resbaloso

It is a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Puyo. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how rainy it was during the week, every Saturday that I´ve been here it has been sunny and nice. I am probably jinxing myself by typing that, because next Saturday is key---as it marks the date of our first visitors from the States and we have lots of plans that require good weather. So, anyway Sunny Saturdays also mean we have to wash our clothes. Did I mention that I really dislike washing clothes. I hated washing clothes when I had a modern washing machine and dryer. Having to wash them by hand, however, just prolongs the pain. I admit I have adjusted to cold water dish washing, showering, etc. here. It really isn´t a big deal at all to me. Really. But I really don´t like to wash clothes by hand. If it were up to me, I would just take them to the laundromat and pay a couple bucks for someone else to wash and dry my clothes. You see, anytime you hang your clothes up, you can´t venture too far, because a rainstorm can blow in at any moment and soak your almost-dry clothes. There was no way any clothes in Puyo dried outside this week, as it rained almost constantly (I am REALLY trying to send some rain to Ohio, I swear!)... and I thought maybe it could be an excuse to take our clothes to the laundry place.... wishful thinking.
Anyhow, my dislike for wash day is compounded by the fact that the act of washing clothes themselves is treacherous. The concrete sidewalk to the wash area is constantly wet and covered in a slimey algae-y mess that is super slippery. Same thing with the stairs up to the roof where we hang our clothes to dry. And sure enough, as I was decending the steps to the roof, I slipped and fell pretty hard on my arse, and really tweaked my sholder, as I tried to catch myself. I was more angry and annoyed than hurt. But I at least used it as an excuse to take a break from laundry duty and let Jer finish the load while I swept and rinsed off the concrete by the stairs in a futile effort to try to clean it...

So, I have to admit it was a little hard to adjust to going to the states and then returning back to Ecuador in less than a week. The reason for the trip was emotionally draining enough, but the transition was tough at times I admit. It is hard to describe to people back home. I can´t tell you how many times I was asked, "So, how´s Ecuador?" I mean, where do I even start? It is not something I can simply summarize in a sentence. My life is totally different here. It is not better or worse than my life in the States. It is just totally different. I wish I knew the words to describe it...but they just aren´t coming to me right now.

But one of the good things about going home (besides seeing my family, totally pigging out on havarti cheese, good wine, and taking extra long hot showers with water pressure) was being able to pilfer jewelry making supplies from Stacey´s EastSide Designs stash. Yesterday I spent all day with a group of Waorani women making jewelry and figuring out ways to adapt some of the designs for use with natural seeds (versus glass seed beads). I felt like I really bonded with some of the women for the first time through this effort. I also had a great conversation and dinner with my counterpart and feel like we are working well together... then I got approval to fly into a Waorani village for a community tourism meeting next week. Am super excited about the prospect of going "adentro" via plane and visiting a more remote village. If it is anything like my last visit, I will have lots to report and reflect on...and the words won´t fail me in describing the experience. Ciao for now.

Other planets and the kindness of strangers

So... I feel like I'm in a time...and space warp. I'm now at my parents farm...a loooong way from Ecuador. I've been helping them clean out Auntie's house and other assorted chores after the funeral. I've also been indulging in all my favorites foods and beverages like Havarti cheese, good coffee, wine that is not from a box, fresh salads and of course Dad's gluten free muffins that he has served to me all warmed up and on a plate. Despite the fatigue of travel and the initial confusion involved with going from Puyo, Ecuador to Gomer, Ohio...I have found myself falling back into the comfortable routine of being at home on the farm. But getting here did have its own adventure story...of course!

So, last Sunday I booked a ticket back home to be with my family. It had been a rough night. My mom had called the night before to tell me the news of Auntie's passing. I was flooded with a million different memories...mixed in with the indecision of whether or not to return home. So I didn't get much sleep. Before walking out the door to walk into town to run some errands, the other Peace Corps volunteer in town called to ask to borrow some cash, because the bank machines were out of cash or out of order or something. I said we could probably spare a couple bucks, but we were actually hoping to get some money out, too, for my trip because there is a $30 exit fee or tax. Thankfully I had taken out $60 a few days before and had most of it left.

