Life and Death in the Amazon

Living in an indigenous community in the Ecuadorian Amazon has provided me with a pathway into a world unlike any I have ever known. If during my placement here I had lived outside the community and only came in to work, I would never have had the experiences I have had up to now. These experiences can be both good and bad, but I’ve had to take them as they come.

As I was walking to work this week, I spotted a woman I knew near the doorway of her house. Recognizing her, I decided to wave, but the response I got back to her through her facial expression was an unexpected look of pure grief and sorrow. The loud wailing coming from the house confirmed her look, something terribly painful was going on.

Feeling too awkward to stop, I decided to continue on. A few moments later I ran into a friend and asked what was happening. He told me an old woman, perhaps in her nineties or almost 100 years old, was in the last hours of her life. Too weak to walk in the past months, I had never had the chance to meet her. He asked if I would like to go in but I declined, feeling this would be the worst of times to do so despite the offer.

The next morning I arrived at the school to teach, only to find out that the classes had been cancelled for the day. The woman had passed away at 11:00 p.m. the previous night. The family had decided that the best place to have the funeral was in the lunch room used by the school. The teachers were asked if the room could be used, they accepted, and as a result school was cancelled.

During the day preparations for the funeral slowly fell into place. A truck delivering the casket arrived and family members trickled in from near and far. By sundown, all was in place.

I arrived that night at the funeral service, not sure quite what to expect. Knowing my community’s history of evangelization by protestant missionaries, I at least expected something quiet and respectful, with some sort of local tradition still in place. What I got instead was something entirely different.

Inside the room where I had expected to find peace and quiet, there was instead a good sized party going on. At least one side of the room was filled with people smoking cigarettes and playing cards, laughing, telling jokes and generally having a good time. On the other side were the family members, more reserved, obviously mourning, and mostly quiet expect, for those wailing out load. The contrast could not have been starker.

Despite the contrast what definitely stood out in the room was the beautifully adorned casket, supported on four gold pedestals. Made of a dark deep wood, it had a gold rim running around the outside that shone bright in the light that fell upon it. At the base were several pictures of Jesus encapsulated in what seemed like glass or plastic. Around it six lights stood like pillars shinning light into the room. Directly behind it was a bright gold cross with a silver body of Jesus. For a captivating visual effect, it could not have been done better.

Looking at the strikingly beautiful scene, it did dawn on me that it was a casket, and this was a funeral. Still the way it stuck out in the room was striking. I thought taking a picture but morbidity aside, I decided that it wasn’t the right time or place.

As I settled down to a game of chess with some of my friends, two of the community leaders began the funeral service. I thought at this point that things would quiet down but despite a light drop in the volume the party kept on going. It continued through the prayers, scripture reading, and the mourning. In one sense the scene seemed acceptable to all, but I also felt some shock at what I perceived as a “lack of respect.”

After the service the party really started to pick up. This began with what I call the “fire trick.” Basically someone lights a piece of rolled up paper on fire and,when no one suspects it, runs through the room brushing it along unsuspecting bystanders feet. People jump and scream in surprise and everyone laughs and has a good time. I personally covered my beard for fear of that catching on fire.

The “fire trick” can also be combined with an animal element in the form of one of the many local dogs. This trick involves the same flaming paper, but this time tied with a string to the tail of the dog. You then chase the dog into the room and hilarity ensues. This joke was played at all times, even during the scripture reading!

Later I discussed my impressions of the funeral with one of the community leaders. I explained how in Canada a funeral(or those I have been to), is a much more reserved, solemn, and dedicated to reflection on the person’s life. There may be a party, but it would certainly be afterwards. He in turn told me there was no problem doing things this way in the community. If anything the party was a sign to the family that it was still possible to have fun in a time of mourning. Later into the night they partied, but I left exhausted at midnight.

The next morning there was still a group of people gathered in the lunch room. Once again I approached with my camera, but felt like I was intruding on their grief. At the woman’s house a grave was being dug, as it is customarily done, underneath the house. At 3:00 p.m. that afternoon the casket was moved from the lunch room and buried under the house.

The last thing I saw was three candles blowing in the wind on top of the grave as the sun slowly set on the life of a woman that I’d never known.

Senators Clash with Police in Congress- How a National Political Drama Plays Out in a Small Amazonian Village

Early one morning in my sleepy Amazonian village, I had just finished breakfast and was heading back to my house. At the local corner store, where the television is always on, I saw a group of people gathered. Curious to find out more, I decided to sit down with them.

On the screen flashed the images of a mob of people, crowed together on a set of stairs. At the bottom was a group of police officers, blocking their passage. As I watched it became clear what was happening, the mob was some of Ecuador’s elected Senators, being barred from entering the national congress.

Not quite understanding what was going on, I asked those around me what was happening. I was given the following version of the events of the last month:

The events leading up to this confrontation began last week, but were all part of the general political mayhem that is currently Ecuador. On Februray 13th, after much haggling and deal making, Ecuador´s Senate approved a referendum which would ask Ecuadorians whether they wanted to elect a constituent assembly. This elected group would decide what reforms were necessary to end political instability in Ecuador, and hopefully free Ecuador from its entrenched political powers.

After approving the referendum, the senators had 15 days to retract their decision or change their minds. This period passed, and it was assumed that the referendum would go forward. Life, especially political life, is never so simple in Ecuador. After the revision period, 57 Senators voted in favour of a motion against the referendum. Ecuador´s Supreme Elector Tribunal(SET), interpreted the motion as contradictory to the law, and dismissed the Senators from Congress. Ecuador’s president, Rafael Correa, agreed with their decision.

Knowing what I did already about the situation, this seemed like quite a plausible sequence of events. Further research, however, revealed some holes in the story being presented to me by those in my community. I don’t think this was purposefully done by those I spoke to, but probably reflects the way information travels in a community that has little access to it.

The fact that the resolution on the referendum was passed is true, and yes it was a contentious issue. On the day of the vote 58 senators were present in Congress; 57 voted in favour, and one lone senator voted against. Those in opposition did not even bother to attend the vote.

The current politically divisive issue, however, stems from a direct conflict between Congress and the SET. In an undoubtedly blatant political move, Congress passed a motion against the President of the SET asking that he be removed. The SET resented this attack on its power, and so disbanded the senators who voted in favour of this motion.

As one newspaper editorial pointed out though, the SET seems to have overstepped its power with their decree. The law they are using to back them up applies to government bureaucrats making political statements during election times. Certainly elected Senators are in a completely different situation, and should be free to pass resolutions, even if they are critical of others. In the current political chaos, however, facts like this are easily forgotten in the mayhem.

During this entire situation, President Correa has quietly supported the SET, but has done his best to stay as much out of the issue as possible. Instead he has focused on his message of political reform through the constituent assembly. The current debacle definitely seems to give him support. The clash between congress and the SET is further proof that the system needs to be reformed, and urgently.

Back on television the group of eight senators and their supporters made every effort to yell, scream, and plead with the police officers to allow them to enter. Reporters standing nearby handed them microphones so they could express their views publicly. It seemed as well as if they were constantly on cell phones, rallying as much support as they could. “Democracy yes!, dictatorship no!,” they chanted. On the ground, the tension brewed.

In an effort to calm down the confrontation, one of the chiefs of police came forward to address the crowd, and answer questions from reporters. “Who gave you your orders? Did the President tell you to do this?” one reporter asked him through the fray. He responded that his orders came from the police, implying that they were within the law, and not politically motivated.

The two groups seemed to be at a standstill, when suddenly there was a breakthrough. The Senators and their supporters joined arms and rushed towards the doors of the congress. The group of police officers blocking them had suddenly disappeared! The group was only pushed back when they clashed with police in riot gear standing near the doorways.

After the rush to the doors had been repelled, it seemed that cooler heads prevailed. In some negotiation that must have taken place off camera, the barred Senators were told they would be able to enter the Congress. They continued their raucous protest, chanting and yelling as they entered the building.

Despite the apparent cool down, all could not be diffused for long. All of a sudden, with out any apparent warning, one of the barred Senators who had entered the Congress was found lying almost unconscious on the floor. What had happened, and so quickly too!? His supporters rushed around him, yelling that the police had attacked him. Police officers nearby quickly denied anything and said he had fallen.

In my village, the reaction was unimpressed acceptance mixed with disgust. These people have lived Ecuador’s long history of political instability and for them this was just another case of politicians wasting their time and money. For them they had the more immediate concerns of tending their farms and making sure there was food to eat. Who could be bothered with these political shenanigans?

Regardless of the origin of his injury, the man seemed to be in extreme pain and was unable to move. Paramedics were rushed in and the man was evacuated on a stretcher with head and neck support. He was conscious, however, as I saw him speak a few soft words to one of his supporters as he was taken away.

Later on the President of the congress attempted to cool the tensions by having the chief of police state in front of a crowd of seated media what had transpired. Surrounded on all sides by microphones and cameras he calmly asked the officer to explain what had happened, and then for one of the barred Senators to speak.

The officer responded by restating, in a very controlled manner, that the man had fallen down a set of stairs and his injuries had nothing to do with the police. The barred Senator immediately cut him off yelling that he was lying, and that police were responsible for his injuries. After one minute of calm the congress again descended into anarchy.

The final shot I saw before the station returned to its regular programming was a man speaking to the camera with a huge patch over his eye. This was actually the Senator representing the state and village where I’m living and brought the gravity of the violence even closer to home. It was later confirmed that his injuries came from a demonstrator outside congress and not from the police.

