More Than Just Laundry

accountability [uh-koun-tuh-bil-i-tee] noun – the obligation of an individual or organization to account for its activities, accept responsibility for them, and to disclose the results in a transparent manner. It also includes the responsibility for money or other entrusted property. [definition provided by: businessdictionary.com(italics added for emphasis)]

On my most recent trip to Tena I found myself confronted with the epitome of Ecuadorian business etiquette, or lack thereof, which confirmed my suspicion that accountability in this country (or on this continent) is lacking in a variety of areas. My own experience was not one to lose sleep over – it consisted in a trip to the lavandería where I left the majority of the clothing I brought to Ecuador in the hands of a family run laundry business. It felt so good to know that I would return to the jungle with mold-free, clean smelling clothes, even if they would only return to their damp, musty condition within days of going home. Upon returning to my hostel where I ripped open my bag of clean clothes like a little girl on Christmas…it really is the little things that make me happy out here… I began to see white spots… no, white BLOBS, on every… single… item… that I pulled out of the bag. Megan was there as a witness and support. Every time I took out another ruined article of clothing I looked to her, “Megan, oh no, Megan! No not my only pair of jeans! Megan, look at this dress MEGAN!”

It might sound a little superficial, but owning only a small supply of clothing that I wear every day, and that I have to wear every day, bleach stains seemed like perhaps a bigger debacle than I might have considered them under different circumstances.

Regardless, I was taking them back to the lavandería. When I got there I found the husband and wife who had been prepared for my arrival when Berta, the owner of my hostel, called them from her contacts in her cell phone. After laying my bleached clothing out on the counter as evidence, the couple began to explain that they were very sorry; they had been at a political event the day before and had left their son to tend to clients.

There was a lot of “It was just that… You see what happened was…” In Spanish we call it the “Es que…fue que” syndrome. In other words, there was no transparency as to what exactly had happened, but a cloudy vagueness of echando la culpa “projecting the blame.” Interrupting them as politely as I could, I pointed out that it didn’t actually matter all that much how it had happened, but that in fact it did. Then I asked them for their suggestion as to what they might do to compensate. Silence.

I mentioned to them that they needed to provide some sort of compensation for the ruined clothing. I suggested that they refund the 4 dollars it cost me to have the laundry washed, plus some extra to go buy a new shirt. Their reaction to this was one of outrage. How could I expect them to refund my money? They didn’t have the money! Furthermore, my clothing was OLD! They pointed to some holes in my dress.

Yes, I told them. All of my clothes are old. I don’t own new clothing. But they are my clothes!

As I stood in their shop, explaining to them that part of owning a business is to take responsibility for a mistake in a service, or for service poorly done, the couple avoided eye contact with me and stood with their arms crossed and their heads turned facing the wall. They would not do anything to make up for the ruined clothing.

Before I left the shop, I told them that I would be back and that the least they could do would be to refund my four dollars.

Returning back to my hostel, frustrated and bewildered, I found Berta and told her that the couple had not paid any attention to my complaint. She had had it. We were going to La oficina de consumo the very next day para reclamar. Reclamar seems the perfect word for the situation. It’s better than “complain;” more fitting than “denounce.” So I began to use “reclamar” as if it were plain English whenever I talked about the debacle. This introduction of Spanish words into the English language is called “Spanglish,” and the more time spent here, the more we find ourselves becoming proficient in it.

Back in my room, we prepared ourselves for a grand Ecuadorian court case. We were NOT going to allow this kind of injustice. I owed it not only to myself but to the greater population of Ecuador. Together we were going to change the string of unaccountability so apparent in this country. We searched the web for the best riot vocabulary we could find. Here were some of the phrases we came up with:

¡Esto es una atrocidad!

¡Qué barbaridad!

¡Es una injusticia!

All of these outbursts must be augmented by shaking one’s fists in the air.

In the end, we didn’t picket outside the shop. Instead I calmly returned to receive three articles of black clothing that I had allowed the couple to die for me, and they had apparently thought over the possibility that I might hold them accountable for ruining my clothes and offered to refund my 4 dollars. But not today. They didn’t have the money. After 3 more visits they must have been convinced that I was not going to give up, and reluctantly returned my money.

While my clothing is replaceable, and I don’t exactly worry much about looking spotless while trudging around in the rainforest, this event quite clearly exemplifies what I have observed as a general hesitance to accept responsibility. No one wants to be accountable for a failure, or for a mistake. Who’s to say that Ecuador is wrong for being this way? Is it “just cultural?” But even so, what is the reason behind a cultural tendency to not want to accept responsibility or blame? Could it be decades of dictatorship and political instability that put everyone on edge for a long time? A strong hand, control and hierarchy form the basis for how things are run down here. All the way down to Yachana this is how it works. I can’t change it and I’m certainly not in a position to say that it should or shouldn’t. So as much in terms of my bleached clothing as for the political and cultural nature of the whole country of Ecuador, I choose to let go of that which I cannot change.

