A young Brunca historian follows her grandfather’s lifelong example of resisting colonialism and protecting the biocultural diversity of her people.
WORDS María Lázaro │ IMAGES María Lázaro and Jessica Lázaro
[Esta es una versión modificada del original en español. Traducción de Andrea Vargas y Peter Tonkin. — Ed.]
[This is a modified version of the original Spanish story. Translation by Andrea Vargas and Peter Tonkin. — Ed.]
Our ancestors died fighting to defend our rights.
“Át qui ya^ ca^yénra María Galiana Figueroa Lázaro“
“Át qui cahuí ra Yímba ta”
“Át qui Bruncájc”
That is what my ancestral language, Brunca, sounds like: Át qui ya^ ca^yénra (“My name is”) María Galiana Figueroa Lázaro, át qui cahuí ra Yímba ta (“I live in Yímba Cájc”), át qui Bruncájc (“I am Brunca*”).
*[Pronounced “Broong-ca”, alternatively spelled Brunka. The people may also refer to both themselves and their language as Boruca. The author uses both terms. — Ed.]
I am the 23‑year‑old bríshba (granddaughter) of José Eusebio Cristino Lázaro Rojas, an Elder known locally as Don* Cristino, who passed away in December 2023.
*[In Spanish, the masculine title “Don” is somewhat equivalent to “Master” and conveys the respect a community accords to a man for his knowledge, wisdom, and experience. — Ed.]
The author with her grandfather, Don Cristino.
I was born in San José, the capital of Costa Rica, where I spent part of my childhood with my parents and elder brothers. From a very young age, my mother taught me, directly and indirectly, about my Indigenous ancestry. This is how I began learning the history, struggles, legends, customs, and traditions of my ancestors. Above all, she taught me to feel proud of being Brunca.
I was still a girl when we moved to Rey Curré (Yímba Cájc in our language). This is a Brunca territory in southern Costa Rica, where my maternal family lives. I grew up with my Só^ (grandmother), Cruz Ortiz Rivera, and my Xasúj (grandfather), Don Cristino. At first, I attended the local primary school, then in 2018 I enrolled at Yímba Cájc Indigenous College. Finally, I moved back to San José to study at the National University, Heredia Campus, majoring in History.
Respect for Our Knowledge-Keepers
My mother, María Dominga Lázaro Ortiz, is the eldest sibling. She taught me that my grandparents were prominent members of our community, and that we should show them respect – not only to them, but to all Elders. For us, Indigenous people, the foundation of our culture is our Elders. Thanks to them, all our knowledge is handed down from generation to generation. Accordingly, we consider our grandparents our highest authorities. To be sure, my grandfather, Don Cristino, was one of the most respected.
The author’s grandparents in their younger days, with one of their daughters, María Clarita Lázaro Ortiz.
A Leader in the Fight for Indigenous Rights
By all accounts, Don Cristino was an outstanding Indigenous leader. He made it his mission to defend the rights of the First Peoples and prioritize the conservation of our ecosystems. For example, in his personal diary he was emphatic: “Our ancestors (…) died fighting to defend our rights” (translation). Indeed, he strove to impress upon others, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, how vital Mother Earth is for the Bruncas:
“Our parents told us how happy their existence on this earth was; our God Sibú illuminated the fields with tenderness, and beneath his light, we could walk all the hills and valleys without fear and hunt, fish and gather fruits. The Goddess Rain bathed our fields of nuts and plants and gave them to use for food, which kept us strong and healthy; the land was all ours and we could move our palenques [ranches] to the place that best suited us; we were sovereign and free like the deer and the quetzal.” (translation)
Painting by the author’s uncle, José Eusebio Lázaro Ortiz, depicting the Boruca way of life and the rich biodiversity of their territory.
They took our women and gave them children that we did not ask for, they flogged us, tortured us, cut off our ears and flayed our skin, forced us to live around their churches.