From this event I can draw the following conclusions. The town I am in suffers from an extreme lack of information from the media. Even though it has constant electricity and several public and private televisions, national news, and to a lesser extent international news, rarely filters into the community, or does so in bits and pieces. I am usually the only person in the town who has the time, and the money, to buy a newspaper on a fairly regular basis. The only time I’ve heard any mention of Canada while here was during a 10 second newsflash announcing a major highway accident in Cobourg.

I’ve also seen how events on the national political scene, play out in a small and somewhat disconnected village. While these people with their lives sometimes hanging in the balance, politicians play political games to gain more power. They have ideas and dreams of how their government can help them, but they are sick of waiting for that help to arrive.

Protest in Laticunga

After a hectic first term my girlfriend and I decided to take a few days off and go to the nearby National Park at the Volcano of Cotopaxi. A lingering stomach problem and a bad spaghetti sauce, however, meant that we didn’t get far from the provincial capital of Laticunga. What we saw instead, by far made up for anything we missed.

We were standing outside a hardware store on the city’s main street when all of a sudden a crowd of students appeared in the middle of the road. What first caught my attention was that were mostly all wearing the same khaki school uniform. The students hung around for a bit as a crowd gathered, and then sprung into action. A tire was thrown in front of them, and after being doused in gasoline was quickly set ablaze. They were here to protest.

The composition of the group also struck me as interesting. Most wore the same school uniform, although others in blue and read were also present. The protestors ranged anywhere from elementary school age to young adults. Of the over a hundred people we counted, there were only seven women. The group had a few obvious leaders, including one who ran around with a bandana and bright red communist t-shirt.

As the crowd continued to grow, a group of police officers appeared a few hundred meters down the street. The tension began to build as the police advanced and the protestors armed themselves for the coming conflict.

The first attack came in the form of a rocket that was fired amidst yells and jeers at the police officers. This was followed by several firecrackers thrown at the ground, then a constant volley of rocks. As the assault grew the police slowly inched forward, seemingly unharmed as they deflected the rocks with their riot shields.

Without warning the police made their first attack; a can of tear gas shot straight into the crowd! Instantly the students split, with different groups heading down two side streets and across a nearby bridge. The police followed in hot pursuit. Not wanting to get any closer, we ran for a block in the other direction.

As we stopped to catch our breath, we noticed a park running parallel to the main street about one meter below it. Following a path through the park we thought we had a safe vantage point to follow the protest. We soon realized our mistake. The tear gas had been blown into the park and we were now in the middle of it. The experience of burning eyes and throat and truly horrible.

The first encounter that took place on the main street was repeated several times that morning. The protestors would gather, throw rocks, and then be dispelled when the police fired tear gas into their group. Back and forth they fought on the bridge with the students somehow always being able to regroup. Eventually, however, the police were able to exhaust the energy of the protestors.

Their final move was to send in two men on motorcycle, one brandishing a tear gas launcher. This proved too much and the protestors flew into a nearby market. The police chased them in and the protestors could not regroup.

Later on we learned the cause of this protest. The local bus line wanted to increase the student bus fare from $0.18 to $0.30 per ride, which would mean an extra $1.20 a week for each student on top of what they already paid. What seemed small to us could in fact make a huge difference for many of the students protesting.

With that in mind, I couldn’t help comparing what I had seen in Ecuador, with protests had been involved with in Ottawa. During my time in high school there were several protests again war in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the WTO, all of which despite their scope and importanc, were relatively peaceful. In Ecuador then, how could an issue of local significance lead to so much? Was the protest truly spontaneous, or had something else led up to it? Was protest seen as the only resort against a political system that just wouldn’t listen?

I also remembered a speech I’d heard in front of 60,000 people in Quito where the evangelist Franklin Graham told to people to be nice and support the work of their police officers. Thinking that his message came from post September 11th American culture, I was skeptical if Ecuadorians viewed their police in such a way. This seemed to confirm it. Would you trust someone who fires tear gas into a group that included elementary and middle school students?

Finally, one moment from the protest will remain forever with me. One woman, who must have been very busy, decided she couldn’t wait for the protest to finish. With rocks and tear gas flying overhead, I saw her sprint, head ducked and groceries in hand, between the two opposing groups.

I finished this post about two months ago, but unfortunately the binder I wrote it in went missing(was stolen?) during a community work day. I've discovered that I hate rewriting something after I've already done it once. I had a cool picture, and it was a good story, so I decided to push through and redo it. Now that I look at it, I don't think it's half bad. Hope you enjoyed it.

Snapshots of Ecuador

I often struggle to find the words to express what I see and experience everyday that I’m in Ecuador. Sometimes these experiences are best left unexplained and instead felt just as they actually happened. Here are a few examples:

An motorcyclist without a helmet is cut off by a turning car and sent flying over the hood. Bystanders rush to his aid, and despite his injuries, immediately help him into a car that whisks him away. Meanwhile cars and buses flow by and life continues as if nothing had even happened

At a soccer game an overzealous cheer leaves a man lying on the ground in intense pain. My friend examines him and thinks he has a broken leg. Somehow he is helped to walk off

A mother, father, and two kids on the handle bars, all balanced on one bike

Campaigning in the Amazonian town of Lago Agria, presidential candidate Rafael Correa is set to return to Quito by plane. His rival, in order to thwart his plans, buys the airline and cancels all the flights

Alvaro Noboa has a campaign office in Tena. After his victory Correa makes the exact same place his regional headquarters

I’m telling a woman about my experience being served frog at a meal. “Those Indians,” she exclaims, “they’re just like the Chinese, they’ll eat anything that moves.”

Being constantly asked by people I live with when I’m going to take them back to the United States. I remind them once that again that I’m not American, I’m Canadian.

Being asked where all the fat/gay/rich/poor people live in Canada, as if each group had their own place to live, and this information was readily available

Surviving an attempted robbery on a Quito trolley, only to find my group of attackers was all made up of what seems to be women over 40

The offers, even when it’s known I’m in a long term relationship, to have another, even two, girlfriends on the side. If that’s not to my liking, there are several women who, “I could give a child to.” Sometimes I think they’re joking, other times I’m not so sure

A young indigenous kid runs by, dressed up in clothes made of leaves and a headdress. “Look! I’m an Indian,” he shouts. Does he only become indigenous when he changes what he’s wearing?

Taking an overnight bus home, we have a breakdown and are stranded on the highway in the middle of nowhere. Six hours later a new bus comes to pick us up. That bus almost breaks down twice from overheating

A Chilean woman is invited to lunch with several Ecuadorian women. They start to talk about their problems. Turning to her they ask, “So how’s your life.” She replies, “fine, everything’s going good.” She’s never invited again

Defence minister Guadalupe Larriba dies in a mysterious helicopter crash nine days after taking office. She’s a civilian, a socialist, and a woman. Tragic accident or did the military have other intentions?

Province of Napo’s tourism slogan. Napo: virgin, and a temptress; conquer her!

Running down a dark path at night, my only light is the periodic flashes of lightning that rip through the sky. No rain follows, just lightning. We haven’t had rain in two weeks after having it everyday for two weeks before

Walking into the main Cathedral in Cuenca, I’m surprised not only to see a statue of the Holy Spirit, but Jesus, and even, God himself! After pausing to reflect, I have to ask myself, how do they know what any of those three look like? Later I tell others, “If you go to Cuenca, you will see God.”

A helpful sign in a bus station reminds me of what I cannot bring in, topping the, of course, are any of my goats

Waking up to find a tarantula crawling around my room. The post mortem reveals two strong metal like fangs that were ready to bite me

Buying something for $5 dollars and feeling guilty that if I pay with a $20, I might rob the store of all its change

It’s carnival time! which means open season on flour, eggs, foam, water, or anything being dumped on my head. Watch your step and don’t be afraid to fight back

I'm trying to find a small hostal I know of, so I get into a cab. Despite my assurances that I know where it is, the cab driver assumes I'm a tourist and I'm lost. After 45 minutes of driving around town asking other cab drivers, hotels, and police officers, he finally lets me direct him. We find the hostal in 5 minutes. We then argue about how much I should pay, which ends with him driving off in anger, cursing my name

This is just a sample of what has impacted me in the last six months of my life. My experiences are effected by the fact I’m white, male, well off, can speak fluent Spanish, can’t speak an indigenous language, am open to anything, and don’t mind joking around at all. Someone else who had gone through the same experiences as me, might, and probably would, have seen it completely differently.

Ecuadorian Politics II

In the November 17th issue of the Imprint I wrote about the first round of Ecuador’s two round presidential and congressional elections. Looking back on that article, I now realize how little I knew, and in fact how much more could have been said about Ecuadorian politics in general. The second round revealed much more about the true nature of politics in Ecuador and in which direction the country is heading.

After the first round the final results were a bit surprising for all involved. Noboa was in first with 26%, and Correa second at 22%. In the last week of the first round Correa, rather arrogantly, had convinced himself that because of the results certain polls he could win in the first round. He even went so far as to release ads saying “Let’s win it on the first ballot.” This played into Noboa’s hands, who by using fear and the communism card (usually applied to any candidate from the left), was able to vault himself into first place.

What was most shocking about the first round, however, was not the top two candidates, but who finished third: Gilmar Guitterez, running for the Partido Sociedad Patriotica (Patriotic Society Party, PSP). I had heard so little about him and his party in the first round that I didn’t even bother to write a profile of him in my previous article. After his strong showing what I did learn about him revealed much to me about how politics works in Ecuador.

