Cartagena – Meet Gertrudis Written by Yousuf Tilly
Photographed by Edgar Jiménez
There is a fat lady in Cartagena called Gertrudis and, in the
creases of her gigantic bottom, the spirit of Colombia can be
found.
Quite a revelation, I know, it even got me out of bed. More precisely,
my prettier-half couldn’t wait to tell me and kept my mobile
buzzing despite the inconvenient time difference. You see, I couldn’t
make the trip with her though, in retrospect, it was a journey
only she could make. So I relented and took the couch tour of
Cartagena as, after all, the one’s we are closest to often
become the spare eyes through which we see the world.
Gertrude is an anomaly amongst the sculpted-tanned bodies of
Cartagena. To put it into perspective, the Colombian penchant
for cosmetic surgery rivals even L.A, once even setting a record
television rating for a local soapy called ‘Sin tetas no
hay paraiso’ (‘Without tits there is no paradise’).
Too real to objectify, Gertrude’s tree-trunk thighs were
then, in contrast, an inspirational mystery.
Having gained notoriety as an eyesore, afternoon siestas in the
renowned Plaza de Santo Domingo was reportedly made rather revolting
by the heavy-set woman pulled immodestly into a pair of brightly-coloured
lycra shorts. Waddling around her café with incredibly
orange hair, Gertrude unwittingly captured disapproving hearts
by carrying herself with such daring and cheek that, despite offence,
she became an incredibly alluring oddity.
Her naked and voluptuous body still lies provocatively outside
Cartagena’s oldest cathedral where she pulls her elbow back,
raised over her head, to audaciously offer her pert breasts just
the way Botero fashioned her immodestly years ago. Yet, even in
decidedly Catholic Cartagena, this boldness symbolizes a belief
system healthier than the one on TV. It’s no wonder that
young couples still fondle her in the hope to be blessed with
fertility.
Learning much later though that the source of Gertrude’s
stirring legend was none other than a drunken party host, one
tends to reserve judgement. Still, the myth in her deep crack
had worked its magic on my dear lady.
Such is the spirit of Cartagena that some hundred years ago,
when the conquistadors attacked from the sea, the city was saved
by a man with one leg, one arm and one eye. Rebelliousness, I
was glad to find, was not the spirit that consumed my lady when
she braved a bikini for the first time. Instead it was personal
acceptance that carried her across Cartagena’s Bocagrande
beaches, and boy has she tanned beautifully.
“No gracias!” she retorted to my suggesting a photograph
capturing that pivotal moment, and my mobile never buzzed again.
I guess we both got some sleep.
Cartagena is a charming city famous for seafood, Catholicism,
art, Gabriel Garcia Bernez, sunshine and bikinis. I ventured off
the couch because we travel to experience ourselves in different
ways and, if this is what can be found in Gertrude’s crack,
then this I’ve got to see.
Yousuf Tilly is
often mistaken to be a writer because he wrote a film once.
Further confusion ensued when he unveiled a collection of
original oil paintings, but he is neither painter nor scribe.
He is simply passionate about ideas, and the people who breathe
life into them.