Land Conservation and Anti-colonialism
Don Cristino’s respect for all that Sibú (God) gave us was evident throughout his life. To protect our natural heritage, over time he founded various organizations for the conservation of Brunca lands. Additionally, his teachings always featured the struggles of the people of Yímba Cájc and other communities. For instance, his personal diaries contain many vivid descriptions of what was at stake for the Boruca:
“We have continued to lose all this ever since the day we crossed paths with the Spanish and their crosses, their shields, their swords, and other lethal weapons which cause invisible death. They stole our golden idols; they took our women and gave them children that we did not ask for, they flogged us, tortured us, cut off our ears and flayed our skin, forced us to live around their churches; our children were captured and enslaved in Matina and Cartago. NO, this must stop, and never be forgotten.” (translation)
Painting by the author’s uncle depicting the Fiesta de los Diablitos, an annual Boruca festival. Men wearing demon masks reenact a historical event in which Boruca warriors in masks scared away the invading Spaniards. The Spaniards are represented by a man dressed as a bull.
My grandfather was clear: the colonial culture in Costa Rica owes a historical debt to Indigenous peoples within its borders. Nevertheless, he saw our ancestors’ struggles as an inspiration to continue tackling the inequalities and problems in Yímba Cájc. Clearly, Don Cristino is an important figure in our regional history. So it is essential for outsiders who want to understand our people to know about his legacy.
Struggles against Colonial Extractive Industries
From a young age, Don Cristino had a prime example of leadership in his father, Juan de la Cruz Lázaro, who was justice of the peace. His father was responsible for resolving conflicts in Yímba Cájc over land and claims of damages to animals or crops. Therefore, our community considered my great-grandfather the supreme authority. The Second Congress on Indigenous Peoples records that in 1956, for personal reasons, Don Cristino replaced his father. Crucially, he had the support of two Elders, Espíritu Santo Maroto of the Boruca people and Evaristo Reyes Villanueva of the Térraba people, both also justices of the peace.
The Brunca protest incursions into their territory, 2001. Banner: “The youth of Rey Curré are joining the struggle” (translation)
In 1962, Don Cristino became an auxiliary police officer, a position that drew him more deeply into various community struggles. For example, on the 6th of May 1985, the people of Yímba Cájc, Boruca and Térraba organized against Carlos Piedra, an invader who was removing large quantities of timber from Boruca territory. And the following year, 1986, the people of Yímba Cájc, Boruca, Ujarras, Terraba, Salitre and Cabagra confronted another invader, Franklin Víquez. Eventually they reclaimed 40 cut blocks* which belonged to the communities.
[In forestry, a cut block is an area with defined boundaries authorized for harvest. The local Boruca community had never authorized any such harvest. — Ed.]
Predictably, the authorities responded by sending forty-two Indigenous demonstrators from these communities to Pérez Zeledón prison. It was Álvaro López, the lawyer representing the Indigenous Association of Costa Rica, who informed them of the charges: illegal occupation of a public space and aggravated damage. Subsequently, the Association had to pay 41,000 colons* for their release.
*[In 1986 dollars, approx. US$82, today worth US$235, not an insubstantial sum for the community. — Ed.]
The author’s grandfather at home. Inscription on the reverse side: “Cristino in conversation with an instructor from the national law enforcement force, 1997.”
Indigenous Resurgence: Defeating the Boruca Hydroelectric Project
One of my grandfather’s greatest struggles, which he highlighted in his writings, was against the Boruca Hydroelectric Project. In 1978 the peoples of Ujarrás, Salitre, Cabagra, Térraba, Boruca and Yímba Cájc took over the civic center of Buenos Aires canton [in the Costa Rican province of Puntarenas] as a form of protest and rejection of the project. Indeed, this project threatened every Indigenous and non-Indigenous community in the Dí^ Crí^ (Térraba River) basin.
The original plans of Costa Rica’s national electricity supplier involved displacing 1,600 persons, including 500 Indigenous people.
According to the Dítsö Association*, Costa Rica’s national electricity supplier planned to displace 1,600 persons, including 500 Indigenous people. Don Cristino, together with other Indigenous leaders, community members, and various organizations, fought this project to avoid large-scale ecological destruction in southern Costa Rica. As a result, his contribution was widely acknowledged in conferences, workshops, and meetings. Those who knew him frequently commented that he was a great leader, strong and proud of his roots and activism.
*[Asociación de iniciativas populares dítsö. — Ed.]
First daily meeting of leaders of the Indigenous communities of Yímba Cájc and Boruca, April 2 to 8 (no year is given).
There was a huge slaughter of all types of forest animals, in the rivers the poisoning of the fish and shrimp and the slaughter of the crocodiles, forest fires, illegal logging, and the collapse of rivers and gorges.
