Yachana in NYT

Well, well, well. It looks like the news media knows what to cover and where!

On Sunday, a New York Times columnist used his column to write about the story of the two men behind Yachana Foundation. Hopefully that name sounds familiar to ya, because that means you read this post about my visit to Yachana Lodge when our study abroad group went to the Amazon in late February.

It's great to see Yachana getting coverage like this because what the foundation is doing is really special. I feel really lucky that we got to visit the Amazon under its watch. I also feel lucky that Juan Kunchikuy, the indigenous half of the Yachana business pair, is the one who served me that tasty grub!

I'm pasting the text of the column below, just because I know that then there's a better chance that you'll read it.

April 27, 2008
Op-Ed Columnist
Odd Couple of the Jungle
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF

IN THE AMAZON JUNGLE, Ecuador

Douglas McMeekin was a failed businessman in Kentucky, and Juan Kunchikuy was a hunter in a remote nook of the Amazon rain forest who killed monkeys, deer and wild pigs with a blowgun and poison darts.

Now this unlikely pair has joined forces in a remarkable campaign to save the rain forest, “the lungs of the earth” that suck up the carbon we spew out. Of all the struggles to fight climate change, this is one of the more quixotic — and inspiring.

The Amazon rain forest that both men treasure is being hacked down, along with other tropical forests around the world. More than half of the world’s tropical rain forest is already gone, and every second of every day, another football-field-size chunk is destroyed.

Mr. McMeekin, now 65, started out not as an environmentalist but as an entrepreneur running a hodgepodge of small businesses in Lexington, Ky., employing about 50 people. In the 1982 recession, he went bankrupt.

Pained and disillusioned, he decided to go far away — to Ecuador, where he eventually found work in the Amazon as a liaison between international oil companies and indigenous tribes. He came to love the people, and his heart went out to them.

In school, Mr. McMeekin had suffered from undiagnosed dyslexia. “I was just a ‘dumb kid,’ and carrying that burden is difficult,” he recalled. The stigma left him empathizing with the Amazon natives, who were often scorned by outsiders as slow and backward because they were unschooled.

Mr. McMeekin began the Yachana Foundation in 1991 to promote education among natives of the Amazon, and in the course of his travels by canoe (there are few roads in the region), he met Mr. Kunchikuy, then a boy living in a cluster of huts a five-hour walk from any other village. Mr. Kunchikuy and his family were semi-nomadic, speaking an obscure tribal language (his real name is Tzerem, but an Ecuadorian official filling out his birth certificate turned that into “Juan”). They survived largely by hunting with darts tipped with home-made curare poison.

Mr. Kunchikuy was one of 12 siblings, of whom five died in childhood. One of his grandfathers was speared to death in a war with a rival tribe; another grandfather adorned his house with the shrunken heads of enemies he had killed.

At the time, in 1995, Mr. McMeekin was building an eco-lodge in the jungle for American tourists, to finance his dreams of promoting education for local people. So he invited the boy to move to the lodge and work and study. At the age of 17, Mr. Kunchikuy left his pocket of the rain forest for the first time — and encountered such wonders as shoes, electricity, running water, telephones and cars.

It was soon obvious that Mr. Kunchikuy had a first-rate mind, so Mr. McMeekin sponsored his education and a home-stay visit to Boston, where in the winter he encountered a puzzling white substance that was very cold. His tribal language, Shiwiar, has no word for snow, ice, freezing or even anything very cold. So after his return, it was tough to describe to his friends how his host family had taken him ice skating and snow-boarding.

Mr. Kunchikuy now speaks fluent English, on top of his other languages — Shiwiar, Spanish, Quichua, Achuar and Shuar, not to mention his mastery at calling monkeys and birds in the jungle. He became a naturalist and guide at the Yachana Foundation’s 18-room eco-lodge, which tourists reach by riding in a canoe for nearly three hours.

Now 30, Mr. Kunchikuy points wildlife out to American tourists and demonstrates that grubs can be tasty. He also displays his impressive collection of scars, from vampire bats, a piranha, a caiman, a stingray, and a shaman who operated on his chest to block another shaman’s black magic. In his spare time, he demonstrates how to shoot a blowgun.