Gilmar Guitterez is the brother of Lucio Guitterez, Ecuador’s president who was deposed in April of 2005. With Lucio gone, how did Gilmar get to be leader of the PSP? The simple answer is that the PSP is not an actual political party. It would more aptly be called Guitterez Brothers Inc., a corporation created to put them in power. In Canada people organize around parties with policies, common ideology, and a leader who shares that vision. In Ecuador politics is fragmented and personal, and based on politicians extending personal favours to gain power. When party leaders die or lose prestige their parties collapse and are rebuilt around new people.

This organizing principle applies to all parties, especially Noboa and his “party”, PRIAN. PRIAN is in fact not an actual party, but simply another business Noboa has set up whose express goal is to win him political power. His candidate for VP is his top attorney and his senators in congress are all his employees.

It is through these clientalistic relationships that most politicians are able to get into power. Much of this is expressed through “help” to Ecuador’s numerous poor. Accepting this help is actually quite a rational calculation on the part of the poor. If Noboa offers a starving person $40 and t-shirt for their vote, can you blame them for taking it? During the previous Guitterez presidency substantial food aid was provided to poor communities who subsequently voted massively for Guitterez.

The alternative to this form of politics is Correa and Alianza Pais. Through the constituent assembly Correa is proposing not only that politics be done differently but that it not be done by the same group who have always controlled it. The challenge for Correa was assuring moderates that he was committed to the political process and wouldn’t play to extremists. In the middle of the second round he appeared at a hotel in Quito to declare he would abide by democratic principles and form a pact of understanding with several members of civil society.

In the second round I felt as if there was a lot less excitement than in the first. In the last few days, however, the excitement began to heat up. Would Noboa win and transform the country into his personal business empire or would Correa convince Ecuadorian to give credence to his new political path? With only a few days left the polls had Correa and Noboa running neck and neck. Either of the two had the possibility of winning.

Voting day this time was quite different from my past experience. In the first round I was in a big city, this time I found myself in a town of around 500 people. Voters leisurely walked to the polls, took their time voting, and didn’t seem too stressed about the whole thing. I didn’t see much evidence of election excitement until I took a bus into a bigger town a few hours later.

As I got into town I saw the first evidence of an election victory. People in pick up trucks with bright green Correa flags were racing down the street yelling in victory. Gathering outside a television set up on the side of the street I saw the results of the first exit polls: Correa 78% Noboa 22%! The Correa supporters were ecstatic! Across the street at the Noboa office a lone man sat by himself, looking as if his whole world had collapsed around him.

One man I talked to on the side of the street told me how Noboa had blown it in the last week. Noboa often plays up the Christian message in his appearances, but apparently he had gone to far. This man was offended by Noboa’s excessive use of the Bible, the fact that he used the Lord’s name in vain, and his outlandish claim to be “the Christ.” “After all, we are a Catholic country,” this man told me about his decision to vote against Noboa.

On television Noboa was even more frantic and incomprehensible than before. The results couldn’t be true, he asserted, and he had the facts to prove it. Citing a poll from four days before the election he claimed that he had won the election. When the interviewer pointed out that there was four days between the poll and the election he blurted back, “what could have possibly happened in four days?” Apparently Noboa hasn’t studied politics. High voter volatility and a large number of undecided voters mean that only the polls done a day before an election have any real significance.

The Correa victory put several of the Canadians that I was with in a new and interesting situation. Progressive voters in Canada usually have the choice of voting Green or NDP, which they know will lose, or vote Liberal and hope for the best. Very rarely do these voters get more than a strong showing in opposition at best. The chance to actually celebrate a victory was refreshing, despite how I’d tried to remain as detached from the process as I could.

In the end the Correa victory was less substantial than the exit polls predicted but still significant: 56% to 44%. Most telling was his strong victory in two provinces where Noboa has ruthlessly treated workers on his banana plantations. Despite Correa’s victory he still faces the formidable task of convincing congress to relinquish their power and approve the constituent assembly. Will he be able to muster support for change, or fail and bow to the political mercy of congress? Ecuador will find out when he steps into office on January 15th.

Confronting Catholicism in Cuenca

Before coming to Ecuador one fact that had been impressed upon me was how strongly Catholic a country it was. In fact 95% of the population declares themselves as Catholic. As well homosexuality has only been decriminalized in the last 10 years, and birth control is still hard to find and often expensive. It was with this backdrop that my friend and I visited the most Catholic of Ecuadorian cities, Cuenca.

My arrival in Cuenca was anything but ceremonial. Taking the overnight bus we arrived in Cuenca at exactly 4:00 a.m., my stomach having been rearranged by going over speed bumps at what seemed like 100 km/h. As we entered the bus station a sign overhead warned us not to enter, with of all things, our goats!

Arriving as we did, and given the fact that it was the city’s annual holiday, left us with the problem of finding a hostel with an empty room. Fittingly it seemed, our arrival paralleled in some way with the nativity story. Luckily we had met a friendly German on the bus who had a friend with a hostel room. We took a cab to the hostel but were told there was no way they’d let us in. After some pleading that we couldn’t sleep on the street they let us in, but, we’d have to sleep on the floor.

Curling up with my backpack, I tried my best to get to sleep on the hostel floor. Just as I was nodding off I was awoken by exclamations of confusion. One person sleeping on a bed had woken up and completely stepped on my friend. Then he noticed there was another person on the floor. Realizing the situation he graciously offered us his place on the bed, although the two of us still had to share it with one other person. Still, it was an improvement from the floor.

A few hours later we woke up with the hopes of sneaking out of the hostel before they made us pay. Unfortunately we got caught and had to pay $2.50(regular $4.50 a night), for 4 hours of sleeping on the floor!

After taking a day to find a real hostel and orient ourselves, we visited the main Cathedral of Cuenca. When constructed there were plans for it to hold 10,000 people and be the biggest in South America. Halfway through the architects concluded it would be unsafe to build any higher. Thus the cathedral remains oddly half finished. Walking through the huge ornate doors I was struck by the sight of the front of the sanctuary. The reflection off it was so bright it seemed to be covered in gold. What parts of the cathedral they had built had been spared no expense.

The sight of the sanctuary was so impressive that I was thrown into an intense religious revelation. I saw God. Literally. Along one side of the cathedral was a shrine that included a statue of God, complete with Jesus sitting at his right hand. (I asked just to make sure). I’m not sure how they knew what God looked like, or with what motive the statue was made, but hopefully they portrayed him with at least some accuracy.

My next night in Cuenca I happened upon a completely different side of the city’s character. Walking down the street I randomly ran into a rock concert taking place in a public square. Despite being so strongly Catholic, Cuenca is also the rock and roll capital of Ecuador. The band I saw combined intense heavy metal guitar with flute and saxophone accompaniment, kind of like seeing Iron Maiden perform with Jethro Tull. The mostly young crowd was dressed in typical punk clothing and moshed their hearts out at the front of the stage. Perhaps Cuenca’s strongly Catholic character has also produced an equally strong counter-culture.

Leaving Cuenca I felt as if I had experienced some of its Catholic character, but not overtly. The downtown, although historical, had obviously geared itself towards tourists and many of them had been there for the annual holiday. It’s often hard to understand a place after living there for four months, let alone visiting it for four days.

Of course I forgot that I still had to leave Cuenca on the bus. Long bus trips in Ecuador always have at least one movie showing, sometimes more. On one occasion I had been forced to watch Air Force One (good movie), followed by Air Force Two (I wanted to shoot myself), followed by an action movie starring Dolph Lundgren (even worse). On this bus however, we were shown a movie whose sole purpose was to convince people of the evils of abortion.

Normally I would have watched this sort of movie with an open mind and an attempt to understand both sides given how sensitive and controversial the topic is. Trapped on a bus and forced to watch this movie with no warning was a horrible way to approach this topic. To make it worse the movie seemed so decidedly anti-abortion that it bordered on propaganda.

At the end, the movie presented a table comparing North American deaths in certain wars with the number of abortions performed since it was legalized. This was distorted by the fact that the bigger wars (WWI and II) were not fought in North America and that the United States only entered into the war halfway through. It was also claimed that since legalization there had been 20 million abortions in North America, a number that I knew to be false. (Source: the book Freakenomics)

Ironically the abortion movie was followed by a bloody action flick starring none other than Dolph Lundgren, which had one person being shot approximately every two seconds!

In hindsight I should have seen it coming. The bus line we traveled on was called Santa (Saint) and at the front the bus had a big poster of Nuestra Dama de el Cisne (Our Lady of the Swan). Whatever feelings I had of having “missed” part of Cuenca were erased on the bus ride home.

Half Marathon Results

So right before heading off to my placement visit, me and two other girls from the group decided we'd do a half marathon!(21 km) After training for more than a month we finally did it on the 19th of November. All in all it was a good race and I achieved my goal of finishing under 2 hours, 1:56:11 exactly. That put me at 271 out of 437 for men 19-29, 1267 out 2081 of all men, and 1348 out of 2468 total competitors. For me this race wasn't about the time or place I finished, but just proving I could actually do it. (Next time I'll really go for it!) For the race we covered ourselves in Canadian flags, and got cheered a lot for it by people on the sidelines (I was happy they recognized what country we were from) There are some great pictures from the event, which I PROMISE, will be up soon.