Just Enjoy the Ride

Why is it that travellers tend not to be bothered by what would seem to be the most inconvenient of circumstances? In fact, we revel in it! Is it because we have zero expectations? Or, on the contrary, do we expect that things are not going to go as smoothly as we would hope and so are not disappointed or surprised when, as expected, they don't?

After 4 days of wanting to jump out of my skin due to the sickness that, at one time or another, strikes any foreigner to Latin America, I enjoyed the rest of my descanso in Quito. Yes, I went back to Quito. I didn't think it would be so soon but I am pleased to find myself with a far better taste in my mouth about the city and what it has to offer. Staying in the historic district, my hostel was one block from where I was mugged so I got to trompe everyday past the monument where it happened, stare it in the face and say, “Ha! I came back! See? I'm not afraid!” Then I went on my way and discovered the charm of the city's historic center with its old-fashioned cafes, restaurants, churches, etc.

Yesterday was the long trip back to the jungle and let me tell you, I am just happy I made it here in one piece. Instead of taking the long bus rides from Quito to Tena, then Tena to Los Rios, Ryan and I opted to drive back with Jose (the administrator of the new Yachana Institute) who is from the Spanish Canary Islands and therefore a challenge to understand as any “s” in his speech is pronounced as a breath of air.

It was convenient that he was returning to Yachana on the same day because driving in private car takes only about 6 hours rather than the 8 or 9 in bus. Or it should anyway. As tends to happen, the trip started out smoothly, Ryan and I met Jose at the airport at 8:35 when his plane landed. “Hola! Como ehtan uhtedeh?” Right on time. We were in the car headed to Tena by 9:00a.m. Earlier than expected. But Ryan and I weren't fooled. We had established ahead of time that we were without expectations of arriving on time, if we even were to make it that day. We simply sat back, enjoyed the extra leg room, and let things unfold Latin America style.

Our driver was Roberto, whose glasses magnified his eyes to look twice their size, and who used his stick shift as a break when going down hill, down shifting to third gear and making the van work hard to keep up speed with his heavy foot.

We made it to Tena around 1:00p.m. We were to pick up a weeks worth of food that had already been ordered and set aside for us to pick up at the open air market. When we got there, the amount of food we were to take was unbelievable. Boxes of lettuce and cauliflower and pineapples, sacks of potatoes and apples and onions. Once there, we realized we were going to have to back in the van to load up.

But of then, the first road block – Jose hadn't yet gone to the bank to get out the money to pay the market vendor. (Ok, who goes to the market with the intention of buying A WEEK'S WORTH OF FOOD FOR 25 PEOPLE and brings no cash?) So Jose and our driver went to the bank. First of all, yesterday was a holiday. No one had to work so where is everyone? At the bank. And not only are all the people from Tena at the bank, but all the people from surrounding communities and small towns where there are no banks are there too. Second of all, the ATM in all of Ecuador only allows a withdrawal of 100 dollars daily. I understand, how was Jose supposed to know that being a foreigner?

We finally met them back at the market at around 2:00p.m., paid the vendor for the vegetables and loaded up the car. All four of us stood at the back of the van, looking in the open doors at the expanse of produce that we had just piled in. Jose said, “Me parehe mucha comida pa veinte perhonah.” This seems like a lot of food for 20 people. Indeed it did. And the rotting process had already begun as it had to be close to 95 degrees in Tena at 2:00p.m.

It was lunch time and we were all hungry. As we had already spent a good hour in Tena, and we still had quite a trip to Los Rios and a full car of produce to unload out of the van, into a canoe, and again out of the canoe to the lodge once we arrived, the most logical thing to do would have been to pick up a quick sandwich, a choclo con queso from a street vendor, or one of the quick in-and-out lunch restaurants on every corner whose whole purpose of existence is to get people back to work on time (or back to work at all). But Ecuador gave up on logic a long time ago so Jose and Roberto's decision to eat at a sit down restaurant that was more crowded than a Sunday Mother's Day buffet at Bob Evans, was no big surprise. An hour and a half (and three beers) later, we were ready to go! Almost.

We needed printers ink. Why, I ask, did we wait until arriving in the jungle to buy ink rather than anticipating that the jungle would be an unreliable source of anything related to computers and purchasing an ink cartridge in the great metropolis of Guayaquil when Jose was there for a week? Foresight also not being a strong point in Latin America, Jose and Roberto jumped around to a block's worth of computer shops where they found that the only ink being sold was colored, and they wanted black. So they made their way. Empty handed, back to the van where Ryan and I had waited. Forty minutes (and one ice cream) later, we were off to Los Rios. After one last stop.

