I ran my fingers along the rough root which stood firmly at chest level before snaking underground. I closed my eyes and felt the soft moss and woody bumps beneath my fingertips. The prominent ceibo spanned outward like a green umbrella above me and the rest of the Amazon rainforest. The Achuar call him the grandfather tree. I inhaled an abundance of oxygen from the thick plantlife that surrounded us. We stood tucked into a shelter the ceibo’s roots provided listening to Chikuish, our local Achuar guide. He explained that for the Achuar, the indigenous people of this Amazonian region, the ceibo encompasses one of the many Arutam, or spirits of the forest. He spoke quietly, but sincerely as he explained that his people visit the ceibo for wisdom. He told us that this was our opportunity to request permission for safe passage in the Amazon and any guidance from the elder ceibo.
I stepped away from our small group and entered a different shelter walled by the protecting roots and gently placed my hands on one, bowing my head. My breath quieted and the incessant sounds of the rainforest filled my ears: the hum of cicadas and 2 million unique insect species, sporadic cacique songs, and the low growl of nearby howler monkeys. I turned my attention to the ceibo and requested permission to be here. I expressed my trust in and respect for Arutam in return for greater clarity and truth in my path ahead. A breeze brushed through the expansive branches of the ceibo and the vines hanging heavily from them sending a collection of yellow leaves swirling to my feet. I smiled, then whispered, “Thank you,” to his immense root and returned to our small group.
From this moment, the week spent at Kapawi Ecolodge provided an unforgettable experience with immense clarity, support, and a unique cosmovision that has changed my approach to this project and life.
I arrived on a Friday after disembarking from a 6-person plane on a muddy, narrow runway cut into the middle of the Amazon Rainforest. After a deep exhalation of relief and gratitude to the universe for my safe arrival, we met our bags and some of the Kapawi staff at a waiting canoe. Kapawi Ecolodge is located a few hours from the Peruvian border in the Achuar Nation territory of the Ecuadorian Amazon. There are no roads—and never should be—so, communities and Kapawi travel by motorized canoe through the intricate network of waterways.
We boarded and took our seats on wooden benches beneath a green-tarped roof to protect from the quintessential jungle downpour and the brutal equatorial sun. At that moment, we were lucky to have the latter. We sped off quickly, the wind cooling the thick heat and tangling my humidity-inspired hair. About ten minutes into the boat ride, we suddenly stopped as Chiquish and Ricardo, our local Ecuadorian guide, pointed excitedly to a few ripples in the milky brown water. “A dolphin!” they whispered enthusiastically and the boat driver cut the engine. We floated in silence for a few moments before a snout followed by a pink flipper broke the stillness. Oohs and aahs filled the canoe as we waited poised for the dolphin to re-surface. I could not believe our luck. Although I had been into the depths of the Amazon before I never had the chance to see dolphins. Pink river dolphins are endangered and therefore, difficult to observe, but we learned that at Kapawi Ecolodge, they are a consistent part of the experience. This may be due to the Achuar’s belief about the dolphins. The pink river dolphins encompass Arutam and the Achuar consider it bad luck to kill them; therefore, the Achuar have never hunted the dolphins and their local population has thrived.
After catching a few more glimpses of the dolphins coming up for air, we continued on to the lodge. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at a wooden dock obscured by the dense foliage where two men with geometric face paint and traditional feather crowns awaited our arrival. After getting out of the boat, we followed them down the wooden pathways through the lodge compound to an open space with long rustic benches and a view of a lagoon. The lodge seemed to be entwined with the rainforest. Individual or shared cabins extend over the lagoon connected by elevated walkways. Along the trails, I found neon orange fungi sprouting up just after it rained or many half-foot long geckos at night. All structures were made in the Achuar architectural style with wooden walls and woven palm leaves for the roof. The pattern and texture of each building was an intricate piece of art. When I met Juan Carlos, the Fundacion Pachamama consultant for Kapawi, he told me that the communities which own Kapawi Ecolodge gathered materials and constructed the compound from the ground up. The initiative is an entirely local endeavor.
Over the weekend, I became close with the local staff at Kapawi. There is only one woman who currently works for the organization, but the rest of the staff were kind and open to sharing about their unique culture. Along with two other tourists visiting for the weekend, I spent time with the guides and participated in the various activities Kapawi offers. Although I don’t love to birdwatch (this is an understatement) I joined the group at 6:30 nearly every morning to observe the vibrant Amazonian birds from the canoe. I did learn to identify more species from previous trips which made the experience more enjoyable, but in actuality I joined for the chance of monkey-sightings and any other large mammal. Most mornings, we did find a few troupes of monkeys. Typically, we would see red howler monkeys curled up at the tops of Cecropia trees, trying to get a few more hours of shut-eye. We also were able to find a few tamarin and dusky titi monkeys swinging between branches in their search for breakfast.