The official results (and the proof that I'm not just a good story teller) are at this site:

http://www.asdeporte.com.ec/ (Sorry I can't link directly, you'll have to search directly for my name under RESULTADOS(on the left hand side)-2a. Media Maratón Quito Mitad del Mundo)

Articles Published in Imprint

Much to my suprise the Waterloo's student newspaper has decided to print some of the articles I've written! Hopefully there will be more to come soon. If you want to check them out (and see my writing in a much more concise and to the point way) here are the links:
http://www.imprint.uwaterloo.ca/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=579&Itemid=57 (politics)
http://www.imprint.uwaterloo.ca/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=507&Itemid=57 (bull fighting)

Matthew Explores the Amazon and Beyond

After one crazy week and another that flew by right after it, I finally have some time to write a little about my experiences. Just off the top of my head I hiked to a secluded waterfall, almost died rafting down a river, spent hours boating down another river, went on an amazing night hike, climbed a tower in the middle of the jungle, slept on the floor of a hostel room that belonged to a random German friend I made, and got stuck on a Catholic propaganda bus. I am writing with about a week of hindsight so hopefully I don’t gloss over too much or leave out too much important information.

The day before we left for the Oriente (literally: the east, what Ecuadorians call their portion of the Amazon Rainforest) was one of our typically crazy days in Ecuador. Of course we had a Spanish exam the day we left, and the day before we were in Quito trying to get some of our documents processed that we couldn’t get done in the first week because the office had run out of the appropriate papers. My experience in that office was definitely the worst I have ever had with a government bureaucracy. Our coordinator had called beforehand to reserve a time for our group, had even sent a letter in advance cordially requesting a time (upon their suggestion), and still it took hours to get through! The worst part was that even though we had gone through the supposed proper channels we still got no help from the people working there. The attendant even yelled at me for “not showing respect” simply because I defended my spot in the line. Apparently the person who cut in front of me had spoken to his boss, so they had priority. All I could do was hold my tongue.

Despite the chaos of bureaucracy and an exam we still managed to pull away Friday at 11:00. Our bus from Sangolqui to Tena took us first up the mountains of the Sierra into the paramo (where we had previously spent a night camping, see “Night on Bald Mountain”) and then down into the jungle. We could easily feel the altitude we had traveled; in the first hour it became very cold and then gradually warmed up as we went down the mountain. Traveling down we were given an excellent view of the valley as our bus often went around sharp corners mere inches from the edge. Leaning over and looking down we could see where our bus might have ended up if the driver had been less careful.

We arrived in Tena with a feeling that we were in a completely different world: the heat was hot, the air was dry, and the air was full of sound. Previously Tena had been considered the actual “frontier” of the jungle, now it was the first stop on your way in. In the horribly out of date 1986/87 map my parents gave me it is one of the cities furthest into the jungle. With the expansion of oil exploration into the Oriente, however, there was now much more, much deeper into the jungle.

That night most of our group went out to a slightly fancy restaurant that was opened up along the main river of Tena. They actually had a vegetarian part of the menu and thus I was treated to some excellent noodles in a curry sauce. As part of my anthropological research I had been doing I asked the waiter what in his opinion the difference between Canadians and Americans was. He answered, rather evasively, that Americans had a little more trouble picking up Spanish, and finished by saying politely, “is that what you were looking for?” Knowing the position he was in, I couldn’t ask much more from him.
The next morning Jennifer and I both woke up and went for a swim the river next to our hotel. The water was amazingly refreshing although with the force of the river we had to continually battle so as to not be immediately carried downstream. For this swimming adventure I was sporting my brand spanking new, white, black, and blue SPEEDO. Our coordinator had warned us before that in many Amazonian rivers there is fish that is known to swim up a man’s urethra, and then can only be removed through surgery. Obviously I preferred the speedo to the fish.

Ecotourism in Allukus

After breakfast we were picked up by three trucks and taken to the indigenous community of Allukus. This community had set themselves up as offering “ecotourism” whereby people would get to come and stay in their village and experience an “authentic” indigenous village. This provided a source of income for the community and was offered as an alternative to staying in one of the big hotels in town. The accommodations here were modest but good nonetheless. In order to distribute the beds they gathered us all together then told all the “gorditos”(fatties) to go to one of the lodges that apparently had the sturdiest beds. The rest of us could sleep in the remaining two cabins.

After getting settled in and setting up our mosquito nets those who wanted to were taken on a hike of the area around the village. When I say “village” I actually mean an open clearing around which there was a small road and then thick, thick, jungle. On this hike we walked along the road and then had to cross one at a time across a narrow log bridge with a rope on one side. Once across we were then in thick jungle which we then proceeded to climb up the side of a steep hill. Midway up we stopped to take turns swinging on this hanging jungle vine Tarzan style. After about two hours of hiking in which I took numerous pictures of different flowers and plants we arrived at “paradise.” In the middle of the jungle there was a waterfall that had created a pool we could swim in, totally isolated from everything else. For those who wanted to you could even climb up the rocks next to the waterfall and then after jumping into it get spun around and shot out into the pool. We stayed there for hours just taking in the beauty and power of the water but eventually had to resign ourselves to going back to the village. What did we do once we got back? Go swimming of course! Back near the rope bridge there was another river and pool you could swim in that led down to the main river near Allukus. Being more open we could soak in some of the sun and relax until dinner.

Dinner that night was good, but we could definitely feel the impact of tourist’s expectations on what we were served. Our coordinator told us that in order to prepare all the food the village had gone into town beforehand and bought all the food so they could make something that we would like. We were served a sort of pasta, that was quite good all things considering. What amazed me most was how they were able to make food for 30 people with only this tiny kitchen that was attached next to the dinning hut. To add to the atmosphere our tablecloths were actually huge leaves from a nearby palm tree. During dinner our table was graced by the presence of these cool insects that emitted a bright glow as they crawled around us.

After dinner we all gathered in a circle and participated in a night of cultural sharing. The community of Allukus would present one of their songs, after which we would try to respond as best we could with a song we knew. Some of our songs were “Wayra Shamway”(a Kichwa song our teacher had taught us), I’ll Fly Away, and a slightly shortened version of Barrett’s Privateers. We also read a letter in Kichwa that we had prepared before and also joined the community in dancing to some of their songs. The songs they presented included huge drums, a violin, and two slightly out of tune guitars. At one point we tried to add the banjo in, but without much success.

The one point where I felt slightly awkward was when they performed what I thought was a “shamanistic” ritual. The ritual consisted of one woman going around the entire group and waving a sort of “duster” made of leaves above our heads. Occasionally she would make some sort of noise as if she was trying to get something to go away. I understand it as her expelling the spirits that must have been in us or floating around us. What made it awkward was that some members of our group tried to take pictures at this time complete with flash. This ruined a bit of the atmosphere of the performance by distracting from what was actually going on. Having experienced something similar in Brazil (through Candomble) I also felt as if there was something missing from this ritual. Was it performed just for us? What was actual significance of what was going on? What did this ritual mean to the community? With these questions hanging in the air it was hard to appreciate the significance of what had just happened.

Rafting to Tena

The next morning we were allowed to take it easy and do as we pleased. Some hung around the village while others went down to the river and swam again. Around midday we split as some people went back to Tena by truck and others went white water rafting from the village back into Tena. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity I of course chose the rafting route. In total there were twelve of us who went, eight in one raft, and four in the other, that one being the one where I was, and the one with the most experience. I had only been once before, so I guess I qualified as “experienced.” We soon found out why they put us in that raft. On the third rapids we let the bigger boat go first and with only a few big bumps saw them pass through. We weren’t so lucky. Having only five people in our boat (us plus the guide) we got halfway through the rapids and then were completely flipped over sending all of us flying. All our paddles went flying, and I completely lost sight of everyone in our raft. My sandal which I had had tucked under a rope in the raft was completely ripped off my foot but luckily I was able to grab it before it floated away from me. Remembering the instructions of the guide I crossed my hands in front of me and stuck my feet out in front of me. Luckily the other boat stopped and was able to pick most of us up before we floated too far downstream. Once in the boat I was by the others that their guide had said, “we’ll be fine, but they’ll be flipped like a piece of paper!”

After that scare I thought that the rest of the river would be even worse but fortunately we were able to keep ourselves together for most of the rest of the trip. At one point the other raft was flipped, giving us the chance to play rescue team. The scenery going down the river was immaculate, we had a mix of thick jungle, high exposed rock faces with strange flowers growing out of them, and some places were erosion had created small sandy beaches. Every once in awhile we’d see a narrow cave that would extend quite a distance into the rock; probably punched in by the force of the water. At one point we stopped to play some games on one of the sand bars, at other times they let us get out of the boat and float down the river ourselves. As we’d paddle along people on the banks of the rivers would often yell “hi” to us and wave as we waved back to them. At one point we saw a lone kid on the side of the river stare at us without saying a word. I imagined his thoughts to be thus, “Damn! I walk all this way to go pee, and EVERYTIME, there’s a damn boatful of white people right here!”

Having so much fun eventually lulled us into a false sense of security, which almost proved to be our detriment. Approaching one of the last rapids we failed to see a rock covered by water and actually had half our raft go over top of it. We thought we were fine but as we came off the rock one of our friends was thrown into the water! As we were pulled forward we looked around frantically for her bobbing head but she was nowhere to be found. Panic set in as we realized she could actually be trapped underneath the raft. Moving forward quickly we were relieved to find her above the water. Then began the task of actually getting her back in the boat. Paddling hard we tried to hold ourselves steady but the water prevailed and pulled us down the river just out of her reach. Finally after exiting the rapids we were able to pull her into the boat. With a renewed sense of seriousness we continued down the river unscathed.