So, I took the last San Fransisco bus out of Puyo to Quito. These long haul buses are pretty modern and when you buy your ticket at the bus station (versus just hopping on en route) you get a seat assignment. My ticket said seat 40...which is in the very back row. The back of the bus was packed, but the front was empty, so I decide to take my chances and sit in an empty seat closer to the front area of the bus. But of course, the guy whose seat I was sitting in came along and kicked me out, forcing me to lumber back to the back of the bus to kick some guy out of my seat. It was an awkward process both verbally and physically but I eventually found a seat in the very back row...the bumpiest and most crowded part of the bus for sure. I called my Emergency Contact person and my counterpart to let them know my travel plans, then settled in for the five hour ride. Although I wasn't at a window seat, I was able to get a decent view of the scenery which was no less than stunning. In addition to the beautiful Puyo - Banos waterfall and tunnel route, we got a spectacular sunset and pretty closeup viewing of one of the snowcapped volcanoes (either Chimborazo or Pichincha...I think. I need to consult a map.) The setting sun cast a beautiful pink hue to the snow capping the volcano. The angle of the sun also cast incredible shadows across the deep ridges carved into the sides of the volcano. Everyone on the bus was mesmerized by the scenery.

So, I get to Quito, and catch a cab to the hostal. It is a nice, clean, friendly place that we always stay at. It was $12 including tax. I handed the guy a ten and a five...and of course he doesn't have change. Sliding him the ten, I tell him I had to make some phone calls and wanted to catch part of the basketball game (which the hostal tv channels didn't carry) at Sports Planet, so I'd bring him the two singles I owed him later. I walked to the phone calling place, but it was closed, as was everything else it seemed. I walked to the crazy Americanized Sports Bar, to try to catch the game. I asked the staff if they would look for the game on one of the two dozen large flat screen televisions around the bar. I decided to have one small beer to break my ten and wait while they figured out the channels. ESPN en espanol was showing the Cubs vs. Braves game. I like the Cubs and all, but I really wanted to watch the Cavs in the finals. I get halfay done with my beer and the dude tells me that they don't have the game. So, Sports Planet is really not the cornicopia of sports viewing options that it professes to be. It is really just a place to watch the random sports games of the day, and not to show, oh, let's say the NBA finals. Truly another planet. So, I pay $2.11 for my ber (pretty steep compared to what we pay in Puyo) and head back to the hotel with my change. I give the guy the two bucks, then retire for the evening.

