knit family where grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins play active daily roles. Respect for elders (respeto) and affectionate physical contact—such as hugs, cheek kisses, and holding hands—are normalized from an early age. Godparents (padrinos) also hold significant emotional and ceremonial importance. The holiest hour of the day was 8:00

As a little girl growing up in Colombia, your day never begins with an alarm clock. It begins with the tierra (earth). If you lived in the Eje Cafetero (Coffee Axis), you woke to the smell of wet soil and parchment coffee drying on clay patios. In the bustling capital of Bogotá, you woke to the tiple (a small guitar-like instrument) of a street vendor selling pan de yuca or almojábanas.

Breakfast was a ritual of efficiency and love. My mother would slice a arepa—crunchy on the outside, soft and buttery on the inside—and top it with hogao (a slow-cooked tomato and onion sauce) or a crumble of suero costeño. As a little girl growing up in Colombia, you learned quickly that food is the love language. A bandeja paisa wasn't just a plate; it was a declaration of abundance: beans, rice, chicharrón, avocado, fried egg, and plantain all fighting for space on a single platter.