Nos gusta volver a los eventos históricos que terminan definiendo la identidad colectiva de un país. Y aunque muchos de estos eventos hayan sido cubiertos en su momento, nos interesa ir más allá de lo que pasó. Nos gusta encontrar esos personajes complejos que ayudan a humanizar las historias y a ponerlas en contexto: ¿qué efectos tiene en una población una herida que se deja abierta? Exploramos la respuesta a esa pregunta en estos siete episodios.   1. Los niños perdidos En noviembre de 1985, una erupción volcánica arrasó con el pueblo colombiano de Armero y lo enterró debajo de toneladas de rocas y lodo. Entre los sobrevivientes había varios niños pero, en el caos, fueron trasladados a otros lugares y nunca se volvió a saber de ellos. Tres décadas han pasado y todavía queda una pregunta: ¿Qué pasó con los niños desaparecidos? 2. Detrás del muro Sodalitium Christiane Vitae, una organización católica ultraconservadora también conocida como el Sodalicio, se fundó en 1971, en Perú. Su misión era formar jóvenes disciplinados, con rigor militar, casi monjes. Pero el orden, la disciplina y la ideología del Sodalicio escondía muchos secretos. ¿Qué pasó dentro de sus muros? 3. La noche más larga El 6 de noviembre de 1985, la guerrilla M-19 tomó el Palacio de Justicia de Colombia. El ejército y la policía reaccionaron rápido, y durante 28 horas el edificio se convirtió en un campo de batalla. Hoy, 33 años después, las familias de dos hombres que estaban en el edificio siguen con dudas sobre lo que pasó ese día. 4. El fotógrafo Una docena de personas estaban desaparecidas cuando terminó la toma del Palacio de Justicia, el 7 de noviembre de 1985. A muchas de las familias de los desaparecidos les tomaría décadas descubrir la verdad; y algunas encontrarían las respuestas en lugares que nunca imaginaron posibles. 5. Los 43 + 11 Una noche del pasado noviembre, Laurence Maxwell fue al centro de la ciudad de México para participar en una protesta pacífica en solidaridad con los 43 normalistas desaparecidos de Ayotzinapa, y tuvo que enfrentarse con la violencia del sistema de justicia mexicano. 6. Narcotours Pablo Escobar murió hace 25 años en Medellín, Colombia. Hoy, a pesar del sufrimiento que provocó, en la ciudad se ofrecen al menos 15 recorridos turísticos diseñados alrededor de su figura. Hicimos uno para saber cuál es la historia sobre Escobar que se cuenta en ellos, y averiguar qué pueden enseñarnos sobre la relación de la ciudad con su pasado doloroso. 7. La importancia de llamarse Ernesto Ernesto Gómez creció como un chico mexicano más en la ciudad de Chihuahua. Pero cuando cumplió diez años, tuvo que enfrentar un pasado de luchas clandestinas que puso en duda su nacionalidad, su familia y hasta su propio nombre.

[soundcloud id=\'148690292\'] With the rerun of the episode \"The Contestant\", on NPR, we\'d like to share with our listeners the song \"Basta Carajo\", that plays at the end of the story. This song was written by Vilma Sánchez, the mother of Ruth Thalía. Here, you can listen to a cappella version that Vilma sang for us on the day of her interview.

Listen to the complete story here.

