Colombian Tribe Races to Save Ancient Fishing Traditions

Deep in Colombia's Vaupés region, Indigenous fishers are catching more than dinner. They're fighting to keep centuries of wisdom alive.

The Macaquiño community has lived along the Vaupés River for generations, depending on its waters for food, transportation, and spiritual connection. Their ancestors developed ingenious fishing methods that worked with nature's rhythms, using handwoven traps made from palm leaves and carefully timed techniques that prevented overfishing.

But something precious is slipping away. Community elders say fewer young people know how to craft traditional tools like the matapí, an elegant fish trap woven from patabá palm. Even fewer understand the seasonal rules that once protected fish populations during breeding season.

"We don't just care for the land. We coexist with it," says Manuel Claudio Fernández, the community's captain. That coexistence means respecting the forest, water, and the delicate balance between them.

Modern fishing gear like longlines and mesh nets have made catching fish easier, but at a cost. Fish populations are declining, and with them, the traditional knowledge passed down through generations. Young fishers no longer learn which species spawn in which lagoons, or how water cycles dictate when to fish and when to let nature replenish itself.

The community still uses some ancestral techniques. During the dry season, fishers place matapí traps upstream, covering them with leaves and leaving small openings for fish to enter. The hanging dorido trap uses a clever spring mechanism that launches to the surface when fish take the bait.

Why This Inspires

The Macaquiño aren't just preserving quaint traditions. They're protecting fishing methods refined over centuries to sustain both people and ecosystems. Their ancestral calendar, dictated by rainy and dry seasons, includes natural conservation periods when fish breed undisturbed.

Past generations even used natural poisons called barbasco in controlled ways, overseen by community wise people who prayed to minimize environmental impact. These weren't just fishing trips but sacred rituals connecting humans to water and forest.

Julian de Jesus Madrid Correa, a community member, remembers what elders taught him. "In the past, they didn't exploit it," he explains. Fishing was about sustenance and respect, not just economic need.

The knowledge gap worries leaders like Carlos Castañeda Hernández from Colombia's sustainable development agency. Without traditional oversight, some communities now use techniques that "destroy everything without limit."

But awareness is growing, and the Macaquiño are working to pass their wisdom forward before it's too late.