Travel Down the Napo

Once back in Tena we set out for the second leg of our adventure, this time down the Napo River. Our eventual destination was Coca, an oil town that had sprung up in the middle of nowhere further down the river. To get there we had to go seven hours by boat down the river in a long, covered, motor powered canoe. Halfway there we stopped at the community of Santa Rosa for the night. The highlight of this stop was the amazing night hike that we went. Rubber boots, flashlights, and bug spray were all mandatory on this walk, although Jennifer didn’t have a flashlight so she stuck close to me the whole time. Walking in a line we would passage the message of the guide upfront through the 15 of us in a bizarre game of telephone. Often by the time the message had gotten to the back, the spider/insect/snake/frog/animal had moved on or something new had popped up on the trail. One girl up ahead screamed so much that we could judge how interesting something was going to be based on her screams.

It would be impossible to describe everything we saw on that hour and a half hike, suffice it say that very rarely did we even see the same species twice. The highlight of the hike was seeing a 400-year-old tree that was impressive beyond belief in its massiveness. It was also cool to see one of the ecology theories I had learned expressed in reality. After learning that the area we were walking through was under water half the year, it was easy to see why there was so much diversity. (This confirms the intermediate disturbance hypothesis, which proposes that the highest species diversity is found in areas with medium levels of ecological disturbance).
The next morning we got early in order to go to our final destination, Coca. It was another three or four hours by boat, but luckily it was smooth enough that we could still get a little rest. Just like when we arrived in Tena, Coca again felt like it was a completely different world. This time however, the small town homeliness of Tena was replaced with the boomtown dirtiness of Coca. The water that surrounded our boat as we approached Coca was disgusting; my greatest fear was that I, or one of my bags, would fall into it. Fortunately in the last three years Coca seems to have picked up somewhat. There are now at least two main streets, and many of the side streets are paved as well. There are traffic lights, but they are completely ignored by drivers and pedestrians a like. After grasping our sense of direction we walked down the main street to our hotel, which was only a few minutes away. This hotel definitely tried to play the exoticism factor to the extreme. Half the rooms were designed as is you were living in one of the huts we had stayed in at Alukus. A statue of two naked indigenous people was found just inside the main courtyard. In one room a poster on the wall depicted a line of indigenous men with their foreskins tucked into their loincloths. All the rooms were positioned around the inside of an open courtyard complete with a little jungle, monkeys, and three parrots and a toucan (all with their wings clipped). These birds hopped around the hotel hoping to get whatever food they could from the hotel guests. The toucan even hoped its way up to Jennifer’s room on the second floor at one point, and refused to leave until the next morning.

Our planned activity for the next day was to go on a “toxic tour” of some of the oil extraction facilities around Coca. We had previously heard a talk about these facilities in one of our classes done by a Belgian environmental activist that had been working in Ecuador for the last 15 years. The story we had heard was one of severe pollution, lack of regulation, exploitation of workers, and complete disrespect for the indigenous people and their land. Unfortunately our chance to see the effects of exploration was not to be. Our guide from a national environmental organization was not able to come from where he was near the Colombian border because the military was not allowing anyone to leave the area. As well the Canadian embassy had strongly recommended that we not go anywhere near areas of oil exploration because of the extremely dangerous political situation and violence in the area. With those plans dashed, and not much more to do around Coca we had no choice but to return to Tena.

Back in Tena and on to Cuenca

The next afternoon we caught a bus at 3:00 to take us back to Tena. The ride back took us six hours that actually went a lot faster than I expected. During the ride we heard a horrifying story about an accident that had taken place on the road we were traveling. Apparently there had been oil spills along that route that as a result had made the road very slippery. Buses that had passed by afterwards had then slipped off the road because of the slipperiness caused by the oil. Fortunately, nothing like that happened to us.

Once we arrived in Tena it was time to find ourselves a hostel. Without much searching we found one along the main street for $5 a night. It had small rooms, comfortable beds, and each room had a bathroom with a toilet. Unfortunately there were no toilet seats.
The next morning we woke up and had breakfast at a nice little café along the river. Our groups split in two, some went back to Allukus to swim in the paradise pond, the remaining four of us (Jenn and I and two friends) went back to the hostel to consider our options. At this point I was running very low on money so I wasn’t sure what exactly I could get myself into. After a bit of talking and flipping through some guide books we decided to head off to the nature reserve of Jatun Sacha (Kichwa for “big forest”). Cruising by some of the shops on the main street we picked up a whole bunch of fruit and vegetables and some “Wawas de pan” (lit: Bread Babies). These are pastries, made out of bread and shaped kind of like gingerbread men, are eaten on the Day of Dead, which in Ecuador is celebrated on November 1st and 2nd. During this day there are ceremonies at the church and many people spend all day in the graveyard, cleaning tombstones, eating food, and honoring the dead. From the town centre we hoped on a bus to Jatun Sacha and after a 45 minute drive were dropped off literally in the middle of nowhere. As we walked up to the office we were greeted by a friendly Ecuadorian man who welcomed us to the park. Jatun Sacha was started when two scientists were granted a section of primary forest in the 1980s to use for ecological research. They have since preserved the forest and now run it is a nature park using volunteer labour. Those who want to work there can come at anytime and pay $250 a month for room and board (not a bad deal at all). There were quite a few volunteers there as we passed through and it looked like they were having a good time.

Our trek through Jatun Sacha was done on the self-guided tour, although we forget to bring the guidebook with us so at each point we would stop and try to guess what it was that we were supposed to be seeing. Our biggest challenge on the hike was ducking underneath all the spider webs that were conveniently strewn across our path. Either the spiders are very quick or it had been a long time since anyone had been down that path. Like our night hike it would be impossible for me to explain everything that we saw. The most impressive sight was a huge moth that was about the size of my hand (Hopefully I will have those pictures developed soon). Midway through the trail we stopped at a 30 meter high tower that had been constructed in the middle of the jungle. We had picked up harnesses from the main entrance and so one at a time we were able to climb to the top. Jennifer surprised me by being the first person to put on her harness and start climbing. Not wanting to be left behind I soon followed her up. The first part of the climb was easy, but things became scarier as I cleared the canopy of the trees. From there the wind picked up a little and the tower began to shake just a little bit more. The view, however, was breathtaking. What surprised me the most was the different shades of green you could see from up top, something you would never have seen from the ground. At the top of the tower there was a platform you could climb through and sit on, just big enough for two, maybe three people. I sat up there with Jennifer for several minutes, until we realized we should probably let our two friends get a chance to see the view for themselves.

On the way back we again had to battle the spiders along the way, which continually kept us ducking and dodging their webs. At one point Jennifer, who as our intrepid leader walked in front, got caught in an anthill, and trapped by some spider webs, could not advance. Provided with that warning those behind her were able to pass through safely but once we got back to the hostel we realized the full extent of what had happened. Either through the ant bites, the spiders, or perhaps some plant she touched Jennifer had begun to have an allergic reaction all over her entire body. She was literally covered with what appeared like bites everywhere on her body. After trying to cool off in the shower a bit I then doused Jennifer in ‘after bite’. Some of us then left to get supper but Jennifer stayed in the hostel to recover. The way she looked, I wouldn’t blame her. I brought her back some pizza from the restaurant, which I’m sure she thoroughly enjoyed. Fortunately after a few hours the irritation subsided and she was able to sleep.

The next morning Jennifer left early on the bus back to Quito while I stayed with my two friends to visit a placement near Tena. Together we visited the community Shandia, which was about 45 minutes outside of Tena. There is a lot I could say about the community but given that I will most likely be doing my placement there I will give only a brief description of it now. The community is very small, perhaps only 40 families live there and it is on a plateau near the river Napo. They mainly produce cocoa, corn, yucca, bananas, as well as many artisan products. Right now they interested in starting fishponds as well as doing some composting projects. The main source of income for the community is the cocoa that they sell to an organic fair trade co-op, known as Kallari, and out of which there is made an excellent gourmet chocolate (I’ve tried some and it’s exquisite). Our impression of the community was very good, what impressed me the most was their spirit of entrepreneurship combined with their willingness to accept volunteers into their community.

Once back in Tena we again split up to continue on our adventures. I continued on to Cuenca with one friend while our other friend decided to go back to Sangolqui. Our plan was to meet our coordinator in Cuenca on Monday so we thought we could at least spend the weekend in Cuenca and get to know the city. Unfortunately for the others the fact that we had to stay in Tena until Friday meant that for them to travel 12 hours from Tena to Cuenca would have been pointless given that they would have to come back on Sunday for classes on Monday. Nonetheless we intrepidly pushed on to Cuenca.