We needed toilet paper. So rather than stopping at any little corner store, any of which is empty at any given time because the identical store next door is sure to sell the same thing, we stopped at the super market which, yesterday being a holiday, was packed beyond capacity. 20 minutes (and 30 rolls of toilet paper) later, we were on our way. Really.

But now it was 4:30, and we had at least a two hour car ride to Los Rios, and everyone knows the sun goes down at 6. By 6:30 we would be working with darkness. So Robert began to drive... and drive he did. He took advantage of the hour of tarmac that ends abruptly at the dirt road that takes you through small communities until you reach the Napo River, passing slower trucks and cars and whizzing by small children who walk barefoot along the highway. We were literally racing the sunset.

The rocky road continued and continued and seemed never to end as the sky changed from blue to golden to pink to musky purple as the sun went down below the trees. I enjoyed the jungle view and the breeze on my face through the open window, intentionally having decided not to worry about the increasingly real possibility that we would not make it to Yachana that night. 3 hours, one missed turn (and one starry night sky) later, we arrived in Los Rios.

Looking around the sleepy community where locals sat around the community television watching an American movie in English with Spanish subtitles, we saw no conoe. Jose was frantic. “Vamoh a tener que dormir en el carro que te parehe?” We're going to have to sleep in the car what do you think?

As Jose wandered around under the stars searching for cell service, we heard the sound of a motor on the river. We all rushed to the bank and looked out, waiting to see if it was the Yachana canoe there to pick us up (and our 400 pounds of produce). We were in luck! I almost wanted to kiss our canoe driver and thank him for venturing out onto the treacherous Napo River in the darkness of the night.

No one wanted to load and unload the produce, so we abandoned the van, took our bags, and piled into the canoe. On the river the moon produced a comforting glow and in the distance shown rays of lightning while above us the sky was clear and starry. We flew down river faster than we flew down the road in the rickety old van; air in my face rather than dust kicked up by the buses that drove in front of us. It felt good to be back on the river!

Maybe travelers have fewer expectations. While Jose and Robert grew increasingly more frustrated with each other and with the situation at hand, Ryan and I smiled. It wasn't so bad! It was comical and to be honest completely foreseeable! We had made it in one piece and even gotten to take a canoe ride under the stars. Life is pretty good.

Long Live la Larga Vida

I have found the miracle cure for EVERYTHING.

The jungle beholds many secrets, and one of them is the much talked about and praised Sangre de Drago (Dragon's blood). It comes from the "Sangre de Drago" tree and, if you cut the tree, it actually "bleeds" a thick, deep red substance that cures anything from stomach problems to cuts and scars to splinters. Yes... splinters.

I had contracted a splinter in my foot that wouldn't come out for over a week. It got to the point that I had to do something. My options were few, but Megan had brought a bottle of Sangre de Drago that she had bought at the market. I figured it couldn't hurt since it's an anti-septic. Even if it wouldn't take the pain away or make the splinter come out, at least it might prevent against infection. So I put a few drops of the "blood" in the palm of my hand and swirled it around like one of the high schoolers had taught me, until it turned into a foamy white cream. I put it on my foot and forgot about it. That night before I went to bed I gave the splinter another attempt. I gave it a couple of pokes and, I kid you not, the splinter literally popped out. Have you ever seen a splinter "pop" out? I hadn't.

Sangre de Drago is filled with antioxidants good for boosting immunity and quickly healing wounds. It helps to diminish the appearance of scars and clear up acne. It can be mixed with water or juice to help with stomach ailments including ulcers, gastritis and diarrhea. And the list of its beneficial qualities doesn't stop there. Does this not sound like the God sent answer to complete and assured physical health?? I'm convinced, and I would like to find a way to secure a constant supply of it directly to my front door once I leave the jungle.

Since I have been living in the Amazon I have frequently been told stories of individuals who have lived well into their hundreds. One of our student's grandparents lived to be 115 years old. I think that proves that there is something to be said for the benefits of living a life based on natural cycles. For the most part, the food we eat comes from the ground. The little meat we eat is not mass produced but comes from small farmers who raise their cattle, chickens and pigs right at home. Many people who have grown up here have never seen or heard of over the counter drugs like ibuprofen or neosporin. There is a natural cure for any physical ailment and they don't have to pay for them or worry about the unrecognizable ingredients and chemicals that come along with the pharmaceuticals that we mindlessly pop into our mouths like candy.

I'm not saying that I will stop taking ibuprofen when I come home; I don't have a Sangre de Drago tree in my back yard, and I haven't been raised with the knowledge of natural plant medicine. But the people here do seem to have a certain intuition as to what will make a person feel better, no matter what their complaint.