“It has a range of up to 150 feet,” he explained. “It’s better than a shotgun, because it’s silent. You can shoot repeatedly if you miss the first time.” (Keep an eye on nytimes.com in the coming days for a video of Mr. Kunchikuy using his blowgun to spear a papaya balanced on my head — but don’t tell my wife.)

Yet the traditions he grew up with are eroding, much like the rain forest. Loggers are chipping inexorably away at the Amazon, robbing the planet of biodiversity and of a great carbon sink that absorbs our greenhouse gas emissions. On top of that, the deforestation itself, including slash-and-burn clearing, accounts for 20 percent of global carbon emissions, the same amount as that produced by the United States or China. Several studies declare that the low-hanging fruit in the war against climate change is keeping these forests alive.

In my next column, on Thursday, I’ll tell you how Mr. McMeekin and Mr. Kunchikuy are doing just that.

Pocahontas got skillz

Did I mention the team's name is Pocahontas? Not sure who came up with that one...

Anyway, here's a pic of our soccer team before the final game. I'm the gringa without a uniform.

The Futbol Final - It came down to PKs

Unfortunate news.

Get this. We were tied 2-2 when the final whistle blew at the end of the second half. This meant we were going to penalty kicks. Three shots for each team. Six girls up, six goals scored (including one by yours truly). Then it became sudden-death penalty kicks. Their girl scored. Then it was our girl´s turn. And. Their goalie saved it. And just like that, game over. They won.

Dang, it was a beastly game. To come down to PKs like that... d-dang. I´m pretty disappointed.

Saturday morning, our team is playing in the finals of the university´s ¨Olympic¨games, against the same team. Revenge, anyone? I think so. Unfortunately I may not be able to go because I¨m going to my host family´s farm, like a 1.5 hours away, and I think we´re leaving early Saturday morning. But maybe I¨ll convince them to come to the game and we´ll leave from there.

UPDATE:
Didn't get to go to the game - we left early Saturday morning at about 7:30 am for the farm. The farm was a great time and I'm really glad I got to go. (Hopefully a post about that soon.) Haven't heard yet if we won the game or not!

Ecuador in WashPost Travel Section

My dad kindly sent me the link to this story about a Post writer's trip around the northern sierra region of Ecuador.

As a woman traveling with another female friend, the writer's focus is--what else?--the shopping she did here. She says that in fact, she picked which haciendas to stay in based on their proximity to Ecuador's biggest artisan markets. She seems to have found the right markets--but the wrong prices. Talking about her time in Otavalo, Ecuador's largest and most well-known market town, she writes:

"We strolled, we pointed, we bargained. Two subtly dyed cotton scarves for $12 seemed plenty cheap to me, but it was a thrill to get them for $10, and the young Andean woman selling them looked happy, too."

Ah! Two scarves for $10? Common lady, everyone knows that those scarves are 3 for $5! No wonder the "young Andean woman" was happy. I'm happy for her too, and glad that the overpaying gringo doesn't have to be me.

That's all for now.

My face is sunburned...

...but my intramural soccer team is going to the finals!

Today we had our semi-final game against a really good team, which beat us last time we played 5-3. This time, we held our own, beating them 1-0. I've found my new calling as a defense player, too, which is exciting. Ecuadorian girls' soccer is definitely less aggressive than our N. American game (I guess they haven't done their aggression drills with Coach Bill), but these girls do have a good touch.

Wish you could be here to cheer us on in the final next Thursday! And I'll remember to wear sunscreen next time.

Well-fed, but a bit fed up

This afternoon, our BCA director Daniel had some of us over to his house to hang out and discuss food - Ecuadorian food experiences, the culture of Ecuadorian food, and the causes/effects of rising global food prices. Our group for the afternoon was six girls, plus Daniel and Martha (the assistant director), plus Daniel's two children (a little pug and a rescued, street-dog mut).

But before the discussion, we cooked. First, we made two loaves of beer bread, using Ecuador's national beer, Pilsener. Then we made tortillas de quinoa (quinoa patties) using the common Ecuadorian grain quinoa, which is kind of like cous cous and is extremely rich in protein. Both of the recipes are really easy and they yield very delicious results, so no doubt I'll be making them again when I get home. Daniel also made a pot of fresh, delicious coffee, which tasted exceptional. Everyone here in Ecuador drinks instant coffee/Nescafé, which rarely satisfies the coffee craving.