At 3:45 a.m. I get up, pack what little i brought and then went to the lobby to wake up the hostal employee, who was sleeping soundly on the couch. He was clearly not happy to see me. I don't blame him. It was 4 a.m. afterall. He called a couple places to get me a cab...and then charged me $0.85 for the calls. I guess it was his way of punishing me for waking him up. The cabbie who came charged me $4 to get to the airport. I tried to talk him down, but he said that since it was before dawn it was $4. During the day it is $3... So, I get to the aiport and the Continental desk wasn't even open yet. I see the desk for the exit taxes...it says it costs $37.90 to exit. Hum. That's more than I thought it would b. I had dispursed my money in several different places, so I dig out the money from my purse, my pocket and my passport pouch. I add it up. I add it up again. I only had $36.51. I look at the money in my hand with disbelief. Okay, so there's got to be a store I can buy something at with my credit card and maybe get some cash back, right. Wrong. Nothing was open. And that probably wouldn't fly anyway. So I go ask these security guards if there is an ATM in the airport. The one guy was super nice and took me back outside the airport to where there were three bank machines. Whew. There was even one from my bank. I stuck my Ecuadorian-based bank card into the machine...only to be told that my bank was offline. I tried my U.S. bank card. No dice. I tried the other two machines. No dice. Okay, now I was starting to panic. I really don't have enough money to get out of the country!!! I count my money again. I look through my bag for loose change. Nada. By this point, the Continental line has opened and there is a huge line. I decide to just get in line and hope I can sweet talk some naive soul into giving me some money. Yes, I was going to have to panhandle to get out of the country. As I am standing in line, the woman in front of me motions to me and my half empty backpack, and remarks to the woman in front of her, "Look. She's doing it right. She packed light." I took this small opening to explain why...and to mention that I was a Peace Corps volunteer...and my whole sob story about the ATMs in Puyo AND the airport being broken...and that I was a little less than $2 short in paying the exit tax. Without hesitating, she reached into her wallet and handed me a ten. I looked at her outstreched hand, then at her face. "Oh, I could give you some change. I only need two dollar....Oh, this is terribly embarrassing." She would have nothing of it. "Just keep it," she said, "I have a lot of respect for you serving in the Peace Corps. I'm glad people are still doing that." It turns out her daughter is volunteering for an organization in Quito that works with kids and she was there to visit her. We talked the whole time we were in line and again while waiting to board the plane. So, here's a public shoutout of thanks to Andrea from Oregon who took pity in my plight and helped pay my way out of the country.

Once in Houston, I ran into quandry numero dos. I needed to call my brother in law Greg to tell him my flight info so he could pick me up. My Ecuadorian phone of course does not work in the States, so I started to look for a pay phone. Did they even exist anymore now that cellphones are ubiquitous??? I found a bank of phones and had to stop and read the directions on how to use it...since I didn't have much cash, and no calling card, I read the options for collect calls. I dialed the collect number and chose the option to learn how much it would cost. $16 for the first minute! I hung up in disgust. There was NO WAY I would subject Greg and Stacey to that fee. How rediculous!!! I decide to keep panhandling...this time to scam for someone who would let me use their cell phone. I scoped out the waiting area to try to figure out who would be most sympathetic to my plight. Two middle aged ladies were sitting near me chatting, and i waited until a break in their conversation to ask...except they never shut up. They just kept jabbering on about their jobs...so I felt rude iterrupting. No, needed a different target. I saw a young 20-something couple that I pegged as OSU students. I started to go ask them, but they put their ipod headphones in and tuned out the rest of the world. Ok...who now? I spotted this older lady I recognized. But from where? Oh, she was on my flight from Quito. We recognized each other and I asked her where she was from. "Oh, from a really small town in Northwest Ohio," she said meekly. "Really! What town?" I ask. "Oh, it is a little town called Kalida." "You're kidding. I'm headed to Gomer!" (Note: Kalida and Gomer are two super-small towns about 12 minutes apart. I went to Gomer Elementary which is part of the Elida school system. When announcing school closings and delays, the radio announcers would always say, 'Kalida with a K' and 'Elida with an E' so kids like us wouldn't be confused...) It turns out she is a missionary that has lived in Ecuador for 20+ years. And of course, she didn't have a cell phone I could use. by this point, they were boarding the plane. As soon as the guy next to me took his headphones off, I sheepishly asked him, "Is there any chance I could use your phone for a quick 30 second call? My phone doesn't work in the U.S." He said 'sure' and handed it to me.

When we touched down in Columbus, he handed me his phone, saying, "Feel free to use my phone again." I was again blessed by the kindness of strangers.

In memory of Auntie

I read the following tribute to Della M. Davis (1907 - 2007) at her graveside service yesterday in Gomer, Ohio:

I honestly don’t know how many great aunts I have. I know I have a lot. But in my life there has truly only been one truly great aunt…that’s Auntie. But she was more than an aunt. It is a role I have struggled to describe to people that don’t know her or our family—but one that I distilled down to a simple summary of she was much more of a grandmother figure to me…which people seemed to sort of get the idea. Interestingly the Spanish word for Great Aunt is tia abuela. Tia means aunt. Abuela means grandmother. Fitting in many way in this case, because she was both to me…and more.

