Palenque: The First Free Town and the Living Legacy of Liberation

My Introduction to Palenque

Before arriving in Cartagena, I had never heard of San Basilio de Palenque. Not in school, not in documentaries—not anywhere.


That changed the day I joined a tour with a bus full of other Black travelers, heading 45 minutes outside the city.


Our guide, Victor, began weaving stories of Cartagena’s Walled City, the pirates who once haunted its shores, and the revolutionary people of a lesser-known town—the Palenqueros.


It was the first time I heard that Palenque is considered the first free Black town in the Americas. But it wasn’t until I stepped off that bus and felt the energy of the soil beneath my feet that I fully understood the magnitude of what that meant.


A living, breathing testament to Black people self-governing.

The image shows Palenquera women in colorful traditional attire standing before the statue of Benkos Bioho, symbolizing freedom and resilience. The vibrant women contrast with the proud monument, reflecting the community's enduring strength and cultural identity.

A Town That Wrote Its Own Freedom



Palenque was founded by formerly enslaved Africans who escaped captivity and built something revolutionary—a society rooted in liberation. And they did it before Haiti’s revolution against France.


There was no blueprint.


Just rhythm, resistance, and a radical will to be free.


The Legacy of Benkos Biohó



Benkos Biohó was an inspiring leader—a visionary who embodied resistance and courage in the face of relentless brutality.


Born in the late 16th century in what is now Guinea-Bissau, Benkos was captured by Portuguese colonizers and forcibly brought to Cartagena, Colombia. Determined to reclaim his freedom, he orchestrated a daring escape and led others to safety, establishing what we now know as San Basilio de Palenque in 1603.


Under his strategic guidance, Palenque became a haven of Black autonomy—resisting repeated Spanish military attacks, negotiating recognition, and ultimately securing its status as the first free town in the Americas.


Though Benkos was eventually captured and executed in 1621, his legacy endures. It ignited liberation movements across the Caribbean and Latin America.


To walk the streets of Palenque today is to honor Benkos Biohó’s radical vision of freedom—and to walk among his descendants who continue to uphold that spirit.

A Family Operation


Victor, our Palenquero guide, runs his tour business with his family. His sister joined us and stayed close for questions. His father prepared our delicious lunch: freshly caught snapper on banana leaves with beans and rice—a staple.


And his grandmother? She was the gem of the operation—offering traditional sweets, ancestral stories, and coconut cooking lessons.


Watching this family move so seamlessly together moved me.


It felt like I had stepped into an alternate universe—experiencing it from the inside out.

Victor’s abuela stands by the table with rows of golden coconut candies. Her steady hands hold the secret family recipe. The toasted coconut scent fills the air, sharing love and tradition in each batch. Every candy holds a family memory she passed on while teaching us.

Plant Medicine & Sacred Movement




When we arrived, we were greeted by the children of Batanza Dance School. Dressed in tribal dancewear, they performed African courtship dances full of joy, rhythm, and reverence. These weren’t just performances—they felt like offerings. Invitations into their history and spirituality.


One of the most memorable stops was with Palenque’s herbalist—a spiritual healer preserving the ancestral knowledge of plant medicine.


I asked him about a skin rash that had just surfaced, assuming the solution would involve a tincture or roots. To my surprise, he recommended the equivalent of Benadryl. I was not expecting over-the-counter meds. But honestly, It was a beautiful reminder that you can honor tradition and still adapt with intention. And for the record, I was having a full-blown allergic reaction that later required an ER visit. (But that’s for another blog post.)


He sent us off with a blessing and a shot of homemade bitters. He compared it to Mamajuana, a popular spirit born in the Dominican Republic. That’s when I asked him, “Is this like Gifiti?” Gifiti (pronounced ghee-fee-tee) is deeply rooted in Garifuna culture and considered a medicinal drink—though it’s also enjoyed recreationally. The bottle, filled with roots and herbs, looked almost identical to what I’d tried in Honduras a decade ago. He smiled and nodded. Another reminder of our interconnectedness across the diaspora.

A table of herbs and roots used by the local herbalist for medicinal purposes

A Handbag, A Heritage


I brought home a handwoven handbag crafted by the women of Palenque. It’s beautiful, unique, and forever tied to the feeling of being there.


It’s more than a souvenir—it’s a conversation starter, a visual bookmark, a coffee table book in motion.


That’s how legacy thrives: through art, memory, and intentional support.

How Do We Honor Palenque?






The name Benkos Biohó should be etched into the global conversation on freedom—right alongside Toussaint Louverture and other revolutionary leaders.


When we go to Colombia for the food, the affordability, the backdrops, or the vibe—we also need to honor the history.


Let Palenque remind us that culture lives in the body, and spirit stays in the soil.

What You Can Do:

  • Book local tours like Victor’s that center community and culture

  • Buy directly from Palenque artisans—especially women weavers and foodmakers

  • Share their story—because awareness without action is just aesthetic

Final Thoughts

Palenque is not just Black history, it’s a living lesson in radical liberation and cultural continuity.


As travelers, it is our responsibility to use our privilege to witness, uplift, and reinvest in the communities that sparked revolutions.


In today’s climate, it’s more important than ever to highlight clear acts of resistance—especially those that have reshaped the ethos of generations.


These stories create hope. They remind us of our power.


Have you visited Palenque or learned something new today? Drop a comment. Share this post. Keep the story alive.




Note: While Palenque historically experienced periods of self-governance, it was officially recognized as a “special municipality” in 2024 by the Colombian Senate—granting it full autonomous rule.

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