After eating our delicious bread and patties, we - paradoxically - had a lengthy conversation all about the food crisis. World Bank President Robert Zoellick recently acknowledged the global food emergency, caused by drastically rising food prices and causing much hunger. There has been an 83% increase in overall food prices over the last three years. Ecuador has especially seen food prices rise considerably. There was a recent radio report that nearly half of Ecuadorians who usually make a traditional Holy Week soup didn't think year because the ingredients were too expensive. Reasons for the global price hike include increased demand, natural disasters (perhaps linked to global climate change), diversion of food crops to energy production, and domino effects of the US economic recession. Right now, there are sufficient resources and land to feed the world's population, but the problem lies in distribution, which is a difficult problem to correct.

Afterwards, several of us went out to a sushi bar for dinner, where there was a 2 rolls for 1 deal. Sushi is like one of my favorite foods, so needless to say I really enjoyed the dinner.

But now I'm back at home and am exceptionally alert for the hour -- probably due to the three generous cups of coffee I had at Daniel's house. And I can't help thinking how lucky I am that despite the enormous problem facing our global population, everyday I have more than sufficient food to eat. How do we allow this to continue to be a persistent problem?

Any thoughts are welcome on this issue... It is something that is so easy to ignore, since it doesn't affect us in our daily lives, but something we really should be conscious of...

an Amazoning Time

Two of my friends (Leslie and Jesse) and I, accompanied by Jesse's dad, ditched classes for a few days to head back to the jungle. As I had mentioned in a previous post, Jesse and I had been thirsting for more jungle, and so we planned this trip. It wasn't quite the "lost in the jungle" experience we wanted, but nonetheless we had a sweet time.

We chose to go to Macas, an area in the southern Amazon region, because it is more isolated and less visited than the northern Amazon cities. We figured we might get a more authentic, less touristy visit there, which definitely proved to be true. Through the Lonely Planet Ecuador guide, we found the e-mail address of a tour guide in Macas who offers several-day treks in the jungle around Macas. His name is Tsunki, and he is of the Shuar indigenous tribe. The Shuar people, which are now split between those who have accepted modern civilization and those who still live isolated lives deep in the jungle, are most well-known for their practice of shrinking heads. This tradition has since been deemed illegal by the Ecuadorian government, but they still practice it with animal heads. Unfortunately we didn't get to see either.

We arrived in Macas early Tuesday afternoon. We were met at the airport by Tsunki and his tour-guide business partner Bolivar, another Shuar. That afternoon, they took us to Bolivar's home, where Bolivar, his wife, and their seven-year-old son live. They have two fairly large huts that make up their living space. One is elevated, and inside it is bare, save two beds made up of dried bamboo slats raised off the floor and a large pile of dried corn (which apparently is used for feeding their chickens). The other hut is the kitchen area - inside the majority of space is taken up by the cooking fire, but there is also a table and benches line that the perimeter.

When we got there, we put down our stuff and walked down the dirt road, which met up with a rocky side road/path that led down to a river. On our way down towards the river, Tsunki and Bolivar showed us several medicinal plants and told us their use by the Shuar. (For instance, a tree called "Sangre de Drago" = "Dragon Blood", which when cut "bleeds" a red sap that can be diluted and drank to cure gastritis, diarrhea, and stomach infections, or which can be applied to cuts/scrapes to help the healing and inflammation.) We crossed the river, which was at a level of about our knees, and got to the other side, where there is secondary forestland. We hiked through this area for a while, looking at other plants. Bolivar and his neighbors/family have cleared a good bit of the forest for cultivating crops, a wide variety of things including yucca, chinese potatoes, tomatoes, chili peppers, platanos, and other things that I can't remember because I wasn't familiar with them. While we were walking, Bolivar disappeared for a little while, but we knew he was nearby because we heard the loud hacking sound of a machete against wood. He was busy cutting down a palm tree (and then another) to harvest the "heart of palm" vegetable from the top portion of the tree to eat. It was crazy to see these huge trees falling, and we were really uncomfortable with the idea that he was cutting them down just so we could try the heart of palm (which actually we had tried before). We came to realize over our time with Tsunki and Bolivar that they don't really have a conservation mentality; rather they act in accordance with the belief that it's their forest and it's there to use.

