In the lush, biodiverse corridor of Colombia’s Pacific coast, a liquid revolution has been simmering for centuries. For generations, Viche—an ancestral distillate made from sugarcane—was produced in the shadows. It was stigmatized as dangerous, persecuted by the state, and dismissed as mere contraband.
But in 2026, the narrative has shifted dramatically.
In Episode 31 of The Global Glug, I reunited with Onésimo González Biojó, a master vichero from Tumaco (Nariño) and the founder of Mano de Buey, the first brand to secure official sanitary registration (INVIMA). Our conversation revealed not just the story of a drink, but a masterclass in legal strategy, bio-chemical preservation, and ethical entrepreneurship.
This is the story of how a community turned a “forbidden fruit” into a protected cultural asset.
The Etymology of Resistance: What is Viche?
To understand Viche, one must first discard a common myth. Many believe the name derives from caña verde (green cane). Onésimo corrects this firmly: green cane lacks the sucrose concentration (Brix degrees) necessary for fermentation.
The term “Viche” actually comes from a colloquial Afro-Colombian expression meaning “unripe” or “not yet mature.” Just as one might say a plantain is biche before it’s ready to eat, the distillate was historically viewed as an unfinished product—a raw spirit made in a single pass of distillation, capturing the volatile, untamed essence of the territory.
Traditionally a matriarchal activity, Viche was brought to the Americas by enslaved African women who hid sugarcane seeds in their braids. For centuries, it served as the backbone of traditional medicine in the Pacific, used by midwives and healers to extract medicinal properties from local plants. However, with the rise of industrial monopolies in the early 20th century (notably Bavaria in the 1920s), Viche was systematically demonized. State institutions labeled it toxic, leading to decades of violent persecution where families were torn apart and production was forced deep into the jungle.
The Legal Hack: From Law 70 to Law 2158
The turning point for Viche wasn’t just cultural; it was legislative. Onésimo details the intricate political journey that transformed the industry.
Following the 1991 Constitution and Law 70 (which recognized ethnic community rights), the momentum grew. However, the real breakthrough came with the Petronio Álvarez Festival, which brought Pacific culture to the national stage. Recognizing the need for a unified legal framework, representatives John Arley Murillo and Luis Fernando Cure merged their efforts to draft Law 2158, known as the “Law of Viche.”
Passed during the Iván Duque administration and regulated under the subsequent government (with crucial support from Vice President Francia Márquez), this law did more than just legalize production. It defined:
- Geographical Indication: Only spirits produced in the departments of Valle del Cauca, Cauca, Nariño, and Chocó using traditional methods can be called Viche.
- Production Standards: Resolution 113 and Decree 1456 established strict guidelines for hygiene, distillation, and methanol control.
- Cultural Status: It recognized Viche as an intangible cultural heritage, protecting it from industrial standardization.
The path to legality was grueling. Producers had to navigate a labyrinth of bureaucracy: obtaining certifications as master vicheros, passing laboratory tests accredited by INVIMA (Colombia’s food and drug administration), securing a code from DANE (statistics agency), and finally negotiating with departmental revenue offices for the mandatory tax stamp (estampilla). Onésimo’s brand, Mano de Buey, was the pioneer in completing this entire odyssey.
The Science of Terroir: Why Viche Cannot Be Industrialized
One of the most fascinating aspects of our discussion was the impossibility of standardizing Viche. Unlike industrial rum or vodka, Viche is inextricably linked to its terroir.
Onésimo explained that in the Pacific South (Tumaco), sugarcane is not grown in monocultures. Instead, it thrives in a “lying agroforestry system,” surrounded by dense biodiversity. The cane is porous, absorbing the scents of local flora, the humidity of the rainforest, and crucially, the salt mist from the Pacific Ocean, which crashes against the cliffs 365 days a year.
“A bottle of Mano de Buey offers the entire biodiversity of its territory,” Onésimo noted.
The production process further distinguishes it:
- Extraction: Juice is extracted within 24 hours of cutting to prevent spoilage.
- Fermentation: It relies on wild yeasts and a “mother guide” (sediment from previous batches), a technique passed down orally for generations.
- Distillation: Unlike other regions that cook the juice to concentrate sugars due to flooding, Tumaco’s high-altitude, dry terrain allows for cold distillation. The vapor is condensed at ambient temperature, preserving delicate aromatic compounds that heat would destroy.
- Resting: The spirit is not sold immediately. Mano de Buey allows the Viche to rest for 3–4 months (or up to 11 months for macerated versions), allowing the chemistry to stabilize and the harsh edges to soften naturally.
This complexity means that Viche produced in an industrial plant in Cali would lack the salinity, the floral notes, and the soul of the Pacific version. It is a product that refuses to be copied.
Ethics as a Business Model
Perhaps the most radical element of Mano de Buey is its operational philosophy. In an era of “greenwashing,” Onésimo’s approach is genuinely circular and ethical.
- Environmental Stewardship: The distillery uses no fossil fuels. They utilize a mix of wood from sustainably managed forests and driftwood recovered from the ocean—trees fallen and carried by the tides. Ash from combustion is returned to the soil as a pH corrector, and bagasse (cane waste) is reused as organic fertilizer.
- Social Impact: The business model rejects the concept of a “fair price” in favor of a “real value.” Farmers are paid significantly above local market rates—sometimes triple—to ensure their livelihoods are dignified. Some producers are even allowed to distill on-site under supervision, retaining more value within the community.
- Scalability vs. Integrity: Onésimo is firm on one point: ethics limits growth. He refuses to promise international clients large volumes that the land cannot sustainably provide. “If a producer promises you 3,000 bottles a month, they are lying to you,” he stated. The production is capped by nature’s rhythm, ensuring that quality and tradition are never sacrificed for quantity.
The Future: The Viche Route and Global Export
With the legal framework secured, the focus has shifted to expansion. The goal is not to conquer mass markets in every corner store, but to position Viche as a premium, niche product in exclusive markets like Europe, Switzerland, and the US.
Simultaneously, the community is launching the “Viche Route” (Ruta del Viche). This tourism initiative invites visitors to Tumaco to experience the entire process firsthand: from the cane fields to the still, accompanied by traditional Pacific cuisine and whale watching (in season). It’s an effort to shift the narrative of the Pacific from one of conflict to one of cultural richness and natural beauty.
Conclusion: A Toast to Resistance
The story of Viche is a testament to the resilience of the Afro-Colombian communities. It proves that tradition and regulation are not enemies; when handled with wisdom, laws can protect culture rather than erase it.
As Onésimo González Biojó so eloquently put it: “Viche is ethics.” It is a spirit that demands patience, respects nature, and honors its ancestors. For the global consumer, drinking a glass of authentic Viche is not just a sensory experience; it is an act of solidarity with a history of resistance and a future of hope.
Listen to the full conversation with Onésimo González Biojó in this episode of The Global Glug, available now on all major podcast platforms.
