On Mondays, become rich—the promise repeated every week
Cada lunes por la noche, Colombia renueva un pacto antiguo con la esperanza: el sorteo de la Lotería de Cundinamarca, institución que data de 1812 y lleva la firma histórica de Antonio Nariño, convoca a millones de personas en torno a un billete de diez mil pesos y la posibilidad de transformar su suerte. El 18 de octubre de 2022 no fue la excepción, aunque el verdadero premio —como ocurre con tantas promesas colectivas— llegó matizado por las obligaciones del Estado, los formularios del fisco y la aritmética silenciosa de los impuestos.
- Una institución de más de dos siglos sigue generando tensión semanal entre la ilusión del premio mayor y la realidad de lo que el Estado retiene antes de que el ganador toque un solo peso.
- El precio del billete bajó recientemente a diez mil pesos, ampliando el acceso al juego, pero la estructura de premios por dígitos, series e inversiones sigue siendo lo suficientemente compleja como para confundir al jugador casual.
- La DIAN aplica un doble recorte inmediato: 20% por ganancias ocasionales y el gravamen financiero del 4 x 1.000 sobre el valor bruto, convirtiendo cada celebración en una negociación con el fisco.
- Para cobrar, el ganador debe presentar RUT y cédula de ciudadanía; sin documentación en regla, el premio simplemente no se entrega, añadiendo una capa burocrática al momento de mayor emoción.
- El sorteo del lunes 18 de octubre quedó resuelto a las 10:30 p.m., hora Bogotá, dejando en manos de unos pocos afortunados —y de la DIAN— el reparto de un pozo millonario que se reiniciará puntualmente el próximo lunes.
Cada lunes por la noche, Colombia repite un ritual que tiene más de doscientos años. La Lotería de Cundinamarca celebró su primer sorteo el 16 de febrero de 1812, bajo el nombre de Lotería Popular de Cundinamarca, con registro en la gaceta oficial de la época firmada por Antonio Nariño. Hoy es una empresa descentralizada del departamento, con personería jurídica propia y autonomía financiera, pero la esencia del juego no ha cambiado: un billete, unos números y la esperanza del lunes.
El 18 de octubre de 2022, ese billete costaba diez mil pesos colombianos —precio que había bajado recientemente para hacer el juego más accesible—. Las categorías de premio son variadas: coincidencia del último dígito, de los dos últimos, de los tres últimos, del número mayor invertido, de combinaciones por serie y de aproximaciones para quienes se quedan a un número del ganador. Cada modalidad tiene su propio valor, con y sin serie.
Pero ganar no es tan sencillo como parece. La DIAN interviene de inmediato: aplica un 20% de impuesto sobre ganancias ocasionales y, adicionalmente, el gravamen del 4 x 1.000 sobre el valor bruto del premio. El monto que finalmente llega al bolsillo del ganador es considerablemente menor que la cifra anunciada. Para cobrarlo, además, es obligatorio presentar el RUT y la cédula de ciudadanía; sin esos documentos, no hay pago posible.
A las 10:30 de la noche, hora de Bogotá, el sorteo resolvió la pregunta semanal. El eslogan de la lotería lo resume todo: "los lunes, hágase rico". Una promesa que se repite cada semana, sostenida por siglos de historia y por la fe persistente de quienes creen que esta vez los números les pertenecen.
On Monday evenings in Colombia, millions of people gather around lottery tickets with the same quiet hope. The Cundinamarca lottery drawing happens every week, and on October 18th, 2022, it was no different—except for those holding the right numbers.
The lottery itself carries weight in Colombian history. It traces back to February 16, 1812, when the first drawing took place under the name Lotería Popular de Cundinamarca. The event was documented in the official gazette of that era, written by Antonio Nariño himself, the founding figure who would shape the nation's early years. Two centuries later, the institution remains: a decentralized enterprise belonging to the Cundinamarca department, with its own legal standing and financial independence, answerable to the regional treasury.
For those playing on this particular Tuesday, the ticket cost 10,000 Colombian pesos—a price that had recently dropped, making the game more accessible. The structure of prizes is intricate. Winners can match the last digit, the last two digits, the last three digits, or the first digits in various combinations. There are prizes for "mayor invertido"—the inverted major number—and payouts for matching digits across different series. The lottery also recognizes approximations: tickets that miss the winning number by one. Each category carries its own payout, with and without series variations. For the precise rules and current prize amounts, players are directed to their local lottery agent or the official website.
But winning brings complications. A Colombian who holds the winning ticket will not receive the full prize amount. The national tax authority, DIAN, takes its cut immediately. According to Colombian tax law, lottery winners must pay a 20 percent tax on occasional gains—money earned outside regular employment. On top of that sits another levy: the 4 x 1,000 financial tax, calculated on the gross prize value. The mathematics of winning, then, are less generous than the headline numbers suggest.
To claim a prize, a winner must present two documents: a RUT certificate, the unique tax registration number issued by DIAN, and a copy of their citizenship card. These requirements exist to verify identity and ensure the tax authority can track the transaction. Without them, no payment is processed.
The drawing itself happens on Monday evenings at 10:30 p.m., Bogotá time. The lottery's slogan captures the weekly ritual: "los lunes, hágase rico"—on Mondays, become rich. It is a promise repeated every week, backed by millions of pesos in prize pools. On this particular October evening, that promise belonged to whoever held the right combination of numbers.
Notable Quotes
Winners must pay 20 percent tax on occasional gains plus an additional 4 x 1,000 financial tax on the gross prize value— Colombian tax law (Estatuto Tributario)
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a lottery from 1812 still matter to people today?
Because it's woven into how Colombians think about chance and possibility. Two hundred years of continuity creates trust—or at least the appearance of it. People know the name, they know when it draws, they know someone they know has played it.
The tax situation seems punishing. Twenty percent plus another tax on top?
It is. But the government sees it as revenue, and players see it as the cost of winning. Most people buying a 10,000-peso ticket aren't thinking about tax brackets. They're thinking about what 10,000 pesos could become.
Why require a RUT and citizenship card to claim the prize?
Verification and control. The state needs to know who won, track the money, ensure taxes are paid. It's bureaucracy, but it's also how they prevent fraud and money laundering through lottery winnings.
Does the price drop to 10,000 pesos change who plays?
Probably. Lower entry cost means more people can afford a ticket. It democratizes the game, at least in theory. More players means more tickets sold, which means more revenue for the state even if individual prizes stay the same.
What's the appeal of matching just one digit versus the full number?
It's a ladder of hope. You don't have to get everything right to win something. That structure keeps people engaged—you can lose the big prize but still walk away with money. It's designed to feel generous even when it isn't.