The Fight to Protect the Borucas’ Natural Resources
One of Don Cristino’s many initiatives was to seek out people who shared his interest in conservation. Consequently, beginning in 1979, he played a role in creating various organizations to eradicate poaching and pollution. The scale of the problem is evident in the minutes of the Second Congress on Indigenous Peoples:
”In Rey Curré (…) there was a huge slaughter of all types of forest animals, in the rivers the poisoning of the fish and shrimp and the slaughter of the crocodiles, forest fires, illegal logging, and the collapse of rivers and gorges.” (translation)
Moreover, it was difficult to patrol these zones because some rangers were only paid monthly, and only two volunteers were available.
The author’s grandfather, Don Cristino, in a moment of reflection (undated).
Since there were more women than men in the community, the affected communities founded an organization for Indigenous women. In this way, the division of tasks became clear. The men were to work in the fields, while the women, the vast majority of whom were artisans, were to support their community through the sale of crafts. In 1985, volunteers organized to train progressive-minded people and explore ways of defending the region’s natural resources. They became the South Pacific Regional Indigenous Council*, with board members from six Indigenous communities in Corredores, Coto Brus and Buenos Aires cantons.
*[Consejo Indígena Regional del Pacífico Sur. — Ed.]
Joining My Grandfather’s Fight for Biocultural Renewal
The author in traditional Brunca dress. She is holding a bowl carved from a gourd, an example of Boruca arts sold in her family’s artisanal shop.
Numerous projects kept my grandfather busy with meetings, tours of other towns and conferences in San José, the capital. Sometimes, I accompanied him with my father, or simply observed the meetings of the Council. I was still too young to grasp all the issues and processes to be able to participate fully.
I base my presentations both on my readings and the oral history transmitted by my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and mother.
Despite my young age, with my mother I frequently joined Don Cristino in his activism. For example, when I was only three, I marched in demonstrations against the Boruca Hydroelectric Project. Our protest route usually followed the Inter-American Highway. Later, I joined my grandfather’s cause by volunteering at the National Museum and joining the Yímba Cájc Community Museum Group.
As a historian, I share the history of Yímba Cájc with anyone who takes an interest in our culture. I have taught classes to college groups in the capital, delivered workshops, both nationally and internationally, on the production of crafts, and taken tourists and students on small excursions into my community. I base my presentations both on my readings and the oral history transmitted by my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and mother. This is how I honor their legacy and their efforts to maintain our age-old culture.
Jicaro Artisanal Shop: A Hub of Boruca Biocultural Renewal
Sign directing visitors to Jicaro, the Lázaro family’s crafts store. Don Cristino, in his hammock, is surrounded by Boruca men in traditional masks for the annual Diablitos festival. The festival reenacts the routing of the invading Spaniards by Boruca warriors wearing demon masks.
My family runs a Brunca crafts shop named Jicaro. Over the years, visitors have come back at every opportunity because my grandparents were friendly and kind to everyone. However, Don Cristino focused his efforts on nature conservation and the rights of Indigenous people. So, for decades, Jicaro was managed by my Só^ (grandmother), Cruz Ortiz Rivera. Her father, Gregorio Nájera Valdez, taught her how to make crafts from gourds. But I want to point out that traditionally, we Brunca used all our crafts in our daily life. Originally, we never intended to sell any. Indeed, as my Uncá^ (uncle) José Eusebio Lázaro Ortiz and the author Daniel Leiva Leiva explained in their Review of Cultural Heritage:
“Only after the arrival of outsiders did [the Bruncas] observe that the natural objects in their homes might have a commercial value, and with the passage of time, these objects evolved in a natural way, or diversified through training in modern techniques, and came to fulfill a very important role in the economic sustainability of the households in Rey Curré.” (translation)
Boruca Crafts: Reclaiming Our Ancestral Livelihoods
After the construction of the Inter-American Highway (1954 to 1962), non-Indigenous people began to arrive here in greater numbers. This process had already begun in 1929 with the establishment of the banana plantation in Palmar. Consequently, more than 41 years ago, my Só^ (grandmother) began to sell gourd crafts. The price started at 2 colons per piece and rose slowly over the decades.
