La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me)

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project © Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project © Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project View all images ↓
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This is a personal journal that portrays the contradictions upon my return to my home country, Venezuela, after 14 years away. As part of a long healing process I went back to the womb to reconnect with my sense of belonging in the middle of a turmoil.

This is a personal journal that portrays my return to my home country, Venezuela, after 14 years of not being able to visit it. In the summer of 2024, as part of a long healing process, I was able to return to the Matria (the motherland); to the womb and my very first nest. I went back to gather parts of me that were still scattered there, and reconnect with my roots; now as an adult woman. I did a road trip from the Capital through the Caribbean, and the Andes, with my 74 year old mother driving us through many places that meant a lot for us. 

I decided to photograph from my gut feeling, connecting to the idea of what it means to be present there, and in my body. The everlasting anxiety that overwhelmed me during so many years of living in the diaspora, without a strong sense of belonging, finally disappeared. Suddenly, time felt as if it passed differently, calm was now present, my body recognized the salt of the Caribbean breeze, the taste of the fruit, and the sounds from the local birds. Maybe the time apart takes a different scale when one returns to something so familiar. 

I realised that paradise, with all of its tragic (and magic) realism, also inhabits within me. With all of its beautiful exuberance and its very deep wounds. Venezuela and I, full of our very own contradictions, and despite the time, were able to embrace each other again.

However, it turns out that time did pass for both of us, and a lot has been torn apart over the last decades. How much has my motherland suffered these years? I asked what the macaws and the vultures had seen. I searched for clues among the dying coral reefs and at the top of the foggy Andes peaks. I found myself in a Venezuela that’s been gravely injured by colonialism and the ongoing socio political crisis, oppressed by a narco-government that does not respect human rights, that rapes its natural resources to the point of an ecocide, and that kidnaps any possible hope for change. The bodies there live in constant alarm with the survival instinct fully activated by a million tensions and uncertainties. I was able to see the time that I missed reflected in the ruins of once prosperous buildings, on the tired gazes, on the children that have never seen a different reality, on the memories trapped like ghosts of a population that left, and that makes the largest migration wave worldwide.

Now, as I digest the images back in my home in Barcelona, I am able to put together the contradictions of belonging to such a tragic paradise, of the calm and the anxiety. I process their meaning with a poetic approach in search of continuing the catarsis.  


© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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'The womb'. Entrance to a place of ceremonial rituals from earlier indigenous settlements. Cueva del Indio. Chichiriviche, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Andreina, a girl I met while offering portraits to the community Dance School Costa Latina.////////View from the area of ceremonial rituals into the sky, once used by earlier indigenous settlements.Chichiriviche, Falcon. Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Mangle (Mangrove) in the Caribbean language means twisted tree. They are in fact tolerant trees that mediate the marine biome with the land, they are a habitat for many species and also prevent erosion of the land. Many of them at risk for pollution and destruction from government fund buildings that do not respect the reserve . Morrocoy National Park. Falcon, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Petroglyphs carved over 3600 years ago by the indigenous settlements 'Caquetios' at the Cueva del Indio, where they used to praise the sun. ///////José, a boy I met in Chichiriviche. Falcon, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - A local bird nest. Charallave, Venezuela.
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A local bird nest. Charallave, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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My uncle Germán, aka Captain Danger because of his mischievous past as a marine captain, he wears an anchor with a cross on his chest. ////The Virgen del Valle, at the Cave of the Virgins in Morrocoy National Park. Chichiriviche, Falcon.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Agua Mala (Bad water) is how we call the jellyfish. This year is the first time they registered so many of them so close to the shore, this is a result of climate change with warmer waters - I think is not them the bad ones. Choroni, Aragua. Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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We rode a motocycle through sand, pass a new 'glamping' business by the sea and right after the town's hidden dump aerea. The shore was covered with dead fish that seemed to be affected by high temperatures and pollution. This is a naturally pink water and is also treated as a dump. Chichiriviche, Falcon. Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Wild entrance to Chuao, a sea town that can only be reached by boat, they live from fishing and cacao known as some of the best of the world. However, most all of their cacao is owned by 1 Japanese businessman. Chuao, Aragua./ Abandoned car outside a house in the Andes, it has become normal to see many abandoned properties around due to the high migration rates and devaluation of local property.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Fisherman cutting the manta ray of the day. It makes one of the main dishes of the region. /////Andrés showing me his wounds, after an accident he had a facial reconstruction and has nails holding part of his face and body. His eyes are now very sensitive. Yet still carry all the knowledge of the sea he has learned from his fisherman father and just by growing up in Chichiriviche.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Andrés and the seashell he gifted me. I brought it back to Barcelona, and when anxiety takes over me, I hold it by my ear and transport myself to that place between the Mangroves in the Caribbean. It is now my bit of paradise.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Machete.My hand full of freshly picked wild berries. Los Andes, Venezuela.
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Machete.My hand full of freshly picked wild berries. Los Andes, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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White horse with pink coloured hair. It was used for tours, and perhaps that made it more attractive for children to demand rides. Los Andes, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Skinny cow, like some many in Venezuela, they are also hungry. Los Andes, Venezuela.
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Skinny cow, like some many in Venezuela, they are also hungry. Los Andes, Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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The goat that used to be kept around a small residential village in the outskirts of Caracas, it has now disappeared, we suspect the neighbours ate it. //// My 98 year old grandmore, Carmen Rosa, she now lives at a nursing home, she has senile dementia. When people lose their mind, we say they are like goats.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Macaw overlooking Caracas. So many of them live on the edges of the city and fly around to get fed at different homes. ///// Fence painted with the colors of the Venezuelan flag, an old colonial home sits in the background.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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The ruins of the first home my parents had before my birth. In 1999 this town was washed away by a landslide, it rained for 15 days nonstop, the river outgrew and took everything on its way, properties, and lives. The floor tiles of my parents home still remain, it was the first time my mother visited the place ever since she left over 40 years ago. Many ruins still remain intact. Los Corales.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Landscape from the river of Chuao. Aragua Venezuela.
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Landscape from the river of Chuao. Aragua Venezuela.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Image from the La Matria que me parió (the motherland that bore me) photography project
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Fog over the highest peak in Venezuela, El Pico Bolivar. Named after Simon Bolivar, a military officer who played a central role in the South American independence movement.////Blanca Haddad, Venezuelan artist and poet, she has been very outspoken about her opposition to the government, she refuses to disappear regardless the many oppressive measures taken to those who speak up.

© Jahel Guerra Roa - Cross between the fog at the Pico (Peak)Bolivar, a sign of colonial conquering. The Andes, Venezuela.
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Cross between the fog at the Pico (Peak)Bolivar, a sign of colonial conquering. The Andes, Venezuela.