Beyond the food and drugs we put into our mouths, a day's activities take place within the natural cycle of light and dark hours. Here in Mondaña we do have electricity for a few hours at night, which allows us to extend our day beyond sunset. But there are still those who go to bed at 6:30 or 7:00 at night when the sun has gone down and there is no reason to stay awake. Their days begin as early as 3:00 in the morning, with a cup of Guayusa tea for an energy boost (Guayusa contains more caffeine than black tea and almost as much as coffee) and then as soon as the dawn breaks it is out to the fields to work. In fact, it makes most sense to do the hardest work early in the morning when the air is fresh and cool. By 10:00 a.m., the sun is intense and the body exhausted.

That said, there is certainly no need to head to the gym, or go for a morning run. Cultivating the food to feed a family is hard work! There is no lack of physical activity for those who lead a traditional jungle life. Carrying bundles of plantains, pulling yuca roots from the ground, climbing trees to knock down fruit that grows on high branches. This is the work of children and elders alike. Not to mention the long journeys to the weekly open air markets where many farmers buy and sell their produce. These trips might include a 2 hour walk with a bag of heavy papayas sitting on your shoulders.

It's no wonder some of the world's oldest people can be found in the Amazon. The lifestyle is in harmony with the cycles of the universe and with one's neighbor. It is natural and intuitive. Quite a difference from the adaptations we've made in our Western lifestyle in which we now have to complicate our lives due to the creation of what we think of as "innovation" and "higher quality of life." Is it really higher quality? It's certainly a lot shorter. Why work against an already perfect system? Or in other words, why fix it if it's not broken?

Reconnected!

I´ve found myself talking often about the range of emotions that can be felt at one given time when we are taken out of our known and understood environment. One minute we feel at the same time elated in the present moment, seeing so many new things that its exciting but at the same time confusing and foreign. We struggle with feeling helpless while at the same time putting forth all our effort to make a difference. We wonder if anyone feels the impact of our work. The crazy emotional roller coaster is in and of itself a wonderful opportunity! We have to be taken out of our comfort zone sometimes to really understand and feel those high ups and low lows.

This first week off has been a wonderful break. A time to relax, explore and get to know Ecuador which is a country which I know very little about! I´m always learning something new, and I´m happy to have such positive, fun and intelligent people to share this time with.

Now that I´m in the connected world for a few days, I have had the chance to upload my photos and am excited to share them here!

Home sweet home! This is my dorm room in the high school. I sleep with a mosquito net, not because of malarial mosquitoes, but just for the bugs in general. The net is my saving grace and allows me to be able to read at night without attracting bugs. Notice the open screenless windows along the wall and the openings at the ceiling.

Jungle culture is hammock culture! I spend a lot of time here lesson planning, reading, lo que sea!

This is the outside of the comedor where we eat every day. Wake up is at 5:45 and breakfast is at 6:00. Before I came to Ecuador I was a vegetarian and have been quite abruptly thrown into an omnivorous diet. A very common dish here is called Guatita - cooked stomach. That was one meal I promptly handed over to one of the boys. Something I just couldn´t stomach...

Here are some of the girls dancing after classes. Traditional dancing is an important part of the culture here. Kids learn to dance to different styles of music from the time they are very young. They finally convinced us that there is no need to uphold a student - teacher boundary that prohibits us from dancing with our students. So we are learning all kinds of dance from Bachata to Merengue to Salsa!

We grow lots of fruits and vegetables at the High School. The kids spend half of their day working the fields and the other half taking classes.

I mentioned in an earlier post that we have a pet otter. Here she is! Her name is Yaku and is clearly very friendly.

From the lodge, on clear days we can see the volcano Somaco in the distance across the Napo River. Our only access to the community of Mondaña is by boat.

Yesterday we had the opportunity to go with our friend, Mauricio, a graduate from Yachana High School who is doing some teaching and organizing with the kids, to his family´s home near Misauallí. It is about an hour and a half from Tena and a slippy slidey walk down to a river, across, and then back up. Mauricio grew up and lived in this house for about 6 years. They have a beautiful farm where they grow all kinds of bananas, papaya and lots of different kinds of fruits and vegetables.

In the center of the house is an open fire. We roasted bananas and ate them hot! Yum!

When there are guests, it´s customary to prepare for them a large meal. We cooked for the majority of the afternoon and shared a delicious rice and palmita dish along with a deer meat soup. After we were stuffed and hurrying to get out the door to catch our bus back to Tena, Mauricio´s grandfather was concerned that we had not had enough to eat and pleaded our apologies for not having prepared enough food for us. We thanked him and assured him that we enjoyed the meal and his generosity and went on our way. I´m sure that this was one of the most beautiful days I have experienced on my trip thus far.