On the way back, we swam in the river. It was delightfully chilly. I really love swimming in cold freshwater. It's always hard to get in at first, but once you take the plunge, it is so refreshing and invigorating.

It was almost dark when we got back to the house. Leslie and I changed out of our wet clothes, then went to the kitchen area to help Bolivar's wife prepare the dinner. She was hacking away at a chicken, putting the chicken pieces into a pot. We helped her to cut tomatoes and onions to add with it, which we then put over the large fire to create a sort of stew. We were told that Shuar women are in charge of cooking and the men don't help. Nonetheless, as we were cutting the onions and shedding tears because of it, Tsunki came over and told us to splash water on our forearms, up to the inner elbow crease, as a trick to not cry when you cut onions. It worked for me, but not for Les. :) (Try it next time you cut onions and let me know if it works for you!) Then we cut up the heart of palm into little shreds, added onion and salt, and wrapped it up in large (palm?) leaves to put over the fire. Bolivar's wife already had a large pot of water boiling to make rice. We sat around the fire as everything cooked, sleepy from the day and eyes tired from the smoky room (talk about indoor air pollution, yikes). But the dinner was delicious. And it was followed up by tea called "hierba de Luisa" - Luisa's herbal tea - which when supplemented by sugar tasted a lot like Fruit Loops.

Then we headed to bed, Leslie and I on one of the wooden beds, Jesse's dad on the other, and Jesse in a sweet camping hammock that we tied from two of the pillars in the hut. The bed was really hard, but we managed, and couldn't complain because Tsunki, Bolivar, and his wife and son slept on the floor around us. We were all awaken early by the loud screeches of a parrot right outside the hut and the persistent cockle-doodle-doos of Bolivar's roosters.

On day 2, we had breakfast and leftover hierba de Luisa tea, then headed off to another jungle area. A taxi dropped us off at an area where we walked through a Shuar village and then hiked through lots of mud and then jungle until we got to a little clearing with a waterfall a short walk away. While walking through the village, we stopped at one of the homes and asked to borrow a pot and plates that we then carried along. When we got up to the campsite, we set up everything and then went for a swim in the waterfall. Again, this was my favorite part of the day. The water was c-o-l-d, but soooo nice. As soon as we got back to the campsite, it started raining really hard, and didn't stop until the next morning. Because it was already so muddy, we spent the afternoon huddled under leaning shelters that had been constructed there, talking and watching our fire that only stayed going because of the large log put over the little flame burning underneath. When it stopped raining so hard, it was getting dark, and we put on a large pot of water to boil spaghetti. We all stood around the fire and talked about the US, Ecuador, and Shuar traditions. When the spaghetti was ready, we ate it with salt and ketchup. Then, in darkness except for the fire, Bolivar told us a few Shuar stories, one which explained the fate of the man-eating monster that lived in a cave. The conversation continued, but I sat with my eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep. That night it rained a lot. I slept very well in the hammock, guarded by a rain cover. Leslie slept in one tent, Jesse and his dad in another, and Bolivar and Tsunki under the shelters.