We also had the opportunity to get to know the wildlife more closely, from a kayak. During a few afternoons, we pulled a few kayaks into the nearby river, the Capahuari and paddled downstream. I basked in the plunk of each paddle gently slicing into the water. I often steered my kayak partner and myself closer to the vines and trees that hung off the bank to examine leaf patterns, roots, and sweet-smelling flowers. When we were just around the bend from the lodge, Ricardo encouraged us to ditch the kayaks and jump into the gentle pull of the river. Without a second thought, I tucked my paddle into the kayak with Chikuish and ungracefully splashed into the water. The coolness of it soothed my hot sticky skin from the thick Amazonian humidity. I bobbed toward Ricardo and Frederico, the other tourist who took the leap. With our heads just clearing the water, I tried not to think about the variety of venomous and sharp-toothed organisms which call the Kapawari River home, but rather the incredulity that comes with swimming amid the world’s largest rainforest.
After a weekend full of my favorite jungle activities, on Monday we decided to begin community visits and interviews. Kapawi Ecolodge is owned by three Achuar communities, Kapawi, Kusutkau and Sucua, although some employees are from other communities near the lodge. For this site visit, I hoped to conduct a few interviews with Kapawi Ecolodge staff and group interviews with a few women in three or four communities. On Monday morning, Chikuish, Ricardo, and I set out for Kapawi, Chikuish’s home community.
After a 20-minute canoe ride, we disembarked in front of the community’s school, currently vacant because of summer vacation. The community spanned out on flat dark dirt bordered by the jungle. Every building save the school and medical center represented Achuar architecture and small children ran barefoot outside their homes. We followed Chikuish to one part of a home without walls, just the braided palm leaves for a roof and found a colleague from the lodge laying in a hammock. His wife sat next to him on a wooden stool. Chikuish greeted them in Achuar and asked permission for me to interview the young woman. When they agreed, Chikuish and I gathered on wooden benches near her.. Her long silky hair was tucked into a messy bun on top of her head. Her cheekbones were bold and broad pointing to full lips. She was objectively stunning. Her young child ran around with a plastic toy truck calling to her for attention until Ricardo promised to play with him. Before beginning the interview, she filled handmade clay bowls with chicha and passed one to each of us. Chicha is a type of drink that many indigenous nations throughout western South America consume in different forms. For the Achuar, the women chew yuca, a hardy tuber, then add water and allow it to ferment for a few days before it is ready. The taste is sweet and resembles kombucha but with a higher IBV, so you can actually become drunk from drinking a lot. The Achuar do drink chicha a lot and it is always offered to visitors upon arrival. That being said, through the interview process, we drank a lot of chicha.
Eventually, the young woman sat adjacent to Chikuish and I began the interview. Many Achuar women don’t speak or understand as much Spanish as the men do, so they preferred to do the interview with Chikuish serving as a translator between Spanish and Achuar. I set my phone in between the three of us and began to record. The interviews often consisted of me prompting a question in Spanish, Chikuish translating it to Achuar, the women (or just one woman in this case) responding in Achuar for Chikuish to translate back to me. This seems complicated, but in reality, the interviews ran smoothly thanks to Chikuish.
After we finished up the last interview for the morning, we strolled back through the community to the pickup spot for the canoe. It had not yet arrived so we sat along the wooden steps of the school.
“That went much better than I thought,” Ricardo exclaimed, “the women actually talked!” Chikuish nodded vigorously in agreement. I laughed. I believed that the women would be reserved, as well, especially to an outsider. With a translator and honest questions about their experience, however, the women did share their thoughts and opinions. Many of them believed that they were entirely capable of working in tourism and doing what the men do. Although, their greatest barrier is their culture which requires married women to care for their husbands and homes. They also shared the need for more education around tourism, local guiding, and gastronomy so they may have the skillset to expand tourism in their communities. Yet by solely focusing on the women and providing them space to share their thoughts, I taught others involved in the interview process that the women are valuable and have important information to share if only we are open to listen.