David Pastor interviewed José de la O and Miguel Melgarejo, the creators of Fuera de Contexto, a podcast about design and innovation. For those who haven’t heard an episode of Fuera de Contexto, what is the podcast about? José and Miguel: We tell stories about people that use their ingenuity and creativity to resolve some kind of problem and/or achieve a dream. In the beginning, our podcast was primarily focused on designers and people working in creative fields, but we’ve realized that these types of stories are also very universal, and can connect with people that aren’t necessarily familiar with these disciplines. Fuera de Contexto is a totally independent podcast. We don’t have the support of a network or public radio, which means there are a lot of challenges, but also a lot of freedom. We like to think that it’s a modern version of the Fanzine, with nothing in terms of budget, but with a lot of attitude and character. How did the podcast get started? In other words, what was the initial motivation? José and Miguel: The two of us met while we were both working in the Netherlands and we realized that we were among the few Mexicans we knew that had a love and a passion for podcasts. That was a key factor in forming our friendship, and eventually we ventured into this project together. The exact moment of its birth came when José returned to live in México. Both of us saw it as an opportunity to continue exchanging ideas and to link our contacts in order to generate strong stories for our setting. Still, to be honest, the biggest motivation has always been to start from nothing, to challenge ourselves, to get to know people and stories --and to share those stories with the world. The podcast is still a very new medium, and some people have never used it or don’t know what it consists of. How do you present the podcast to new listeners? José and Miguel: The easiest way is to take your cell phone, show them how to use a podcast app, and download our favorite episodes (of our podcast and of others) right there on the spot so that they can listen later on and fall in love with the medium like we did. Unfortunately, this isn’t a very efficient way of reaching a sustainable amount of listeners. What we have tried to do is to contact other podcasts that we like (like Radio Ambulante, for instance) and look for opportunities to collaborate in different ways. We firmly believe that more than promoting our podcast, we have to foster attractive offerings in our language for the public. Only then will we be able to make podcasting grow as a medium in the region. It hasn’t been easy, even though we are on our way to making these types of partnerships. What kinds of things do you have in store for the next season of Fuera de Contexto? José and Miguel: We’re giving ourselves a little time to recharge, to explore stories, and find inspiration. We hope to launch the new season in the second part of 2016 with fun, daring stories that aren’t necessarily directly related to design or creation itself. We have an eclectic list of episodes that we would like to do in the future. We have a story in the works about a really interesting house by the architect Luis Barragán. We also have one about the history of certain mysterious and illicit drinks available in some parts of Mexico, and even a live episode we hope to be able to produce soon, among other things. Fortunately, Mexico is a very fertile place for interesting stories. Are there other Spanish-language podcasts that you listen to regularly? José and Miguel: We have a few in mind. José de la O used to listen to Olallo Rubio’s podcast (who is about to launch a podcast platform in this country that seems promising). We know of other shows and platforms that we respect but wouldn’t be able to say we listen to regularly (Puentes, Podcastería, Disruptivo, etc.) In general we haven’t found a strong offering of podcasts in Spanish that tell stories in a creative, absorbing, and interesting way. What do you think the podcast offers radio in general and its Latin American audience? José and Miguel: The podcast (at least in Mexico) is a barely explored medium. Many people, mostly those who produce traditional radio, see the podcast as an alternative of the same product, not as a new medium that has the potential to give its listeners a completely different experience, which is where we think it reaches its true potential. There are fewer and fewer media outlets available in Latin America that allow listeners to empathize, in a creative and original way, with a completely different person. In this region, we are filled with media that, instead of celebrating our reality, ignore it, cover it up, exaggerate it, and ridicule it. We think the podcast, because it is such an intimate setting, can help us to turn and look at ourselves with pride, fun, amusement, and sincerity.

If Peruvians are finally sick of hearing about their food, maybe now is the time to recognize what should be called “the other boom.” I’m referring, of course, to the marketing boom of the last decade. Beginning in 2006 with a promotional campaign entitled “Peru mucho gusto,” the government hasn’t been shy about exploiting the success of Peruvian cuisine abroad. In 2010, they launched Marca Peru, by far one of the most successful nation branding campaigns in the world–winning major awards in the process. But what exactly is nation branding? Well, the concept was developed by an Argentine named Roberto Occhipinti. He coined the term in 1989 and went on to publish a book about it in 2003. It’s basically a way of engaging other countries politically, culturally, and economically. In the case of Peru, world renown chef Gaston Acurio has around 20% of the vote if he decides to run in next year’s presidential election. So yeah, there’s a connection between food and politics even if it’s not that serious. In terms of culture, Peru has more than 80 culinary institutes and more than 80,000 trained chefs. Lima also hosts Mistura, the largest food festival in Latin America. And if your town doesn’t have a Peruvian restaurant yet, it’s a little embarrassing at this point, no? As for economics, the tourism industry doesn’t revolve around Machu Picchu anymore. In 2013, 40% of visitors to Peru said they were there just to try the food. In other words, nation branding works really well–especially when you have a good product and a good story to tell. Peru has both and the two happen to share a close connection. In 1999, the New York Times published an incredibly prescient article on Peruvian cuisine citing these two factors. Despite the culturally insensitive tone of the article, they did refer to Peruvian food as “the original fusion food.” The rest is history. 500 years of fusion, no pun intended. Actually, Gaston Acurio wrote a book with that title. Other countries have launched similar campaigns. A few years ago, I was walking in the subway when I noticed a giant poster that said The Answer is Colombia. That campaign was launched in 2012 as an attempt to show the world that Colombia was no longer the cocaine capital of the world, but rather a safe and vibrant tourist destination. And it worked, which is why other countries are trying  to do the same. Earlier this year, Ecuador spent $3.8 million on a 30 second Super Bowl ad to promote tourism. More effective than the commercial? The shock caused Ecuador purchasing the expensive ad. They went with a Beatles-inspired slogan All You Need is Ecuador, which is part of an ambitious program to grow the country’s tourism in the next five years. There are lot more examples. The list goes on. Nowadays, most countries have some kind of nation branding campaign. Technically, the concept is nothing new. During the Franco era, Spain launched an infamous slogan called Spain is Different in the 1960s. This came after years of unsuccessful attempts to change the image of a country that had isolated itself from the rest of Europe. It was a complete makeover. Like Peru, Spanish cuisine became well regarded. Like Colombia, Spain became an exotic destination for tourism. The phrase was so popular that it has evolved into an inside joke for Spaniards as a way of describing a bizarre situation that could only happen in Spain. In the end, nationalism itself is a bizarre concept, an inside joke that we don’t always agree on or appreciate. Benedict Anderson famously defined a nation as an “imagined political community.” The keyword is political. Otherwise, it sounds like he’s talking about the Internet. In terms of nationalism, it has become a marketing strategy–something Peruvians have turned into an art…so much so that they may want to consider stepping out of the kitchen. If you want to listen to our latest episode about Peruvian Cuisine click here.