Auntie was strong. Downright tough, in fact. Fiercely independent. Incredibly generous. She was slight in stature, but big in spirit. And sharp as a tack.

Family was an important part of Auntie’s life. Particularly our family. I know this because a lot of seemingly random people seemed to know a lot about my life (sometimes too much). She loved to talk about our family and I often kept up with other family via Auntie.

I learned from her that family is not defined by the number of children you have. For Auntie, family was the whole tree, not just a few branches. The many nieces, great neices, great great nieces and nephews, cousins, cousins twice removed, etc plus a vast network of friends ages 6-96 are part of that tree too.

Auntie touched a lot of lives. You could tell by the number of cards she received for her birthday, Christmas, or other holidays. She would literally have a stack of cards…and I would often marvel at the number of people that would send her well wishes. I remember one time, she quipped “pretty good, considering most of my friends have long been dead.”

That is one thing you could count on with Auntie. She was brutally honest. She spoke her mind and let you know how she felt. It was sometimes funny; always frank. I found it frankly, refreshing.

When I broached the subject about serving in the Peace Corps, I wasn’t quite sure how she would react. And instead of getting a nonplussed answer like, “Well, that is your decision.” She said, “I think that’s wonderful. You and Jeremy will be wonderful volunteers.” Having her support and encouragement truly meant the world to me. And on some of the toughest days down in Ecuador, I would think about her encouraging words and they would help get me through the day.

In thinking back about some of my fondest memories of Auntie…someone who has been an important part of my life---since I was born really.

Memories of her…
always creatively patching my pants as a kid…
…of making puffy iced sugar cookies…
…Auntie and Unk’s Mini (the Winnebago). Me and my brothers thought it was just soooo cool. We didn’t need to go anywhere, we had just as much fun playing in the Mini in Auntie’s driveway as we would at a campground.

…of her storytelling. Camping tales. Gomer School adventures. Nursing school stories. And one of my personal favorites was her stories about playing basketball. Because envisioning Auntie wearing bloomers and shooting foul shots underhanded, always made me giggle.

More recently, Auntie contributed to my vintage coat collection and addiction. In fact, I blame Aunie for getting me hooked. For, she gave me a bunch of her old coats…including her beautiful long brown leather coat she bought in Mexico…and her bright blue spring raincoat with big buttons and big pockets that was big on style… just not big on me. The sleeves were often a little too short, but I never cared. Every time I wore her coats I got compliments, and I would always reply, “Thanks, My ---95, 96, 97 or however old she was at the time—Auntie gave it to me. It was hers.” My coat collection was a source of mild tension in my marriage, as my coats clogged the small closets in or old house. On more than one occasion I would justify to Jeremy that I couldn’t possibly downsize my coat collection, because the coats are from Auntie. Thankfully, he knew how important she was to me. Anyone who knew me at all knew this.

So when my mom called me in Ecuador to tell me that Auntie had passed, she asked me to write a few words. I of course said yes. …but I felt like I needed to use my own voice. So I came back to pay tribute to this special lady. Someone who was an incredibly important part of my life. Someone who has touched many lives, and many generations.

So even though she is probably wagging her finger down at me right now for coming all this way---because she never wanted anyone to fuss over her--- I had to come. Auntie was too big a part of my life not to come. Family is important to me as it was to her. And so I join with our family to honor her memory and celebrate her long…and truly great life.