The next morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn to pack up camp and hike back out to the road, where we picked up a bus to take us a 45 minute drive down the road. We arrived in another village, where we stopped to have breakfast, and then we hiked up the road and over a small mountain and down to a little area next to a river, occupied by a Shuar shaman (healer) and his family of two wives and countless children. Polygamy is allowed in Shuar tradition, and Tsunki explained that it always works best when the wives are sisters because then there is less conflict. I'm not sure if these wives were sisters, but there didn't seem to be any conflict. When we first got there, we sat around for a little while, while Tsunki, Bolivar and the shaman chatted in Shuar. We were served chicha, the traditional Shuar beverage. It was...interesting, and as we drank it, I tried not to think about how it is made: the Shuar ladies chew yucca/platano (whichever type of chicha it is) and then let it ferment in the sun for about five hours. Then they add a bit of water, and vois-la, you have chicha. I guess it kind of tasted like fermented juice, but it was chunky, and smelled like farm. Then, we took a carved canoe across the river to the primary forest jungle there, where we hiked around a bunch. We saw lots more types of trees and flower and medicinal plants. Oh yeah, and we also each ate a little black crunchy bug that lived inside of a palm plant. That night we swam in the river - a lot more quickly and less enjoyably, as it was already getting dark and thus was quittte chilly. That night we ate fresh fish, and talked to the shaman to have our questions answered about his life and practice. We tasted the famed "ayauasca", a traditional Shuar drink that when imbibed causes crazy hallucinations and vomiting. It's sometimes used to cure sickness, sometimes to see what you hallucinate as a way to see inside yourself, and always during festivals. But as we talked to the shaman, it seemed like he prescribes the ayauasca treatment for almost every ailment. We just tried a little drop of it, not enough to cause any effects, but enough to taste its bitterness. Jesse and his dad went to watch the Shuar men set a fish net in the river, and Leslie and I stayed in the candlelight chatting. That night we slept in a large structure with six of the bamboo slat beds, which is where visitors to the Shaman sleep when they come to be treated.

In the morning we had breakfast - eggs, papa china (chinese potatoes) and a piece of sweet platano - and then had a little more time at the shaman's house before we had to hike back out and head to the airport. We spent the time having a little concert with Shuar instruments and then practicing shooting a Shuar blow gun. The concert was fun - they had two flutes, a mouth harp, a large goofy hand-carved violin, a drum, and a turtle shell that squeaked when you rubbed it right. The Shaman sang as we all attempted to make noises with our instruments, which was ridiculousy noisy, slightly musical, and very hilarious. Then we got to shoot the blow gun. We set up a little target - two small platanos stuck onto a 4ft stake in the ground - that we tried to shoot the little pointed sticks at through the blow gun. After several tries (and for Leslie and me, moving the "stand here" line up a little closer to the target), we all successfully hit the platanos. Then it was time to go.

It was a cool trip overall - definitely felt like a more realistic look at what jungle life is like for local people than what we experienced in our first jungle trip. It was especially interesting to see the practices in action of the indigenous people that are causing the deforestation and environmental problems that I learn about in my classes. But it is so easy to see that they do these things because of their impoverished situations, which is worsened as they face pressures from outside civilization and the contemporary need to have modern currency. The emphasis of the Yacahana Foundation (the place where we went last time) is to empower/educate the indigenous people so that they can survive in ways that don't compromise the environment and therefore their future wellbeing. After this trip experience with the Shuar, it's easy to see why this is so necessary.

Photos coming soon; we took all of the photos on Jesse's camera and I gotta get them from him. Then I'll post them, so check back!

Also, I must give credit of this post's title to my mom, master punster.

When the sun sets on Quito

The past two nights, I have been walking outside to pleasantly stumble upon a beautiful sunset. Let me tell you, sunsets are different in Quito. They aren’t your typical, picturesque sunset affairs – they’re unusually different. Perhaps it’s because at 9300 ft, high in the Andes, we seem to be above the setting sun. I enjoy sunsets here in the city more. They are so unusual and distinct compared to what I’ve seen before.

(I don’t have pictures to go along with my explanation, since my bearing witness to this spectacle has always been an impromptu matter. So my words will have to do.)

Imagine you’re walking along a busy city street, one not quite jammed with traffic, but quite busy with the rush-hour flow of buses, taxis and the many city drivers. Suddenly—and it does seem to happen very suddenly—you realize that in every direction above the Ecuadorian cityscape, a sunset is occurring. A panorama sunset, 360 degrees; every way you look, the sky has transformed into a farewell ode to daylight. In the west, there’s the most color, of course – a milky reddish orange backlit by the setting sun. To the left and to the right, large clouds really high in the sky, yet which seem to be just out of reach, are glowing with a brilliant gold outline. The sight of a huge, distinguished, backlit cloud so high up there is really strange. I’ve never seen a sunset take place at such heights. In the east, a strand of purplish clouds dash the darkening sky, as if the sky’s afterthought.

I had to stop in the sidewalk and slowly do a 360 to take it all in.

That’s a Quito sunset.