02/01/2026
When I was about nine years old, we moved into a house my parents had just built, on the outskirts of the capital, when everything was still wilderness. Horses and cows passed along the newly opened road, and that was where my stories with the maco, the Taíno frog, began.
From time to time, the house would fill with my sisters’ cries for help: “MAAAACO!” Off I went to my task of catching them, an unspoken agreement among all the members of my family.
In those moments of close encounter, I learned that the saying “if a maco pees in your eyes, it makes you blind” was not true: sometimes when I tried to catch them with my small hands, the frightened macos would spray my eyes, forcing me to close them, as they escaped.
That role was perfect for me. I was fascinated roaming in nature, spending my time playing with the little green snakes that appeared in the garden, earthworms, and above all, the macos
I loved feeling their viscous skin, looking at their astonishing fingers and leaps, and listening to their croaking at night, especially when it called in the rain and, like a lullaby, carried me to sleep with deep happiness in my heart and a smile resting on my lips.
The maco is a power animal, a messenger of nature and of the wisdom of Mother Earth in Taíno culture. Its croak announces rain and shifts in the cycles of the land. It represents transformation, fertility, and renewal, which is why it appears in petroglyphs, ceramics, and creation stories. Even Atabeira, our Universal Mother, is depicted with maco legs, symbolizing the connection between the cycles of earth and life.
Like the cycles of the maco, Itiba Kaubaba, our Mother Earth, entered a portal of renewal and transformation at the winter solstice. From egg to tadpole to adult, she completes her cycle and will allow us to witness the fullness and maturation of 2026.
May this New Year be fertile, transformative, and alive with possibility, my people.
Akuu Irka
