Bachué - Muisca

My story begins in the cool, silent depths of a mountain lake, where the water is as clear as polished jade and the sky above is a vast, endless blue. I remember the feeling of the sun warming the surface, calling me upward. When I rose from the water, the world was quiet and new. I am Bachué, and holding my hand was a small boy who had emerged with me from our watery cradle. We stood on the shore of Lake Iguaque, surrounded by strange, fuzzy plants called frailejones that looked like silent, gentle giants. This is the story of how we, the Muisca people, came to be; it is the myth of Bachué, the mother of us all.

The boy and I left the high mountain lake and walked down into the valleys. The world was empty then, a blank canvas waiting to be filled with life and laughter. As the years passed, the boy grew into a strong man, and he became my husband. We traveled all across the land that is now called Colombia, from the green lowlands to the misty mountain peaks. In every place we stopped to rest, we had children, and soon our family grew so large it was like a forest of people. Our children filled the plains and mountainsides. Can you imagine a family so big it becomes a whole nation? I taught them everything they needed to know to live good lives. "Look, my children," I would say, pointing to the soil, "the earth is a gift. We must thank it by planting seeds with care and harvesting with gratitude." I showed them how to plant maize so it would grow tall and golden, how to dig for potatoes in the rich earth, and how to weave warm cloth from cotton to protect them from the mountain chill. I also taught them how to build sturdy homes from wood and clay. Most importantly, I taught them the laws to live by: to respect the sun, the moon, and the sacredness of water. I taught them to be peaceful, to work together, and to care for one another as one big family. Our family became the Muisca people, and the land was no longer empty. It was filled with our songs, our work, and our love for the world that had been given to us.

After many, many years, my husband and I grew old. Our hair was as white as the mountain snow, and our work was done. The land was full of our descendants, living and thriving according to the laws we had taught them. We knew it was time to return to where we began. We gathered all our children, who were now the leaders of many villages, and said our goodbyes. Then we walked the long path back up into the mountains, back to the shores of sacred Lake Iguaque. Our people followed us, watching quietly. They understood this was not an end, but another part of life's great circle. Standing by the water's edge, my husband and I transformed. Our bodies shimmered and became long and sleek, covered in scales that sparkled like emeralds. We turned into two great snakes, diving together into the cool, clear water. We disappeared into the depths, returning to our first home.

Though my husband and I returned to the water, my spirit never left my people. The Muisca believe I still watch over them from within the lake, ensuring the waters are clean and the people have what they need. My story taught them where they came from and reminded them that all life comes from water. It taught them to protect the lakes and rivers as sacred places, as the very heart of our world. Even today, hundreds of years later, the story of Bachué inspires people. Artists paint pictures of me emerging from the lake, and storytellers share my journey with their children. My myth reminds the people of Colombia of their deep connection to the land and its ancient history. It is a story that flows like a river through time, reminding us all to care for the earth, our first mother, and to remember that we are all part of one great family.