Perched atop a mountain in the northwestern, high altitude cloud forest is a community of about 200 people called Yunguilla. It appears at first, as a figure of the imagination: the moist clouds drifting over the ridgeline to reveal the wood and red brick houses then quickly shroud them. Without the sign announcing “Community-tourism Yunguilla”, you would question whether the community was ever there.
The green-striped taxi truck drove us past this sign and down a winding paved road to the community store. We arrived just in time for the typical Ecuadorian lunch hour, in which most businesses lock their doors for an hour or two to enjoy a home-cooked soup followed by a second course of chicken and rice with their family. The local store was no different. So, we hauled our backpacks filled with warm layers and rubber boots for the next ten days out of the truck and under the awning of the store to wait. Quietly, the forest began to rain.
The previous communities I analyzed had minimal to a few steps towards linking conservation with local development, let alone the involvement of women. This left me with a sense of hopelessness that cultural challenges would make it impossible to establish a community-led ecotourism organization. I needed to visit a community with a fully-formed and functioning initiative to determine how they overcame such strong cultural barriers.
For many sustainable development experts, Yunguilla serves as an apt model having established a community-based tourism corporation which grew a local economy and led to expansive reforestation. The organization was established 23 years ago providing opportunities to overcome the many challenges often faced by rural Ecuadorian communities: the lack of environmental education, equal value of women in the corporation, and the vision of a profitable sustainable business. I believed that the organization would recommend some strategies to address the difficulties other communities face in getting an ecotourism initiative off the ground—and empowering local women through the process.
I had visited Yunguilla before on a three-day trip with my study abroad program in 2019. I remembered the cold constant drizzle of this high altitude rainforest reflecting the deep loneliness I felt being distant from my country, community, and culture at that moment in my abroad experience. It was not far from the current state of my mind about this Fulbright project: discouraged and adrift. Self-doubt riddled my thoughts about my purpose for this project, my methods (or lack thereof), and my ability to carry them out. It was only exacerbated by the bleak reality of the previous communities. How could I find the inspiration from Yunguilla to persist with this project?
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A young woman with long black hair tied into a loose bun emerged from the fog. She introduced herself as Lizbeth, the tourism coordinator for Yunguilla with whom I had first spoken and organized my visit. She led us back up the winding road and turned off to the wooden, two-story hostel and just before it, the cozy, two-desk office. After showing us our rustic room options, she accompanied us to the restaurant with a panoramic view of the rising mountains and pointed volcanoes of Northern Ecuador. It was this view that many quiteños visit Yunguilla on weekends to escape the chaos of the capital and soak in montane tranquility.
After a plethoric lunch of spinach soup and lasagna, we joined Lizbeth in the artisanal microfactory—one of the three microbusinesses in Yunguilla which produces trinkets, t-shirts, and other commemorative items unique to Yunguilla. The other two microfactories produce dairy products (cheese and yogurt) and jam from local fruits. Later in the week, we assisted the women running these factories with stirring and forming round, salty queso fresco, for sale in Quito.
In the artisanal microfactory, we finished and cleaned up some of the art projects the earlier group of high school students from Toronto had started. While tracing Yunguilla’s logo onto a wooden magnet, I asked her about her story with the community. She shared willingly using her own opportunity as the tourism coordinator and her sister’s position, the accountant for the corporation, as examples. She spoke softly and sometimes undermined her beliefs with comments that older community members would be better equipped to answer my questions. I reassured her that I wanted to hear her voice now and that I would eventually hear the story from others who may have lived it. She cast her gaze downward and smiled shyly in agreement.
Lizbeth’s meek self-confidence was something I also noticed with young women in other communities. In interviews and otherwise, they expressed their inability to explain their community well or to take action about a problem they had identified. Oftentimes, they portrayed the question (without asking it): Why would you want to talk to me? What value do my thoughts have?
One evening, I joined Lizbeth and the projects’ manager (and key founding member of Yunguilla), German, in the office. Lizbeth had turned on the space heater and I snuggled my legs against it, grateful for a respite from the damp cold. German and Lizbeth were carrying on a conversation which I tuned out to focus on documenting and reviewing previous interview responses. Lizbeth sighed heavily and German laughed, pulling me into the conversation. He explained that the current group of Canadian students and their teachers were proving to be difficult. No one in the group spoke Spanish which created substantial barriers between host families and the students. He chuckled again and nodded toward Lizbeth.