Painting by the author’s uncle depicting a Boruca woman surrounded by the rich biodiversity of her ancestral territory. Fauna and flora merge with Indigenous art in the form of hand-painted gourds.
She taught all her children to be artisans, giving them the theoretical and practical knowledge to create each piece. Meanwhile, she exhibited her work at national fairs, and was recognized for preserving her father’s knowledge, processes, and designs. When she died, the store passed to my mother, with the support of her brothers.
The land on which our shop stands was once a ranch. In 2019 we renovated the shop, but in a way that honored the spirit of my grandparents.
That is to say, our vision is to continue to sell crafts as my grandmother did, representing Brunca culture with symbolic objects such as boats, depictions of ranches, and masks made from recycled materials, along with family photographs. To preserve the past, we have also built a small museum to honor the lifelong work of my grandparents.
Shedding Light on a History Obscured by Colonialism
As I got older, I began to see how vital my grandparents were to the well-being of our people. So I always asked questions and listened attentively to their stories. Many of these were fascinating, and my curiosity grew and grew. Still, you must remember that there are often many gaps in the histories of Indigenous peoples. As a result, my grandparents could not answer all my questions.
The dominant, colonial culture in Costa Rica banned, modified, or destroyed parts of our oral tradition, and is responsible for this erasure of Brunca biocultural heritage.
The reason for these gaps is clear: parts of our history have been erased on purpose. Don Cristino explained that the colonial culture in Costa Rica – which banned, modified or destroyed parts of our oral tradition – is responsible for this erasure of Brunca biocultural heritage. Of course, these revelations sparked my growing interest in my own culture. Suddenly, I felt an urge to find these missing pieces of information, which my grandparents lacked.
Vintage photo displayed in the author’s family’s artisanal store. Brunca men and boys wearing traditional masks participate in the Fiesta de los Diablitos, which reenacts a historic conflict with invading Spaniards.
It is thanks to my grandparents that I took a history degree. Indeed, I feel great pride in being their granddaughter. And although I may not achieve as much as they did in life, I try to help my people by sharing my knowledge in a way that respects its source and leaves as small an ecological footprint as possible. Most importantly, I hope to continue our community’s struggle by sharing my grandparents’ legacy: the fortitude of Brunca women and of leaders like Don Cristino, and the ongoing reclamation of our lands, traditions, and language.
My skin – brown like the earth which witnessed my birth and which, despite having been pillaged for 500 years, has lost none of its splendor.
Our Blood Carries the Promise of Indigenous Renewal
The author in traditional Brunca dress. She is holding a bowl carved from a gourd, an example of Boruca arts sold in her family’s artisanal shop.
I feel deeply honored that my grandfather and grandmother both instilled in me pride in being a young Indigenous woman. Certainly, I am also grateful to my mother for having taught me to be proud of my roots and to love myself as I am: my skin – brown like the earth which witnessed my birth and which, despite having been pillaged for 500 years, has lost none of its splendor – and my hair, dark and long as night itself, as well as my language, beliefs, customs, and culture.
Many of our ancestors have died, but others live, and others are yet to be born.
So, the blood of my grandfather, the late Don Cristino, and of my grandmother, the late Cruz Ortiz Rivera, runs through my veins. And this blood is full of their wisdom, knowledge and way of life, and their respect and love for the biocultural diversity of the land they lived on and cared for.
“Our foreign adversaries arrived at our paths, cut off our branches and trunks and burnt us, but could NOT destroy our roots. And all this we owe to our mother Earth and our Goddess, Water, since our mother Earth gave shelter to our roots and our Goddess, Water, irrigated our fields so that everything would sprout and revive. Many of our ancestors have died, but others live and yet others are yet to be born; it is to them that our tireless struggle will be dedicated.” (translation).
Don Cristino, the author’s grandfather, relaxing at home on his hammock.
“The Lázaro Rojas family announces the passing of our beloved Cristino Lazaro Rojas (15 Dec. 1936 – 19 Dec. 2023)”
María Galiana Figueroa Lázaro is 23 years old and lives in Costa Rica, in the Indigenous territory of Rey Curré. She studied History at the National University of Costa Rica. From an early age, she has felt drawn to issues relating to her people, the Boruca. Recently she started making her own small contribution toward ensuring that others can learn about and begin to understand Indigenous people.
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