“They tried to hide us from the Pope, you know?” The whisper comes from behind a fruit stall overflowing with mangoes and papayas. You find yourself in the heart of Ceballos, a historic barrio in Cartagena. Here, the laughter of children playing echoes off brightly painted houses, and the aroma of arepas sizzling on street corners fills the air. But Ceballos holds a history of resilience, a history tightly woven with the Virgen de Ceballos.
The Virgen de Ceballos isn’t a grand statue in a cathedral. It’s a humble image displayed in the home of a local family, a symbol of hope and protection for this community. Ceballos has long been a refuge for those displaced by Colombia’s armed conflicts. The unpaved streets and modest homes have witnessed both the joys and sorrows of its people, many of whom make a living through informal work. In a city famed for its beauty, Ceballos often felt forgotten.
Then, in 2017, Pope Francis announced a visit to Cartagena. The city buzzed with excitement. Yet, anxiety soon replaced hope in Ceballos. The authorities, eager to present a polished image of Cartagena, erected large barriers along the main road leading to the Pope’s mass. They effectively walled off Ceballos, their actions a stark contrast to the Pope’s message of unity and focusing on the marginalized.
The residents of Ceballos, however, refused to be silenced. They saw the barriers as a symbol of the continued neglect and disregard they faced. Outrage rippled through the community. Some residents even began to tear down the barriers. “A new walled city,” they called it, a bitter echo of Cartagena’s colonial past. While the mayor denied authorizing the barriers, the people of Ceballos felt betrayed, their struggles made invisible, their voices silenced once more. The Virgen de Ceballos, a silent witness to it all, remained a beacon of hope, reminding them of their strength and resilience, even in the face of adversity.