A common feature on any Ecuadorian bus is the endless stream of movies that they play. From Tena to Riobamba we were treated to some of the best movies the world has to offer. To start off with we were forced to watch Air Force 1. All in all it isn’t a bad movie, and the fact that it was in Spanish pleased me a little bit. What movie came next? Why Air Force 2 of course! This is perhaps the worst movie ever made as it was obviously a cash in on the success of it predecessor. This time the Vice-President was in trouble on an island somewhere in the Pacific, apparently he’d been visiting leaders to spread the President’s global warming plan (yeah right!). Basically the whole movie was them running around this island shooting people, combined with horrible acting, plastic characters, and seizure inducing dialogue. The best was the “there’s a gun behind you” which had me cry out for my favourite super hero, Obvious Man! Like at Franklin Graham’s speech, I was the only one in the bus laughing! I almost died when the next film to come up was Men of War staring none other then Dolph Lundgren but fortunately they turned it off. More on him later…
As we got off the bus in Riobamba we met a German guy, and this French lady he had just met on the bus. Seeing as we were both going to Cuenca we decided to hang out with them for a bit. The German guy was working at a hostel in Quito and was going to visit his friend in Cuenca. The French lady was doing volunteer work teaching French through the Order of Malta (I assume a Catholic organization and which would explain why she was going to Cuenca). After a wait of an hour or so we boarded our bus. As I boarded the bus a lady saw me and my long beard and yelled, “Osama bin Laden.” I turned quickly back to her and quipped, “no ya!”(not yet!).

Arrival in Cuenca

Our arrival in Cuenca was about as unceremonial as it could have possibly been. We got into town at 4:00 a.m. completely disoriented and not quite sure where we could go. As we walked into the bus station we noticed a sign warning us not to bring our goats into the bus terminal. Fortunately, we had none with us. Our French friend wanted to leave quite quickly so we decided to stick around with our German friend. Eventually he got in contact with his friend in the hostel, so we decided to catch a cab with him downtown and see if we could get in with his friend. After a quick search we were able to find the place. I rang the intercom and was told there was no room left so our German friend called his friend to come let us in. In a few minutes she came down and but brought a few people along with her. Apparently a fight had broken out in the hostel and had now progressed its way to the door. After that cleared we were able to bargain with the hostel owner to let us sleep on the floor of their room. So at 5:00 in the morning we curled up to our backpacks and tried to get some sleep. About an hour later, I was still trying to fall sleep when I heard, “What the hell!” One of the guys sleeping in the bed had decided to get up and almost stepped on my Canadian friend. Then he saw me and was even more surprised to see two randoms sleeping on the floor of his hostel room. Once he realized what was going on though he was the nicest person in the world. He moved over to another bed so that the two of us could crawl into the bed he had left and try to get some sleep. Unfortunately there was still another person in the bed but compared to the floor it was heaven.

A few hours later we woke up and decided that if we didn’t want to pay, now would be a good time to sneak out of the hostel. Unfortunately we were caught by the hostel staff who informed us we would have to pay $2.50 each for the 4.5 hours we had slept on the floor (regular $4.50 a night). She and I weren’t in much of a position to argue so we said goodbye to our German/Ecuadorian friends, paid the bill, and left! Taking a few minutes to orient ourselves, we decided to go right then and there to buy some breakfast and find a new hostel. A few blocks away we found one and so decided to ask for a room. The women at the front desk replied very sweetly that of course they had rooms, and “would we like the honeymoon suite?” Slightly embarrassed we had to tell her, “somos solo amigos” (we’re just friends). Besides the rooms were really expensive so we moved on.
The next place we found was quite cheaper and we were ready to stay there but again the same problem, all they had was the honeymoon suite! The rooms were so cheap, however, that we decided we would wait a few hours until one opened, which eventually it did. Settling into our room felt great since I was finally able to relax after a crazy journey halfway across Ecuador.

After collecting ourselves we decided to go hang out in the park for the afternoon. There was a festival on called “Mi Cuenca Canta” featuring artists from all across Latin America. While they played street performers danced around on the sidewalks, kids played on the swings, and artists displayed their paintings for everyone to see. Midway through the afternoon it started to rain so we took refuge under a tree. It was there that we met a new friend, who I will affectionately call, “Crazy Fabian.” Fabian was a self declared insomniac, who also said he was an artist. When I asked him what he thought about Canada he said, “Oh you guys are pure white, not like those Americans who have mixed with the red skins.” Then he laughed which made me think maybe he was just trying to push my buttons. Later on I asked him if he knew that the Bible was an extraterrestrial transmission, which of course he said he knew about. When I started to laugh he asked me in a completely straight face, “why are you laughing?” At that point we were at the artist exhibitions, apparently since he wanted us to buy one of his paintings. For some reason none of his were there, so feeling that he was a bit creepy we said it was time for us to go back to the hostel.

A few blocks from the hostel we heard some strange sounds that sounded like they were coming from an outdoor movie from down the street. Curious to know their origin we walked towards them, the sounds getting stranger as we got closer. Rounding the corner what did we find?? A rock concert in the middle of Cuenca! Apparently Cuenca is the rock and roll capital of Ecuador so this happens all the time. What else did we see? Our Ecuadorian friends from the hostel! It was at the point that we realized how small Cuenca actually is. The band playing was called Sal y Miento, what I would call a mix between Iron Maiden and Jethro Tull. They definitely had a metal edge, but weren’t afraid to mix in alto and tenor saxophone along with flute at times. My Canadian friend left halfway through, but I was having so much fun I stayed for the whole thing. At the end, who did I run into? You guessed Fabian! Cuenca is definitely one of those big, small towns.

What else did we do while we were in Cuenca? First we visited the main Catholic cathedral, which was originally designed to be the biggest in South America and hold 10,000 people. Unfortunately there were some flaws in the design so construction was halted halfway through. The interior, however, was ornate to an extreme, the sanctuary at the front seemed as if it was completely plated with gold. At the entrance there was also a statue of Pope John Paul II, about 10 times his actual size. Inside that cathedral I can say that I actually saw God, literally. At one side they had a statue of God, complete with Jesus sitting on his right hand.

Another highlight was a little hostel/restaurant we visited called El Cafecito. This place had great drinks at happy hour as well as some excellent curried pakoras! In Ecuador! If for nothing else I must go back to Cuenca just for that.

Monday it was time to do what we actually came to Cuenca for, see some of the projects we could be working in. Our coordinator took us to an organization that was involved with a cooperative of organic farmers. These farmers had banded together previously to in order to present an alternative to the deforestation that was happening there because the forest was being used to make charcoal. They had now started replanting efforts but the forest was still in the first and second stages of succession. In order to get to the community we had to take a bus for 45 minutes to a town just outside of Cuenca known as Gualaceo. Unfortunately we didn’t even know where we were going or who we were supposed to meet. Halfway there we got a call from Maria’s contact back in Cuenca telling us that she had finally got in contact with the right person and told us where to meet them. Not a moment too soon. When we arrived the people we were supposed to meet were in the middle of a meeting so we sat awkwardly in the corner while they finished up. I have to say that that moment was the oddest I had felt in Ecuador yet. Most of the people there were Indigenous women, which made me feel a little out of place. After Maria got up and spoke in front of everyone about our project, then it was our turn! I’m not sure exactly what I said but people seemed to be nodding their heads at the end. All in all I think we made a good impression.

Traveling back to Quito we had the misfortune of being trapped on what I now call the “Catholic Propaganda Bus.” My first clue should have been the name of the bus line, “Santa”(Saint). Another clue was the poster at the front of Nuestra Dama de el Cisne (Our Lady of the Swan). If that wasn’t enough we were then treated to an “enlightening” movie about abortion, while being trapped on that bus! In most cases I would have been open to seeing a movie like this, if only I hadn’t been trapped on the bus and if the movie had been anything more than pure Catholic propaganda.

At the end of the movie they flashed up a table comparing North American deaths in major 19th and 20th century wars versus the number of abortions since it was legalized. I found this comparison flawed for two reasons. First of all the United States only entered WWI and WWII more than halfway through and suffered many less casualties then say Russia or Germany. Secondly was the reported number of abortions, 20,000,000. I don’t know where they got this number, but according to what I have read must recently the number is 1.6 million in the US since Roe vs. Wade. Perhaps the other 18.4 million took place in Canada and Mexico but I find that highly unlikely. If they were going to present statistics, they should have at least presented ones that are correct.

We arrived in Quito at 3:00 in the morning. Not wanting to miss class the next day we took a cab back to Sangolqui. I was so tired I fell asleep as soon as I got home. The next morning I almost gave my parents a heart attack when they walked downstairs only to find me sleeping on the couch! Then they opened my door only to find my friend sleeping on my bed! After I explained things, it was all good.

Ecuador Votes!

My first glimpse of Ecuadorian politics came through the cynical lens of my politics professor. In an introductory talk he gave during our orientation week we were introduced to the main political contenders and told why ultimately each was a flawed candidate. Quite a base to build on indeed! Eternal optimist that I am I decided to do a little more searching. This being an election year in Ecuador there was potential for anything, not the least being a coup or some sort of civil unrest. One thing’s for sure, you can never accuse Ecuadorian politics of being boring.

Ecuador is a diverse country that has produced a wide variety of candidates from each of Ecuador’s three regions: the east Amazon, the central highlands, and the western coast. From the beginning it was clear from the ads on television, the posters plastered around town, and from my conversations with people that there were four main candidates for president. This is despite the fact that 17 contenders had put their hats into the ring for this year’s presidential contest.

The first candidate for president to appear was Cynthia Viteri, candidate for the Social Christian party. As my cynical professor pointed out, the Social Christian party is neither social, nor Christian. Certainly after having seen her ads and what she said during the debates I had a very hard time pinning down what exactly she was and what she stood for. On all her posters she wears an Ecuadorian bracelet with her hand over her heart and the slogan, “Yes, Ecuador can do it.”(Ecuador, si se puede) Despite the uplifting feeling of that slogan, what does it actually mean? As far as I can tell she supports increased health and education spending and more employment. Unfortunately that line is a standard for everyone who wants to mount a half serious presidential campaign and does nothing to distinguish her at all. It would seem that Cynthia’s election as the Social Christian candidate was more a choice of style than substance. As intelligent as she may seem, a beautiful, fair skinned, blonde haired woman as candidate is clearly a play to the most basic of instincts of every Ecuadorian male.