I came to know Jazmín’s story through a press release from Tijuana’s Municipal Police. Regional media published the official version of the story practically in its entirety, without questions. The weekly investigative newspaper where I used to work asked me to dig a little deeper into this case. The police file had the phone number of Sonia Reyes, Jasmín’s mother, so I called her to request an interview with her daughter. Jazmín, who was in custody a few days before, agreed to meet me in a crowded restaurant in downtown Tijuana: surrounded by dozens of strangers, in a public place, she felt more secure. She told me that her mother - who had also somehow starred in this story - would come with her, basically because she didn’t know me, and because everything that had happened in recent weeks had given her cause not to trust anyone. I recognized them because they were sitting in the middle of the restaurant, visibly nervous. They were constantly turning to other tables as if trying to recognize among the diners a security agent, or something like that. But once they saw me they seemed to relax and proceeded to tell me their version of events. [ctt title=\"An affectionate act that almost put her in prison\" tweet=\"An affectionate act that almost put her in prison #Tijuana @radioambulante http://ctt.ec/e8h0f+\" coverup=\"e8h0f\"] Theirs was a complete contrast to what the authorities claimed had happened: the policemen asserted that Tanisha King had given Jazmín and Sonia $200 to take care of the two children, and both flatly denied it. Jazmín’s eyes expressed a combination of fear, anger and helplessness. There, seated and six months pregnant, this woman didn’t seem to be the \'alleged undocumented people trafficker\' as the regional media had described her. Rather, in the tone of her voice and the way she expressed herself, I could see that Jazmín was a person with a real genuine interest in the future of the two Nigerian siblings, and that her concern was motivated by neither money nor power. They insisted again and again, throughout the interview, that they would like to see the children, wanted to know how they were, that they missed them. Jazmín\'s son, who is similar in age to the Nigerian siblings, had gotten along well with them. They slept in the same room, shared toys, skated together, had walks on the beach, played soccer. He missed them too. He had gotten used to having two new friends, and the Nigerian siblings had gotten used to family life with Jazmín and Sonia. They claim that the children didn’t want to return to Nigeria, that the kids had a premonition that things would not go well if they went back. They would be killed, as their father had been killed in Belize. They were scared. But Jazmín had no idea of ​​all they had encountered on their way from Africa. It was then that the physician, a friend of the family who spoke English, showed up. He was the first person to really get to know the children and what they had been though. They decided it was time to speak with the authorities, and here the story took an unexpected turn. The last I heard of the siblings was that, after a couple of months in a shelter for minors in Tijuana, they were sent back to Nigeria and a grandmother there who would take care of them. I never heard from Jazmín and her mother again. * Jorge D\'Garay is the producer of the episode The Orphans Did you like what you just read? Follow us on Facebook to find more. Radio Ambulante is a Spanish-language podcast that tells the stories of Latin America.