Ridin` Dirty

We made it. Miraculously, we made it.

Travel in Zamora-Chinchipe is always an adventure. In spite of the omnipresent “Revolución Cuidadania”--a public works program headed by President Rafael Correa that seeks to improve infrastructure throughout the country—travel in rural Ecuador remains perilous especially during the rainy season. The vast majority of roads are dirt. This is not problematic in dryer zones, but in the Amazonian provinces, for example, the roads often turn into impassable mud pits riddled with pot holes. Given that the entire province on Zamora-Chinchipe only has one paved road connecting different towns and communities (within individual cities/towns small roads are often paved), travel can be quite difficult. Some parts of the province, namely the southern counties of Chinchipe and Palanda, have no paved roads connecting towns whatsoever.

Moreover, muddy roads are not the only problem plaguing the transportation system. Given that Zamora-Chinchipe lies in the foothills of the Andes, most roads wind around mountain ridges. Landslides, therefore, are a constant threat. Roads are frequently closed, travelers stranded, and communities isolated until road crews can clear the way.  Unfortunately, landslides are not entirely avoidable; they are a natural part of the mountainous ecosystem in which I live. Yet, the problem is exacerbated by road construction, agriculture, and deforestation. Natural landslides are generally only a couple of meters wide; the landslides common throughout the province often span a dozen meters.

Why so much frusteration with the road system? A friend had invited a group of our friends to pick fruit at his farm in the countryside. Finally, after several failed attempts to visit, we ventured to his town, Numpam,he  early Saturday morning. It initially seemed like an easy trip; we needed to take the 8.45 bus to the town of Guadalupe and walk about thirty minutes to the Shuar community. Yet, our plans were immediately smashed when we discovered that the needed bus rout had been unexplicably removed the day before. Typical.

Given that the student does not have cellular phone service in his home, we could not call and cancel. We had to find another way to trek into the countryside. We eventually decided to take a bus destined for Yantzaza. We did not go all the way to Yantzaza, however. Rather we disembarked in La Saquea and began asking for a ride to Guadalupe. Luckily, a provincial fireman in the pickup truck was heading in that direction and he allowed the five of us to pile into the back of the truck. For a moment, it seemed as if we would make it after all.

Unfortunately, our plans were dashed about fifteen minutes later. A mountainside had collapsed the night before. The road was blocked. No había paso.

Once again, we were in luck. The young fireman needed to find a way to Guadalupe and he thus suggested returning to La Saquea and returning via the “bad” road on the other side of the river. Ironically, the “good” road as impassable, thus resulting in a trip along the muddy narrow track on the other side of the river. We eagerly agreed and, mud-flying, we were soon whizzing along the narrow curves until arriving in Guadalupe.

Although the fireman stayed in the town, our trip was not over. We continued on foot for another thirty minutes until reaching the Shuar community of Numpam. Although motorcycles can traverse the muddy road , the majority of residents trek on foot. It's a stunning walk and, for the majority, this is an easy, albeit time-consuming, trip. Some, however, such as the father of my friend, can no longer make such a long journey on foot due to medical problems stemming from both old-age and a lifetime of arduous agricultural work. He  is, therefore, confined to his home. It is simply too difficult to leave.

           

We would, on the other hand, be leaving in a few short hours and our hosts wasted no time in welcoming us to their community. As soon as we finished greeting what seemed to be every member of the extended family or the entire town, we were handed glasses brimming with chicha de yucca. Chicha de Yucca—fermented yucca juice—is vile and far too alcoholic to consume at 11:30 am. Moreover, traditional recipes require that the cooks or our hosts chew the yucca before allowing it to ferment. Not an appealing midmorning snack. Regardless, refusing was not an option; to refuse an offer of chicha de yucca is extremely rude and inconsiderate.

After struggling to down glass after glass of yucca de chicha, we began exploring the farm. As we roamed through the fruit trees growing amid the rainforest, we gourged ourselves on jungle treats  such as chonta, guava,  guayaba, and maracaña. We grabbed long-hanging fruits from the lowest branches as children scaled trees and tossed us fruits from above. Their agility was impressive; without fear nor caution they shimmied along  branches several meters above the ground.

Within an hour, I was not only impressed by the amount of food we had eaten and stored in giant grain sacks, but by our hosts' insights into the uses of different plants. Regardless of the plant, they seemed to know how to prepare it for human consumption. If a plant proved toxic berries, for instance, they always could provide another use. The toxic greenish-blue berries down yonder? Feed them to the fish so they die and float to the surface; then, they can easily be caught and cooked by humans (the berries consequently do not poison humans). As one woman aptly pointed out, the forest can provide plenty of food to feed impovershed communities (87% of Shuar live beneath the poverty line). Yet, they still need money—school materials, clothes, etc. don't grow on trees...even in the rainforest.

Making money, unfortunately, is not particularly easy to agricultural communities buried in the rainforest. Produce sells for shockingly low prices in the market—six pounds of potatoes only garners $1.00 in the Sunday market. Yet, there is home. Many members of the community hae recently built an organic fish farm with the help of experts at a nearby agro-pecuarian program. Moreover, others are finding jobs in nearby mining projects run by foreign conglomerates from countries ranging from China to Canada. While these projects are extraordinarily controversial given their environmental impacts, and their effects on local communities such as increased alcoholism (as demonstrated by a study conducted by Save the Children), they have already begun bringing work, albeit often low-paying and dangerous work, to remote corners of the jungle.

Will the economic situation improve in the next few years? Given that the reserves of uranium, gold, and silver are expected to value several billion dollars, one hopes that the proceeds will trickle down to area residents. After all, they will be the ones enduring the environmental damages imperiling the very jungle on which they now rely for much of their food and their livlihoods. Will the mining be for the best? For the worst? Only time will tell, but for now, the debate rages on in Ecuador and beyond.