Crochet 'Weaves': A Personal Journey with Tapestry Crochet and Wayuu Bags

My very own Mochila in the making

There’s a quiet magic in tapestry crochet—a rhythm, a discipline, and a beauty that emerges one stitch at a time. My own journey into this intricate technique began not with a pattern, but with a picture of a present my mother made for my sister: a Wayuu mochila bag bursting with color and geometry, as vibrant as a woven sunset. I didn’t know much about it then, but something in the pattern called to me.

Wayuu bags, or mochilas, are made by the Indigenous Wayuu people of the Guajira Peninsula, stretching across northern Colombia and Venezuela. These bags are not just handmade—they are story-made. Each motif carries meaning, often inspired by the natural world, daily life, or ancestral teachings. And every bag is crafted by a single woman, often over weeks, from memory—not charts. That alone left me in awe.

As I began learning tapestry crochet, I realised just how technically refined the method is. Unlike regular crochet, where one colour is used at a time, tapestry crochet requires you to carry the unused yarn along as you work, enclosing it within your stitches. The result is a dense, sturdy fabric that allows for crisp, graphic designs. Tension is everything—too tight, and your pattern distorts; too loose, and the structure softens. Working in the round, as the Wayuu do, the pattern flows uninterrupted, like a continuous conversation between colour and form.

I made many mistakes. My tension wavered, my colour changes were clumsy, and sometimes the motifs didn’t line up. There was loads of frogging (when you undo everything you've done and start over); but with every failed attempt, I gained a deeper appreciation for the skill and patience behind a single Wayuu mochila. I started charting my own designs, testing new colorways, and slowly learning to trust the rhythm of the technique.

What I love most is that tapestry crochet—especially in the Wayuu style—sits at the intersection of functionality and story. These bags aren’t just beautiful; they’re meant to be used, carried, lived with. They remind me that handmade doesn’t have to be delicate to be meaningful. It can be sturdy, vibrant, and completely grounded in everyday life.

Today, every time I pick up my hook and multiple strands of yarn, I think of the Wayuu women and their gift of cultural continuity through craft. It reminds me of why handicraft came about to begin with and how deep that root system goes. It gives me the calm belief that in my own way, I’m not just learning a technique—I’m participating in a global narrative of makers, where each stitch holds memory, meaning, and deep, enduring connection.

xN.