What I love about Ecuador

I found myself being a little negative lately...so in trying to stay positive, I decided to compile a list of some things I love (or at least find endearing) about Ecuador:

• Realistically shaped mannequins. No stick straight mannequins where they pin the shirt in the back to make it look like they had 2 ribs removed here. J-Lo booty is all the rage for the mannequin manufacturers. Finally, I feel (almost) in-style.
• Living a low carbon life. We walk everywhere. My 22 minute walk into town each morning helps clear my head. The 22 minute walk home helps me decompress from the day. It is a refreshing change to paying loads of dough for gas and getting stuck in gridlock on 670. And theoretically the walking counteracts some of the eating I do (see below)
• 2 hour lunches. At first I found them annoying. “What the hell am I going to do for the 2 hours while I am locked out of the office?” I have since found plenty to do, and incredibly they sometimes don´t feel like they are long enough. I love lunch (see below).
• Fresh avocados. Jer took me seriously when I said we should have guacamole every day. We average about 5 batches of guacamole per week lately.
• Fresh bread. On our walk to and from town we pass right by El Rey (The King, appropriately enough) bakery where we can buy fresh-baked croissants, whole-wheat rolls and other deeeeelicious breads…for 8 cents each. Totally fresh and totally yummy.
• Chef Boy (ardee) and the Easy Bake oven. My hubby is totally going all out in using our toaster oven. Last night: homemade buscuits and carrot cake. Earlier in the week he made PB & chocolate chip cookie bars. His cooking exploits are not limited to baking... Some of his latest creations include homemade tortillas, refried beans (made from the dried beans, not from a can) super healthy veggie soups, (less healthy, but yummy) omelettes, banana pancakes...
  
  ......anyone see a pattern here?...............

(Ok Kelly, I think this explains where my extra kilos are coming from...but how do I gain and Jer continues to lose??? Not fair!) Well, better keep walking...

catchup

May 31, 2007 (older entry I typed but never posted. Always playing catch up). I am soooooooo confused. Yesterday as I am leaving the AMWAE office, I am told by some of the women that my counterpart called and said that I am supposed to go with her adentro to one of the Waorani communities with her tomorrow (as in today). In a plane. For a few days…but no one knows for sure how many. WHAT!?=???

I had already had a bad day. It started out when the computer I had been working on (my counterpart’s computer) decided that it would be a good time to break. The monitor was totally dark, and it was virtually impossible to read the words on the screen. Both Noemi and I tried to fix it to no avail. We called in a computer guy who she is friends with…and he basically said it is broken. Crappy timing. I felt really bad, because I was the last one who used it and assumed I would be blamed for breaking it. Instead, everyone blamed the power outage. Actually, there HAD been a power outage. There was a huge bang, and then all the power went out yesterday. I didn’t think it was the fault of the power outage, because the computer worked fine after that...but I wasn’t about to argue, as I had no better explanation.

Oh…this reminds me of the story I started to tell, but never finished about another classic blunder of mine… so, the day after I get back from my big trip to Tiwino, I am helping the Waorani women prepare for the Ambassador’s visit. A bunch of us were carrying plastic chairs down from our 3rd story office to the curb, in order to transport via taxi with our friend, Edison (aka “vecino,” which means neighbor, because none of the women can remember his name). On our last trip down, I closed the door behind me, since I was the last one out. As we loaded the chairs into the truck bed, Sylvia freaks out that someone closed the door to the office, which locks automatically…and her purse and her keys were in there. The only keys to the office, her house…even her bedroom. This, of course, is on the heels of Jer accidentally locking himself out while I was gone…and then somehow Jeremy-rigging a board (aka tool to help enter windows) to climb up and jump through the second story window and rip his favorite pair of pants. I told this story to Sylvia and we all had a good laugh…but it didn’t solve the key problem. It turns out, that she is the only person that has a key to the outside door lock…and the individual office lock (because my counterpart evidently didn’t want anyone else to have a copy of the key)… Quite a conundrum that I caused. In the short term it was eclipsed by the mini-crisis in NAWE when we arrived…and the place hadn’t been cleaned, as was promised. The Ambassador was coming…and the place was, well, dirty. There already exists a little tension between AMWAE and NAWE…which I don’t fully understand all the nuances, but I could pick up on the friction…and the Women of AMWAE were none too pleased to have to clean up for NAWE—almost all of which are men… We worked until almost 8 that night getting stuff ready and dealing with the key issue. I felt really horrible about it all, even though there was no way I was to know her stuff was inside the office. She was just worried about the fact that she wouldn’t have access to her bedroom. Her husband unlocked the front door, but he didn’t have a key to the bedroom door. So, that night I had trouble sleeping because I kept fretting about Sylvia being locked out of her bedroom. The next day I asked her what happened. “Oh, it was no problem, my husband just climbed through the window.” Guess that seems to be a popular thing to do these days.



