‘So how do we situate ourselves now that Colombia’s never getting out of here? I’m here, you’re here, thousands of other people with roots here are part of that official History, the one that serves to Hispanicize San Andrés. What good does state-sponsored autonomy do us – if, for example, people in Bluefields are getting their land stolen for the sake of foreign interests?’ I swipe a hand through the air and stand up to pace before the sliding door as it thrums. Jaime looks me up and down. ‘Nicaragua granted autonomy to the Creole region, but that hasn’t meant much yet.’

‘I think what we need is to decolonise ourselves, right, so we can stop looking to the state as a reference point and start looking inward. Making different life choices means acknowledging that resistance is pointless if what we want is to shake up the system, not just control it.’ I finish and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. And one for Jaime, who stands up and follows.

‘Hey, that’s a pretty anarchic thought,’ he says, making his way down the hallway along the dining room.

It’s the only version that makes sense to me. A utopia.

‘Jaime,’ I tell him, ‘hoteliers are hoteliers. They’ll never stop wanting to build hotels – the Monteros, the Bashirs, the Garcías, no matter what they’re called.’

Entrepreneurs are what they are. They’ll never stop wanting to sell cheap liquor. I open the fridge and reach quickly for the pitcher so the cold air won’t escape.

No one, no government, will ever grant communal land titles in a way that affects their taxpayers’ sense of security. Right? I tell him about the Raizal statute. Nor are the mainlanders going to let irregular migrants in if their sectors demand cheap labour from workers who will last more than a month on the job.

This country is a mess. We’re in a delicate situation, and the only way for this land to prevail, for the reserve to be saved, is by changing profoundly. We have to shift our focus – from money for consumption to wealth for wellbeing. We have to conserve the forest, plant crops, make use of the land, reduce dependency. We have to stop fortifying a production and consumption chain that leaves only trash in its wake. That’s what mass tourism is, that’s what it feeds on: confusion, division. To an extent, identity has been a distraction. A native, a Raizal, can return to that balance better than anyone. That’s why it’s important for them to be recognised as guardians of the territory, but they need to expand by themselves, far beyond the state, or that monster will engulf them forever. Jaime looks as me as intently as he can, like the eagle peeking out from under his shirtsleeve. I smile through my vehemence, picturing my fantasy come to life.