“She just graduated with a degree in tourism management, so she would be well-prepared for her current position. But this is one of the many experiences that classes just can’t prepare you for.”
Lizbeth pressed her lips together and tucked her side-swept bangs behind her ears. She felt she blundered in the face of this challenge.
A few evenings later, she led Yunguilla’s cultural night, a good-bye ceremony for the Canadian group. On the dirt soccer court in front of the community center, she sparked a bonfire and organized her grandfather and uncle to strum a few classic Ecuadorian boleros. Before they began to play, the students and their teachers shared their appreciation—through their group translator— for the authentic host family connections and the welcoming nature of Yunguilla, overall. As the circle drew closer around the blazing fire, the guitarists began to play and fill the frigid night air with vocal harmonies and flamenco strumming. Lizbeth’s shoulders relaxed when I hung my arm around her—the weight of one high-maintenance tour group almost released.
Lizbeth also navigated my logistical nightmare with ease. To capture a holistic image of the community and the impact the corporation has on women and conservation, I requested to spend meals with various families in Yunguilla. I knew I would be able to open deeper conversations over a steaming bowl of locro de papa than formal interviews. Lizbeth grasped my reasoning and arranged for me to have meals at a different family each day or sometimes, each meal. This yielded a high breadth of results especially for my short timeline and I was deeply grateful, knowing the challenge it created for Lizbeth.
During one of my last few days in Yunguilla, I accompanied a group of Ecuadorian students from different ages to one of the few forest trails in the zone. Known as Los Coluncos, the trail was created from the consistent travel of merchants to trade goods between the coast and mountains of Ecuador in pre-Incan times. Single-file on the narrow, cut-out trail, we followed Diana, one of Yunguilla’s local guides, into the cloud forest. Lizbeth wandered behind me as we paused to marvel at cream-colored micro-orchids and thick-skinned, fluorescent orange fruits. She was tired and fighting a virus I had heard swept through the community, her voice gravelly and quieter than usual. Yet, she pushed on, wading through icy streams and climbing up the final slippery muddy stretch into a dirt-packed open lot. The teacher for the Ecuadorian students approached Lizbeth and Diana at the end. Previously on the trip, he told me he and his wife had been bringing groups to Yunguilla for the last 12 years because they realized their quiteño students learned valuable lessons from this sustainable community in the country. I overheard him as he drew them close and said:
“I would trust you two to lead us anywhere. You know the zone better than anyone.”
They exchanged smiles on their weary faces.
Throughout the ten days in Yunguilla, I watched Lizbeth’s interactions with these two student groups and her preparations for those to come. She worked seriously with the goal of leading each trip smoothly and without error. Yet, she approached each as if this would be nearly impossible. But the groups I witnessed had a highly valuable experience, not to mention my own experience due to Lizbeth’s capabilities. She is well-equipped for her position with not only the success of her trips, but supported by German and the rest of the community who have set the wellbeing of the corporation in her hands. Lizbeth is the one who lacks trust in herself.
Despite the apparent cultural differences between Lizbeth and I, her external struggles mirrored mine. She is a young woman grappling with self-confidence in her own abilities hoping to contribute to something so much bigger than herself. And so am I.
I arrived in Yunguilla hopeful for inspiration from the success of the community. And Yunguilla does provide the tangible reality that local sustainable development through ecotourism is possible and does yield dividends for the community. But through Lizbeth, I found the embodiment of empowerment. Her capability has truly inspired me to resolve my self-doubt and persist with this project.
Although Lizbeth may not have the tangible experience, she is dedicated to her success and the success of the organization. She’s a creative problem-solver who uses the techniques and tools she does have or has seen others employ to overcome the obstacles placed in front of her.
This is a critical point. Those of us who are early in our careers do lack experience. It often leads us, especially women, to believe we are unworthy and incapable. But it’s actually the opposite. Due to our lack of experience we have to rely on our innate skills. We have to be scrappy and enlist our creativity to solve problems. In reality, we do have the ability, wit, strength, innovation, and support to achieve success. If only we believe it.
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