The women from the ecolodge’s communities not only shared their opinions, but asked me difficult questions, as well. After each interview for every site I have visited, I leave space for the interviewee to ask me any questions. In other visits, I have received more clarifying questions regarding my project or none at all. My experience with Kapawi Ecolodge interviews has been the first in which I have been asked difficult questions in return. After the first interview in the community of Kapawi, the young woman asked me unabashedly to share the barriers that I have overcome as a woman in my own country. As I responded, I realized that many of the barriers I have faced as a young woman both in Ecuador and the U.S. are similar to those of the women shared here. The most significant difference is that I have had role models and allies along the way reminding me that I can do anything I set my mind to and that I should never rely on a partner to provide me with financial resources to survive. Without this encouragement, I may have been more subject to the oppressive ideas of my own culture, let alone Ecuadorian culture. I was grateful for her bold question, although taken aback, and was happy to share my response. Afterward, we exchanged knowing smiles and I felt more connected to the amazing women with whom I have had the opportunity to work. I hope they have realized more of our similarities than differences, too.
Throughout the week, we visited a number of communities and conducted more individual and group interviews in the same manner. In each community, I fell in love with their apparent integration with the jungle. One day, we hiked for approximately 45 minutes deeper into the rainforest with Juan Carlos and his family to visit a neighborhood of a community that would like to expand their involvement in tourism. After a hike beneath a thick canopy with golden-green sunlight filtering through the diverse shapes of leaves, we arrived at a few houses set around a flat soccer court bordered with ornamental flowers. Upon entering one home, we were immediately met with full bowls of chicha and the Achuar men conversed vigorously in a traditional greeting. We spent the day visiting the nearby river shrouded in shadows from surrounding Araceae shrubs and looming canopy, then indulged in fresh coconut cut from the short trees grown around the community. For lunch, the women served various forms of heart-of-palm with boiled yuca and sweet plantain on a ridged plantain leaf. Without silverware, we scooped the traditional meal into our awaiting mouths and sucked on our fingers when finished. No plastic. Nothing that could not be returned to the earth.
I learned more about the Achuar’s relationship with nature and tourism in an extensive conversation with Chikuish. The Achuar people have only had contact with non-indigenous culture since the mid-20th century, so many middle-aged individuals, like Chikuish, and the elders recall the transformation of their culture and norms due to outside influence. He had mentioned to me that in many cases, outside influence has been positive in bringing life-saving medicine and tourism. Through Kapawi Ecolodge, the Achuar have preserved important aspects of their culture such as their traditional greetings, clothing, and stories passed on from their elders. He told me that the questions other tourists and I ask about his culture causes him to reflect on its importance and motivates him to save and share more of it.
As for conservation, the Achuar have mitigated threats to their forest by relying on tourism. A few years ago, the Achuar were approached to cut down balsa, a type of tropical tree effective for construction, and some participated in logging. Many communities realized quickly, however, that cutting down trees would impact their tourism services, so they banded together to fight the deforestation. The income from tourism activities and continued motivation to grow those activities ensures that the nearby ecosystem is protected. The small income tourism provides also helps families afford food and clothes, so they don’t need to rely entirely on the jungle.
Outside influence, however, has also brought some inherently negative aspects, especially regarding waste. Chikuish told me that he refuses to buy unnecessary items that cannot be returned to the earth. Specifically, he gave me the example of buying a speaker to play music. He told me that it would disrupt the peace and music of the rainforest and then, he turned to me and asked, “What am I to do with it when it no longer works?” I nodded in wholehearted agreement.
And with that question, I grasped everything that Western society has lost. We all may see indigenous lifestyles and notice what they lack like air conditioning, wooden floors, and fashionable clothing. But through their lifestyles, we also fail to see what we lack and they have: an intrinsic connection to the natural world. As we pump out more carbon dioxide, dump barely-used furniture and unwanted electronics, and deforest more of our wild spaces to satiate an insatiable appetite for more, we are harming ourselves. We perpetuate a sterile perspective toward our environment, believing that we are separate from the earth.
The Achuar, like many rural communities, are at a pivotal point in development in which they may choose to accept the positive elements of modern-day culture and reject the negative. For us, it is well past time to listen to what the Achuar have to teach us. By spending time at Kapawi Ecolodge, I was reminded that the rainforest and all other wild spaces are not inanimate objects, but breathing beings just like we are. This cosmovision is ours to reclaim by looking to our mountains and our forests to guide us in our individual lives and this difficult time for humanity. We can learn to repair what we have broken by observing the intimate relationships in nature and with her people. We may begin to see our environment as human and treat her that way. Through these changes, we may re-grow our lost connection with pachamama. By healing and nurturing her, we may heal and nurture ourselves.