A more reasonable choice from the top four is Leon Roldos, representative from Izquerda Democratica (Democratic Left). The conscious feeling from my family and others was that a vote for Roldos was a vote for stability. If you liked the status quo and didn’t want radical change in Ecuador in anyway, Roldos was your man. His campaign has focused mostly on delivering a government that is free of corruption and strong on ethics. With regards to trade he supports putting the proposed free trade agreement with the US to a national referendum. Roldos’ downside is his complete and utter lack of charisma or facial expression. During the televised debates he would speak in almost a mumble (as a non native Spanish speaker I had the most trouble understanding him) while chopping his left hand up and down in rhythm to what he said. His other hand he kept glued to his side, so much so that I actually became concerned that it might be paralyzed. Halfway through he then switched to right hand movements which then had me concerned about his left hand!

A more radical front-runner is the independent candidate, economist Rafael Correa. He exudes charisma like Hugo Chavez and is backed by a strong core of supporters and a slick media campaign. In contrast to Cynthia however, you most definitely know who he is and for what he stands. His platform is based on two main ideas. First is constitutional reform. He supports disbanding congress and launching a citizen’s assembly to draft a new form of government for Ecuador. Second, he is against the proposed free trade agreement with the United States and very much in favour of economic nationalism. In the last government he, as Minister of the Economy, forcibly renegotiated Ecuador’s contracts with foreign oil companies to increase Ecuador’s share from 20 to 40% of all oil revenues. He also redirected oil revenues away from the 75% that was supposed to go towards paying off the debt as stipulated by the World Bank. As result the World Bank threatened to retract 400 million dollars in loans unless he was removed from office, which of course he quickly was. He enters the race with this baggage but also with the precedent that he will act on his convictions.

Finally we the last of the front runners, if he even can be considered a legitimate candidate: Alvaro Noboa running for PRIAN. I struggle for words to describe him but I think I can settle on these: I’ve finally found someone with more money and less intelligence than George W. Bush. He is by far the most ignorant, incompetent and ludicrous buffoon to ever enter politics. In the debates and in interviews on television several reporters and commentators have had to forcible suppress their smiles and laughter when he attempts to answer their questions. The way he erratically waves his arms in the air and shrieks when he speaks makes him seem more like some sort of fiendish goblin than a human being. One of my professors went so far as to suggest he could actually be, “mentally deficient.” Bush claims he speaks regularly with God, Noboa has publicly tried to perform faith healings while on the campaign trail. He would probably be completely ignored as a candidate except for the fact that he is extremely rich; his family collectively controls about 5% of Ecuador’s total GDP.

With this as the background Ecuador lurched it’s way into election day on Sunday October 15th. At the polling station in Sangolqui everything seemed normal, except of course for the typical Ecuadorian idiosyncrasies. Ecuador has a no drinking law on election weekend, as apparently in previous years many have showed up totally plastered to vote. Along with the voters there were the ice cream, hot dog, and other food vendors that you find at any event. Men and women had to vote at separate voting booths, each of which was protected by an army officer in full fatigues and caring an automatic rifle. Circling in the background were medics from the Red Cross, just in case.

After visiting the polling station with my host family I returned home to watch the proceedings on television. The main focus during the day was the voting by each of the main candidates. Cynthia, all smiles as usual, proudly proclaimed she was voting for her list of senators, Correa, moved through the crowd at his booth with his usual charisma. At Noboa’s booth it was pure pandemonium. It was not clear what the problem was but he needed the protection of his personal bodyguards to even get to the booth. Once there he made a show of each ballot he marked, and then, with his trophy wife in hand, escaped through a side passage.

With voting finished and the polls closed, the entire country then anticipated the first results, which would be the exit polls that would come out shortly after 5:00 p.m. Ecuador’s system resembles somewhat that of the United States. They elect a provincial council, a national congress, and a president with executive powers. This is combined with a run off system; the top two candidates in the first round then face off against each other in an additional month of campaigning. All throughout the campaign people had been talking about a Roldos-Correra runoff, although at the end some had been talking about the slight possibility of a Noboa-Correa contest. The shock came with the release of the first exit polls. Noboa was in first with 28.2% followed by Correa one percent behind. The sense of shock was palpable. Responding to these shocks the national television networks rushed to get Noboa on their programs. His incompetence did not disappoint. Pumped up by his apparent victory his hand movements were even more wild, his shrieks several tones higher, and his speech even more incomprehensible. To top it off his cell phone went off in the middle of the interview! I can’t even fathom who would want or need to call him at that point.

Later in the night as the official results came in it was apparent that Noboa’s lead was even greater. While polls done the day before the election had showed Correa in the high 20’s and Noboa in the low 20’s the actual results were the exact opposite. Although there was still 27% of people who were undecided the day before, the fact that things had changed that much seemed suspect at least. The Correa supporters that I watched the results with were convinced it was fraud. They claimed that Noboa had paid people $40 each to vote for him. After seeing the results I found this not hard to believe. Noboa received 40% of the vote in the coastal region where he owns huge tracts of banana plantations. How easy would it have been for him to pay all his workers a little extra to vote for him?

Partisan bickering aside, there was one more election night fact that stuck in my mind.
Although all Ecuadorians have to vote, over 500,000 of them chose to leave their ballot blank or spoil their ballot. This is perhaps the true message of the election: some are so sick of the process that they won’t vote for anyone.

Night on Bald Mountain

In hindsight I can hardly believe that I got myself into the following situation. Usually I am a very careful person that takes all the normal precautions whenever I get myself into something. Yet somehow within a twelve-hour period I pushed myself as close to the precipice of death as I have probably ever been.

Our weekend excursion was supposed to be challenging, a little bit of hard work, and a whole lot of fun. Eight Canadians from our group, including my girlfriend Jennifer, were led by one student’s host father Colonel Louis on a climb of the nearby mountain Pasochoa. We all met at his house in the early afternoon and after the truck we had rented picked us up, we were off on our adventure.

The trip began as ideally as any trip could have. Sitting in the open back of the truck we had the wind in our faces and a common feeling of enthusiasm. Our trek up the mountain was like entering into an entirely different world. Although we only went a few minutes down the road from Sangolqui’s urban core, we were instantly in an entirely different rural setting. The road up the mountain had a small town feel: cobbled mixed with dirt roads, huge stretches of farmland, small family owned plots, and the occasional stable or corner store. As we moved further up the mountain it became a bit greener, there were lush green eucalyptus plantations around us, and we were given a magnificent view of the valley below us. Our enthusiasm was high and pushed forward with a sense of adventure.

The truck dropped us off at the Pasochoa hydroelectric dam and after exploring that for a bit we walked up a well worn path nearby. This part of the mountain appeared more jungle like with its intense greenery, sounds of birds, and thick foliage growing down the sides of the path we were walking. Occasionally there would be a lone flower that would stick out which made for some excellent photography. At one point I was a bit confused to find myself walking through a stretch of pine trees, clearly not a native species. I later learned that a foreign company had convinced Ecuadorians to plant them there and elsewhere in the country.

After hiking for about an hour we reached an abandoned house that seemed like it would be a good place to stop a camp and from which we could attempt the summit the next morning. Some of us, feeling a few rain drops, quickly ran off to collect some firewood. When we returned however we found that the group had decided to push on and camp near the summit; we would then be able to climb it tomorrow morning and make our descent. Having been assured that there was a camping spot we picked up our bags and moved on.

Immediately after the house there was an abrupt change in scenery. Thick low grasses, thorny shrubs, and different kinds of cacti replaced the thick forest. In one of our classes we had learned about this kind of area, known as a paramo, but seeing it for real was even better. A little further up we passed through a thicket of blueberries and although we were offered some, were told not to eat the black ones because they were hallucinogenic.
With what was about to happen, perhaps I should have taken some along with me.
At this point our climb became noticeably harder. Walking through the tough grass our legs picked up a lot of water, which slowed us down, and got our clothes wet. The path we were on was a bit steeper and because of some previous rain, quite muddy. To make matters worse it passed next to a small ravine. At times the drop was not much at all, at others, you would have been in serious trouble. This made us think twice about how fast we moved and a result our pace slowed down. As we inched our way up the hill the sun inched closer to the horizon, the wind picked up slightly, and the rain began to sprinkle down our backs.

Throughout this entire trek I had been hanging at the back of the group so I could be with Jennifer. She was feeling a little out of the breath from the altitude and because we were so close to the ravine I felt I should stick with her. Reflecting back I realized how this position affected how we contributed to the group. Because the others were always waiting for us any important decisions had already been made by the time we caught up. As a result all we could do was blindly follow those who were in front of us and trust they had made a good decision.

After surviving the ravine trek and passing through a barb wired fence we knew we were really on the mountain. All of the plant life was gone; the only surviving species was that same persistent knee high grass. The angle of the ascent was also quite steep and we were thus slowed down again. By now darkness had clearly set in and ominously the rain had picked up. Falling even further behind I suddenly realized that I had been so focused on helping Jennifer that I couldn’t see anyone of our group in front of us. As the fog set in around us I felt the first pangs of panic in my stomach. Where was everyone? Why weren’t we at the campsite yet? Who was leading this expedition? It was only at this point that I realized how grave our situation was. The darkness combined with fog meant that even with her glasses Jennifer could see nothing and I had no idea where we were going: literally the blind leading the blind.

