I could not stop smiling as I followed Samira along the trail up to EcoMinga’s Cerro Candelaria reserve. The morning was beautiful, one of the increasingly more common days with sun as the season changes from drizzly, cold winter to radiant, lively summer on the equator. But as we hiked further from the village, it began to pour, soaking our hair and clothes until they clung heavily to our faces and bodies. Regardless, we continued. Samira looked back at me, “Are you cold?” I shrugged and shook my head. A little rain could not change the freedom blossoming in my chest as we marveled at the trickling waterfalls crossing the trail and the view of the endless forest rising out of the rushing Río Chinchin. Not to mention, I had made a new best friend.
I met Samira at the second workshop I held for those applying to be local guides. She introduced herself as student at a university in Puyó, a larger city east of El Placer, studying forest engineering. I later found out that this will lead her into a career encouraging communities in the Amazon to live more sustainably and avoid destroying the old-growth forest. I edited her motivational letter, which was one of the most well-written I may add, and upon returning it asked if she wanted to collaborate on my projects with Quinde Warmi. She responded with an enthusiastic affirmation and so began our essential partnership and treasured friendship.
Before my next meeting with the mamas, I reviewed my project ideas with Samira along with some of the critical strengths and weaknesses I had discovered in the previous weeks. She was quiet, at first, occasionally asking questions and sharing her opinion. As conversation evolved from Quinde Warmi to our families, friends, and the difference and similarities between our cultural upbringings, she opened up, often sharing a smile that crinkles her eyes, fills her cheekbones, and radiates light. There are few days that pass when we don't spend time together.
Her involvement with the mamas has also achieved my goal of including younger women in my work with the community. One evening after laughing and talking outside la cancha, she walked with me to my house. Before we hugged goodbye, she told me that she would like to be part of Quinde Warmi, continuing the projects we’re starting now when I leave, staying in contact with me, and inspiring the other women to culturally shift the community into a more sustainable livelihood. Yes! Yes! My head and heart jumped up and down ecstatically. I told her that I’d love to connect her to Javier Robayo, my other contacts at EcoMinga, and the World Wildlife Fund. Finally, I had someone in my corner.
About two weeks after the first Quinde Warmi meeting, I led our second one. We trickled into Ligia’s cozy living room, squishing onto the various burgundy couches and loveseats as the rain fell vigorously, cacophonous on the metal porch just outside. I carefully removed my soaked rain jacket and placed it over the arm of the chair. Ligia sat next to me and pulled her one-year-old granddaughter giggling through her swollen cheeks onto her lap. Fifteen or so minutes later, she turned to me to begin the meeting.
“Good evening everyone,” I started, hoping my plan would be meaningful. “I have a few agenda items for this evening, but first would like to start with a discussion around each of your thoughts about the objective and goals for Quinde Warmi.”
They nodded their heads and decided to add comments one by one. I turned to Piedad, one of the founders of the organization. “To me, Quinde Warmi serves to unite us, provide another means of income where we work the most: in the house and kitchen, and conserve the biodiversity to support sustainable tourism.” They all muttered their agreement. As we went around, I heard re-iterated thoughts on maintaining unity among the women and a desire to be more widely known in the area. I was surprised. Unity seems obvious, they are an organization, but solidarity and working together is not just an aspect, it is their priority. I have experience with a handful of different non-profits, and never once have I heard the consensus of we strive to act in harmony. Their care for the wellbeing and success of one another is a luminous connection that robustly supports their empowerment.
One of the projects we took on from that meeting is creating large, reusable bags with their colorful hummingbird logo. Jesus, Piedad’s spouse and former park guard for EcoMinga, suggested the project to me one morning we went birdwatching. Yes, I agreed to birdwatch. This occurred within the first week and I was eager to use any excuse to spend time in the forest, even birdwatching. As we were waiting for some blue-headed or yellow-tailed tanager to dine on the bunch of plantains we hung up in a nearby tree, he asked me about plastic bags.
“Are plastic bags banned in the U.S.?” I shook my head no, explaining the variety in each state, county, or municipality with this law.
“We use so many plastic bags here.”
I nodded with ferocity. Every time I shop with Rina, I am horrified. They have plastic bags for small items like one apple or a pack of pencils that could easily be combined with a larger existing bag of items or carried without one. At the marketplace, strawberries, grapes, and mandarins already are packaged in a collective plastic bag and then the store owner will put them in another one for the buyer.
“It could be a good project for the mamas.” We both stared at the plantains where the birds were not arriving. “You could teach them to shop with an alternative.”
I had not considered addressing this grandiose issue out of concern for pushing my Western habits on their culture, rather choosing to shove down the wave of nausea that accompanies the sight of our 20 plastic bags flapping in the back of the truck every Sunday. With Jesus’s suggestion, however, I suddenly remembered the power I have to make a difference just by shifting perspectives. A few days later, my host family took me to see Puyó, just outside of the Amazon. We stopped at a grocery store to pick up bottled water—courtesy of my weak stomach— and a few snacks. As we waited outside for Fredy, my host dad, to pay, I bent down and whispered to Shuber.
“Please go tell your dad not to take any plastic bags.”
He looked up at me confused, “But, por qué?”
I smiled down and replied, “Because they are horrible for the environment. Please!”
He considered it for a moment and then ran to tell Fredy. A few moments later, I helped carry our nut packs, bottles, and chip bags out of the store, without bags.
“Why not any bags?” Rina probed Fredy as she stored a few items in her purse.
“Because they harm the environment,” He responded easily. My heart swelled with pride. It was a small win, but it was a win for the earth.
Reusable bags are not widely and cheaply sold here. At the next meeting, I proposed a reusable bag project. I suggested that Rina give a portion of the income she makes from my housing and meals to the organization to purchase reusable bags for the women to use while shopping instead of plastic bags. The bags would have the Quinde Warmi logo screen printed on the front and could eventually make more to sell to tourists as a form of funding. I also suggested that my friends and family may be interested in donating for a few bags (I’m looking at you all!). Rina has agreed to give $6 a day from my homestay to the organization and others agreed to give a portion of future income from homestays for Quinde Warmi’s financial sustainability, as well. At the moment, the bags are in the process of being sewn and screen-printed. I’m proud of our ability to bring this idea into tangible fruition, thrilled to see how they turn out, and exuberant about our reduced impact on the earth.
Our hummingbird project has had success, as well. After the first few visits, I was not hopeful of seeing many hummingbirds or that they would ever arrive. After about ten days, they began to arrive with more frequency, chirping hurriedly as they approached the feeders and flitting off only seconds later. The mamas are enamored with them. I visit the cabana to change the water every 2 days with a different señora. After carefully replacing the feeders, each watches with distinct focus, waiting for the iridescent birds, no larger than my thumb, to arrive. A few days ago, we hung half of the feeders closer to the cabana in hopes of capturing clearer and closer photos. As I cleaned the feeders, one zipped past me, inches from my face, and paused on the nearby wooden handrail. It’s feathers shined brilliantly green and purple, and it waited, impatiently, for more food. I laughed and worked quickly to re-hang them; I was happy they had recognized our efforts.
Through these projects and collaborating with Samira, I’ve begun to recognize my more distinct role in supporting Quinde Warmi and others in El Placer. There are a variety of endeavors to shift the community toward ecotourism and a more sustainable existence, but no one uniting them to realize tangible change. Along with Samira, I aspire to connect these efforts through my leadership and organization to build a path forward toward a higher standard of living for the people and harmony with the cloud forest.