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Thirst of Wind
(Canada/Colombia, 84 minutes)
Directed/Produced by Alejandro Balbuena
In northern Colombia’s La Guajira desert lies a stretch of land now known as El Cerrejón. It has an area of 690 square kilometers, which is larger than the city of Toronto. The population density rarely matches that of a busy city center, but the environmental impact is much worse.
Besides, El Cerrejón is not a city. It is a coal mine and the largest coal mine in Latin America. The site has scarred the traditional territory of the Wayuu people, an indigenous people who have thrived on this land for many years.
Thirst of Wind As a family is forced to move by a foreign company, it tells how these land mines displace them and threaten every aspect of their way of life. Those who remain face depleted water supplies, pollution from toxic chemicals, and even violence against those brave enough to speak out. The film does not name the corporations behind the violent resource extraction that is destroying local communities. (That’s the Anglo-Swiss company Glencore.) Instead, the mine symbolizes a new iteration of colonial violence, as foreign corporations swoop in to plunder the land’s wealth without regard for immediate or long-term consequences.
Director Alejandro Balbuena captures everyday warriors fighting to protect the land for future generations. Thirst of Wind It focuses on three Wayuu figures who oppose the effects of the mine. For example, Jazmine has a strong voice. She articulates the plight of her family and community, situating current struggles within a larger history of colonial and patriarchal currents. But she emphasizes the beauty of the land and the power of nature, and Valbuena’s camera follows her through the lush, picturesque areas she fiercely protects. The film’s stunning cinematography captures the incredible power of these natural landscapes. Lush greenery provides a beautiful canopy that supports local residents.
Moreover, its grandeur emphasizes the overwhelming effect of the mine. The intimate story provides a powerful contrast to the impersonal and ugly mines that ravage the region. This has some of the best large-scale cinematography. Thirst of Wind It captures the true scale of mining operations. Heavy trucks navigate the dizzying zigzag roads and move resources away from their communities. The desolate landscape is reminiscent of a battlefield. Nothing is thriving, there is an overwhelming sense of waste, and surrounding communities are suffering from the fallout.
The film finds another resonant voice conveying this perspective through Misael. He and his family live so close to the mine that whenever an explosion occurs, it echoes throughout their home. He resisted pressure to leave, and the threat became real as the film tells how hundreds of indigenous leaders died in violence while protecting their lands. Like Jazmine, Misael struggles with personal loss. Using legal and political tools, he becomes a leading voice in community campaigns, guided by his dreams and the lessons of his predecessors.
Meanwhile, the film observes how the organized war against the La Guajira community is not limited to mining. Not far from Jazmine and Misael, the elder Tita rallies against large wind turbines encroaching on their land as an alternative energy company sets up shop. They erect huge, noisy turbines throughout the area, including atop the cemetery. The film watches as Tita and members of her community literally unearth the bones of their ancestors as their family’s soul is shaken by corporate greed. She, too, is fighting against a company that refuses to share its profits with the community and whose resulting disruption is miniscule.
Thirst of Wind We weave these connected story lines together to convey a microcosm of the climate crisis. Faced with the devastating consequences of old and new energy practices, communities are asking why places that have sustained the Wayuu people for so long are so quickly used and destroyed by outside interests in such a short period of time. At times the narrative loses focus as the converging threads can be difficult to follow, but there is a bigger picture impression that persists. This is a story of resilience and one of struggle for tradition, land and beauty.
The story emphasizes the need to adapt to the land and its rhythms to sustain the future. The film captures these waves through a poetic interlude that sees Wayuu figures traversing the desert in billowing clothes that add shocking color to the desert landscape. The red is noticeably reminiscent of Wayuu traditions and customs, the yellow fabric is a nod to a life thrown away too soon, and the black adds a veil of mourning. Andrés Galindo Arteaga’s music offers haunting lyricism while utilizing the sounds of traditional instruments. This highlights the longevity of the indigenous people and preserves the sounds of Wayuu culture in the film.
Particularly impressive is the dreamlike scene in which a figure wearing a blue sheet dances wildly. He conjures up images of hunger and thirst, mouths open beneath clothes against the wind. The sheets only catch the wind and cannot support him.
Of all the attractive images within Thirst of WindBut the last shot may have the most power. Valbuena’s camera observes a beautiful river, whose tranquil waters feed the lush greenery surrounding it. This healthy oasis provides everything the community needs. There is only the desolate river bed seen elsewhere in the film, and a man-made dam separating the community, which is left dry. This film makes the bold claim that the water will flow again.