June 5, 2007
So much to process…where do I start?

I am totally fascinated with the concept of raising money to NOT drill in Yasuni National Park, Waorani territory, wherever…to offset the revenues generated by oil extraction.

My suspicions about the influence that oil money has on the Waorani are slowly proving to be accurate. But it turns out to be much more convoluted than that. It is not just oil money…it is money from whatever interest group. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, right? Today is World Environment Day. It was celebrated here in Puyo with the Festival of Water, orchestrated by noneother than the Science King himself. It was an awesome display of creativity, energy and enthusiasm for protecting and conserving water. The kids were absolutely adorable in their crisp uniforms, as they rattled off fascinating factoids about water pollution. Many had entire speeches on environmental protection committed to memory. It was pretty impressive.

So, during lunch I picked up El Comercio, Ecuador’s major newspaper to check out their coverage of World Environment Day. I was impressed with the number of articles dedicated to the theme, actually. Lots of tree planting activities (including a minga involving 1,500 people planting 10,000 trees waaaaaaay up in the paramo---the grassy, high altitude areas) and the release of census data of the population of the Galapagos (19,184 permanent residents…a number that has come under much scrutiny because it doesn’t include the seasonal workers and the impact they have on the fragile ecosystem). The Environment Ministry even took out an entire section of the paper to explain its strategic plan and other major projects it is undertaking. But it was an article in the regular section of the paper that most caught my attention. It has to do with a “bold, audacious” plan by environmentalists to help protect one of the countries biggest and best parks from oil exploration by symbolically “selling” barrels of oil. The “buyer” agrees to keep the oil in the ground, and gets a certificate (a la the adopt-a-rainforest campaigns of the 80s and 90s) of ownership of the barrel of crude that is then kept in the ground. The money raised would be put toward protecting the parks and helping the indigenous populations. This general idea was floated by President Correa earlier this year when he called on the international community to compensate Ecuador for lost oil revenues in exchange for protecting one of the most biodiverse areas of the world…Ecuador’s Amazon basin. The amount of money per year is pretty staggering. But, when you consider that one of the places on the planet that is MOST important to conserve in order to combat global warming is actually most at risk of being exploited for a product that only exacerbates the problem…how can we, as a global community, say “no, sorry Ecuador we can’t help you out.” Go ahead and raze the rainforest for massive oil extraction…and in so doing, kill one of the best natural defenses to global warming we have left… Ohh…I am just so cynical and frustrated right now. I have not been able to discern whether Correa is super serious about this proposal, whether he was just floating a trial balloon, or whether it was pure political posturing. In any case, it is an intriguing proposal to think about nonetheless. I sent a bunch of emails to my enviro contacts to try to find out more. The word on the street is that some groups are trying to connect President Correa with Al Gore. I am hoping to be able to get an invite to that meeting. What better place to have it, than in Yasuni park…

So, according to the paper, this buy a barrel of oil campaign has been put forth by Accion Ecologica. I asked my friend Noemi (who is the accountant for AMWAE) what she thinks or knows about this particular enviro group, and she launched into a fascinating and frustratingly complicated tale about why she didn’t really like them. Most of her angst had to do with the accounting of the funds that were exchanged… Evidently, Accion Ecologica was paying the previous AMWAE president directly (instead making a general support donation to AMWAE, who would then use it for general support purposes, which would include paying the AMWAE President’s salary). At this time, Accion Ecologica was waging a fierce campaign against Petrobras, Brasil’s big state-owned oil company. Interestingly, AMWAE rejected every Petrobras accord that came before them at that time…including an offer to donate land for the AMWAE President, an offer that was supported by the rest of the Waorani women. So, in not so many words, Accion Ecologica´s direct payment to the AMWAE president ensured that AMWAE would unequivocally say no to any contracts, deals or even donations related to Petrobras.