Not wanting to trek along the muddy ravine in the dark I realized that the only thing we could do was push forward with the group. Hopefully we could trust our guide and find a campsite nearby. Wanting to catch up with the others I managed some sort of a whistle with my freezing hands and the dug through my bag for my flashlight. At this point my hands were so cold that I could hardly even move the zipper to get it. Even worse I had been sitting with Jennifer so long that even my feet where beginning to go numb. Realizing that I would have to warm up quickly I dug into my backpack and pulled out my jacket. To do so I had to untie my sleeping bag and part of our tent that was attached to the top of my bag. Turning to Jennifer I said, “come on let’s go.”

The only problem was, Jennifer wasn’t going anywhere. The rain, the fog, all the wet clothes, the cold, the constant up and down of the mountains had finally gotten to her. In exasperation she had decided to lie down and was not going to budge. When I tried to get her to move she yelled, “Matthew, I don’t want to die of hypothermia.” We needed help. Not knowing where to put the tent I stuffed it inside my jacket and grabbing Jennifer’s bag proceeded to dash as fast as I could with it up the hill. Once at the top I found that the rest of our group was doing no better. One guy was helping his girlfriend, who was in about the same shape as Jennifer, moving along as fast as they could. The rest of the group was up ahead but they had still not found the supposed campsite. Enlisting the help of one of our group members we were able to lead Jennifer up the hill and on to a small flat plateau. I felt for sure that we could go no further but no! We pushed on down into another valley and up another hill. Finally we were told to stop and pitch the tent, on the side of the hill! I do not exaggerate when I say that if you accidentally slipped on this hill you might easily find yourself a few hundred feet downhill in no time! With freezing hands we somehow got a six and two person tent set up and quickly threw ourselves into them. It was only at that point that we realized it was only 8:30 and that we would have to last at least another ten cold hours in that tent.

If the time up to this point was hell, then the rest of the night was purgatory. I still don’t understand how we survived that night. Some of our group members were so unprepared they hadn’t even brought dry clothes or a sleeping bag. Two of them spent most of the night curled up in a small blanket that could hardly fit around the two of them. Jennifer and I both had sleeping bags but hers was so wet that we both ended up curling up with both of them thrown over us in whatever way worked. Sleeping was impossible as we had to constantly to stop ourselves from rolling down the hill. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was our fearless leader. Upon entering the tent he proclaimed, “Ah, just like my bed at home,” and proceeded to fall right asleep.

Seven people in a six person tent, all cold, all tired, all desperately searching for heat can make for a very tense situation. Oddly enough we finally all relaxed enough that no matter what anyone said it all ended up being hilarious. After not having slept all night I’m sure you can imagine how funny it is to hear someone say “Olsen’s Standard Book of British Birds, the expedited version.”(For all you fans of obscure Monty Python references). At this point the absurdity of the situation had reached such a height that searching for heat we all ended up pilling on top of each only to realize that we didn’t generate that much heat and those on the bottom didn’t like having their organs crushed.

Waking up after having been in the freezing cold for ten hours was oddly like Christmas morning. With the sun came some heat and the clearing of the fog and we were given the gift of a spectacular view of what we had climbed last night. If we had seen that hike before we had done it in the dark there is no way we would have ever done it. There was the also the joy of discovering what was lying in the tattered remains of our tent. Socks, pants, underwear, bras, hats, coats, food, pillows, some clean, all wet, were ceremoniously dragged out and thrown to whoever claimed them. The tent on the other hand was destroyed, but I don’t think anyone cared.

Our joy was so great at seeing the sun that we quickly got down the mountain and after some breakfast, our first food in hours, got back to the city as soon as we could. On the slow trudge home I tried to find the words to explain to myself what had happened but couldn’t. The whole last night seemed like a blur of action that I had been dragged through against my will. Only later did I recognize the significance of it all: all of this had happened on Friday the 13th.

Evangelism in Quito

Saturday the 23rd of September I got my first introduction to religion in Ecuador, albeit in a very interesting way. When I had first arrived in Quito I saw a sign at the airport advertising for an event featuring the evangelist Franklin Graham, son of Billy Graham, and hearing that the family of one of the students in my group had decided to go, I decided to take advantage of the invitation. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect, but I thought at the very least I could understand a little more about this side of Ecuador. Besides, it was free.

In order to get to the event, which was being held at the Olympic Stadium in Quito,(the same place as the soccer game we had previously been to) we had to take the local bus which is always lots of fun. Previously the plan had been to go with only three or four people, but in typical Ecuadorian style half an hour before the event I got a call from my friend saying that her whole family was coming, and that we had to be at the bus stop now! I quickly ate my lunch and then after calling Jennifer, sprinted down to the bus stop on a full stomach. Luckily I got there before my friend, but where was Jennifer!? After many tense minutes of waiting she finally arrived just seconds before our bus left!

The bus ride to Quito was as calm as an Ecuadorian bus drive could be. Stops and starts and sudden swerves to the side of the road to pick up anyone who blinks are all too common. Perhaps in anticipation of what we were about to experience in Quito our bus was boarded by a traveling evangelist who preached in an apocalyptic style for about five minutes then circled with a collection cup. These sorts of events are very common in Ecuador; while sitting on a bus you might be approached by evangelists, little kids who sing, or vendors of all kinds.

Arriving at the stadium in Quito we were immediately hit by the sense of atmosphere. While the soccer game had been big, this was much bigger. The vendors where out in full force selling drinks and food of all kinds, along with religious paraphernalia of all sorts. The entrance to the stadium was so crowded that we would have easily been separated if we hadn’t all held on to each other. Finally we were able to secure a seat and settle into the atmosphere of the stadium.

Although this was an evangelizing event, what held everything together for the first part was the music. Singers from all over the Spanish speaking world (Ecuador, Spain, Puerto Rico, US/Mexico) sang a variety of rock, gospel, and spiritual ballads. Some songs were had obvious Christian messages, while others seemed to be played simply because they were fun, although they were prefaced with something along the lines of “this song is for God.”

Besides the music it was impossible to ignore the economic significance of the event. A stadium packed with 50,000 people will undoubtedly attract all sorts of people looking to make money in some way. As the music played on stage, a man with no eyes was being led around in front of us with a small cup for donations in front of him. If you missed him on the first pass you could easily see him again when he continued around on the next row up.

Finally after about an hour and a half we reached the climax of the event, the evangelizing sermon by Franklin Graham. While before I had felt that the Christian message of the event had been quite subtle, now it could no longer be ignored. As I had thought before, Franklin Graham did not speak Spanish(or not very well) so his message was delivered with him speaking in English and another man speaking directly after him in Spanish. Although we could obviously understood him in English, the fact that we could pick up some of the Spanish as well led to some interesting comparisons between his English message and the Spanish translation.

The first thing I noticed was the remark he made about the importance of police officers. He said(more or less), “I noticed coming here that you have many police officers in your country...when you leave, go up to a police officer and say thank you[for the work you do].” I may be wrong, but I think this line of his speech comes out of a post September 11th American realization of the importance of their policemen and fire fighters. However relevant this may be for Americans, I’m not sure the police are viewed in quite the same way in Ecuador.

The second discrepancy in the translation was pointed out to me by Jennifer. Franklin Graham being from an evangelical Church in the United States, devoted a major portion of his speech to the sinfulness of sex outside of marriage. “Any sexual relationship outside of marriage is a sin.” He referred to this in three or four lines of his speech, which in relation to the other themes on which he concentrated made it quite its part quite substantial. The Spanish translator in those passages, however, instead referred to the sin of “infidelity” and the importance of being faithful. Although that does convey the same general them, it was obvious that he was shying away from using the word “sex.” In North America we can use the word “sex,” even if to condemn it, but as Jennifer told me, in South America the word is so taboo it often can’t be used in any context.

Despite the serious bent of the speech, there was one point where Jennifer and I couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that we may have been the only ones in the stadium doing so! At one point in his speech Franklin Graham said very clearly, “everyone in this stadium is a sinner.” He then continued to say, “I, Franklin Graham, am a sinner.” How did that come out in Spanish? You would have expected the translator to say with conviction, “I am also a sinner!,” but instead he raised his voice and with his arm strongly pointing to his left said, “Franklin Graham es un pecador!”(Franklin Graham is a sinner!) This was too much for Jennifer and I and we immediately burst out laughing, instantly attracting the attention of everyone in our section who looked at us with puzzled expressions as if to say, “What’s so funny?” Sometimes being bilingual has its advantages.

The event ended with a huge altar call that must have included thousands of people. Those who were ready to commit their life to Jesus were asked to come forward and join with Franklin Graham in prayer. To his credit he did say, “you are coming to God, not to me.” Those who came forward were presented a letter from Franklin Graham, the gospel of John, and a bible study to go along with it. This I found quite interesting. Basing your evangelism on the gospel furthest removed from Jesus’ life and which the Jesus Seminar(http://www.westarinstitute.org/Jesus_Seminar/jesus_seminar.html) concluded had almost no words that were actually said by Jesus himself seems suspect at best. Then again this was a mass evangelism event, not a place you’d expect to find a dedication to scholarly consistency. As my friend noted, “I hope this isn’t all it would take to convince someone.” At the same time it was significant that such an overtly protestant event could take place in such a traditionally Catholic country as Ecuador.