I came across Clorofila whilst looking for somewhere to buy organic food in Bogotá. A discreet place, alongside the shadows and reflections of the trees in Parkway. With its groceries made up of clean vegetables grown in a farm 45 minutes from Bogotá, this shop was born of a kermesse in the El Nogal neighbourhood several years ago. Its creators are Liliana Morales, who has always been interested in healthy cooking, and Leopoldo Serrano, whose family has worked the land for many years.
Leopoldo and Liliana speak about what they are doing with sincerity and freshness. Whilst defending eco-friendly and clean products, they are also honest when they say that people can eat whatever they want. In a country like ours, the interesting thing is that there is a bit of everything, for everyone, whether vegetarian or not, eco-friendly or not, and without having to revert to great philosophies, quests, or spiritual rigmaroles that direct everything we say, use, and consume.
Since talking about freedom and food sovereignty is complex, I’ll restrict myself to the idea that my right to consume is inseparable from my responsibility to know, or at least question, the impact that what I consume has. It’s a simple exercise; asking myself if I really need a new pair of shoes, not forgetting my shopping bag, deciding to leave the car at home and walk. Freedom implies deciding and recognising your own responsibility. “Decide what you like, organic or not, but be informed in your decisions,” I believe that few traders talk to you this way, without wanting to convince you of anything.
This Christmas, I thought the other day, it would be good to give presents that have a low environmental impact. Presents that are completely or largely recycled and recyclable. In Clorofila you can look further into what you buy, and include the producer’s information as part of the present; after all, objects have their own history, and that’s what makes them valuable. Thinking about this as I was walking amongst the shop’s coloured objects, I remembered an anecdote that I’m not sure if I read, imagined or was told: someone in a supermarket, with a lettuce in their hand, asks, “Excuse me, where does this lettuce come from?” to which the shop’s employee responds: “from a lorry.” How short the story of products in large chains can be.
So, it’s worth asking yourself where and who we are buying from. Do they implement fair trade? Do they offer honesty? Are they suppliers who, when they plant their fruits and vegetables, seek to produce wellbeing as well as money? Neighbourhood traders who deal face-to-face with their consumers tend to sell in their shops what they eat at home, and display on their shelves what they serve on their table, and give to their children. Without humbling speeches, without believing themselves the example we should all be following, this is what I found, without adornment, in Clorofila.