On one hand, it is almost brilliant what Accion Ecologica did. I mean, it seems that they were playing the same game as the oil companies…or the lobbyists in D.C. for that matter. You grease enough palms…

Evidently, the women voters of AMWAE were not too fond of this direct payment to the President setup. This issue turned out to be one of the main reasons the President was not re-elected, launching the accent of the current president, my counterpart. It appears that it is back to business with Petrobras. After all, “how else will the rest of the Waorani eat, or buy clothes, or...live?”

It is truly amazing to think about, that until just a few decades ago, the Waorani were living as semi-nomadic hunter gatherers, using spears and blowguns to hunt in the dense Amazonian rainforests. Or, as the missionary in “Beyond the Gates of Splendor” described it, they were living in the “stone age.”

While other cultures evolved from over the course of many centuries, the Waorani have essentially have had to leap directly into the 21st century, without any Cliff’s Notes. The dramatic changes in their culture (often forced upon them---no thanks in part to the undue influence of evangelical missionaries and oil companies)… have made them unduly reliant, and in some cases totally reliant upon first the missionaries…and now the oil companies.

(please note, that these reflections are solely my own and based upon what I have observed thus far working and learning from the Waorani in Puyo and Tiwino plus what little I have read. I reserve the right to expand and-or modify these thoughts over time, as I undoubtedly will do over the course of my 2 years here).

So…most of the Waorani are dependent upon the oil companies for medical care, education, food, and of course soccer fields…everything, really. It was not the state or the province that constructed the bathrooms in Tiwino; it was Petrobell. The same could be said for just about every other pound of concrete and inch of water line in the town.

I have observed that whenever the Puyo-based Waorani leaders want or need to travel to their communities…they type up a very formal letter to one of the companies which asks for funds for very specific things…like 30 gallons of gas, 100 pounds of rice, etc. to support their trip. It is expensive to go “adentro.” Some communities are accessible by road. Some are accessible only by airplane or canoe. Many trips take multiple hours or many days, depending on which mode of transport is available (including walking). Expensive endeavors, whichever way you go. Someone has to pay. And that someone is usually an oil company. Hell, I think my entire trip to Tiwino and all the food served was compliments of Petrobell.

So, when Petrobras, Petrobell, Repsol, or fill-in-the-blank oil company comes knocking on the Waorani door (the same door that they paid for, in some cases)…what’s a Waorani to do?

I am having a really hard time getting all of this worked out in my brain… on one hand, I feel like, hell yes the oil companies should be pay. Pay big. After all, they make a mint down here. But making them pay the communities has created their own set of problems. Or at least the way it is currently structured. I don’t know what the solution is. There obviously is no simple solution otherwise someone smarter than me would have figured it out by now.

33

33 words on a Rolling Rock bottle and 33 years old today.

I´m riding an emotional roller coaster. I just got back from the post office and was all excited because I got an awesome carepack with lots of candy with a cute note from my dad. I came to the internet cafe to send a thank you note to the ´rents...and hopefully read lots of emails from friends and family. My birthday greetings from my mom had only bad news, however. So I´ve gone from being super happy to supersad to hear that Auntie has fallen again, broken her hip and she is not good...that it is now "only a matter of time." I feel so helpless and frustrated and sad...

I have so much to update on life here, but I have lost all interest in doing so... I think I´ll take a walk.