I’ve come to feel that nostalgia is a trap in this place. Lots of people want to turn back time – to even before the colony. Deep down, though, we don’t have anywhere to return to: not to Africa, not to the Middle East. The entire Caribbean had its period of reversion, of wanting to find itself on the old continent, but no one over there knows who we are anymore. We have to accept it – it’s wonderful to accept it. We’ve transformed it all.

I sit up and the wicker creaks again.

Resistance is what has defined us; fear itself is what has defined us. Maybe, if the Raizal struggle is ever to triumph, we have to accept the world, flow through it, understand its rhythm. Colombia isn’t the only thing out there, and Colombia alone didn’t colonise us; decisions were made here, too, and now it’s time for a mature review of the consequences. There’s a difference between accepting the world passively, crying and staring out the window, and making it your own. We have to take it over. We need to understand that we’re the whole and a part of the whole, a reflection of something greater. Now we’re asking for autonomy – so why not simply live autonomously? Autonomy is the full expression of our nature, our exotic nature. Why not make use of what is rightfully ours and give birth to generations that travel beyond the scope of our limiting fictions? In truth, even within the Colombian legal framework, there are many open avenues for establishing – from right here on the islands – our own advanced diplomacy, one that would connect us to the Creole Nation once more. Because that’s what we need – I raise my voice, inflamed – we need to come back together, to understand that we’re not alone.

I shift restlessly in my seat, leaping from idea to idea. I recall everything I’ve heard about the corruption of native governors in the nineties, the rumours about vote-selling in favour of high-impact hotel projects in the prior consultation processes. Jaime stays quiet.

We’ve been short-sighted. Power isn’t something you receive: power is demanded and taken. But here we get all excited whenever the state gives us a passing glance and a consolation prize, or money, to keep us entertained. We’ve been the impulsive teenager for a long time. Now it’s time to grow up. Full stop.

‘Were there Raizales on the National Constituent Assembly?’ Jaime asks. No, I tell him, but there was a group that lobbied for the recognition of special rights through the Afro and indigenous delegations.

After the Constitution of ’91, we regained hope in the state, but that state is built on a nation that is in itself shot through with spiritual questions – divided, sundered.