10.12.11

Fundraising for MAYU - the Fight for Ecuador's Rivers


medicinebleu Films is raising funds to develop a short documentary film on the work of Mr. Matt Terry and his ten year-old non-profit organization, the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute. Matt Terry has devoted his entire existence and all his energy to advocating for the responsible development of Ecuador's water resources. He lives modestly in Ecuador, is respected and appreciated by the local people, and does not rest even to raise much needed funds for the continued fight against unregulated development and destruction of Ecuador's rivers. It is our hope that, with the production of MAYU, our documentary, we will be able to garner new support for Matt and the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute, as this is surely a deserving and worthy cause. 

Ultimately, this film will give viewers the opportunity to see, hear, and experience the unique beauty of Ecuador and its water resources. Simultaneously, the film will spread the word of the ERI’s struggle to an international audience, renewing hope for continued advocacy for local communities, ecosystems, and waterways whose voices are all too often dampened by the roar of industrialism and unregulated development. 

I will continue to contribute to the realization of this project by traveling with the filmmakers through Ecuador and serving as interpreter and translator throughout the journey. To get myself to Ecuador, I need a little help. If you can support me in my effort, please consider giving to my travel fund (see the PayPal widget above this post). If the MAYU project receives its full funding by January 6, and if I receive my travel funding (a sum of $1200) by the same date, we will make this film happen and we will share this story with the world. If MAYU's Kickstarter fundraiser falls short of the $11,000 goal, I will put all donations to my travel fund toward that goal.  If my contribution is not enough to bring the project to fruition, I will return all of my travel fund donations to my supporters immediately.

Please consider supporting MAYU and the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute in the following ways:
· Go to the MAYU's fundraising page on Kickstarter and pledge what you can to help bring the film to fruition.
· Consider helping me fund my way to Ecuador to serve as interpreter and translator for the filmmakers. 
· Pass this letter to people who might be able to contribute to the project fund.
· 'Like' the ERI on Facebook and encourage your friends to do the same.

Thank you for supporting the fight to preserve Ecuador's river resources, the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute, and independent filmmakers like medicinebleu. Please contact me with any questions or comments you might have.

11.7.11

In closing

I'm home now.  In the United States, with Arlo (my handsome canine friend), on San Juan Island, with a head full of questions and ideas and recently formed memories.  

The hardest goodbyes were exchanged with Marcia (the amazing woman who lived upstairs and shared her life and stories and food with me - much like a mother would with her own daughter), Nina (the skittish little dog who lived in my apartment), Cotopaxi (the volcano that looms over Latacunga as both folkloric guardian and impatient enemy), and the lady with the gold tooth who sells 25 cent avocados at the open-air market.  As much as I miss them already, saying goodbye to my Fulbright girls and to the amazing human rights lawyers I've been lucky to know was easier - I'll see them all in the months or years to come.  The goodbyes I shared with my students and colleagues at the Universidad Tecnica de Cotopaxi were trickier - unless I return to Ecuador, it's likely I won't ever see them again.  (That reality is not pleasant.)  Goodbye to the lack of rules and regulations.  Goodbye to the incessant drone of useless car alarms.  Goodbye to the wild alpacas and llamas and the cows that are herded through Latacunga's city streets.  Goodbye to my kids at the rose plantation and good luck to them in all they pursue in the years to come.  Goodbye to Pilsener and Club and their not-as-popular cousin with identical flavor, Brahma.  Goodbye to my 50-lb. bicycle and the dogs who chased me all the months I rode it.  Goodbye to 50 cent pineapples and giant green mandarin oranges and perfect tomatoes.  Goodbye to almuerzos and canelazo and chivas.  Goodbye to bus rides that make my palms sweat and my eyes swell with tears.  Goodbye to warm jungle rivers and the monkeys who provide the soundtrack to kayaking adventures.  Goodbye to kisses on the cheek at every meeting.  Goodbye to weekend hikes to 15,000'.  Goodbye to wretched infamy and hello to precious, elusive anonymity.  Goodbye to strangely fabulous dance parties with endless salsa, bachata, and serious faces.  Goodbye (for now) to the people and places that taught me so very much and presented to me brilliant ideas and weird beauty that I won't soon forget. 
Brown alpaca at Papallacta
White alpaca at Papallacta
Antisana volcano glowing on a perfectly clear final day in Ecuador, as seen from Papallacta hot springs
Shannon helped me pack my apartment on my last day in Latacunga.  Just as a friend I've known my whole life would do, she provided her patience and company as I flailed through the packing process, drinking wine and giggling and recounting reasons why we'll miss Ecuador once we're far away.  I went with her to Quito and over the remaining few days I climbed Ruminhaui (an extinct neighbor volcano of Cotopaxi), wrapped up business in Quito and at the Fulbright office, ate delicious food with Matt Terry and discussed the future of the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute, soaked in the pools at Papallacta, and enjoyed one more exquisite evening with the lawyer girls I've come to love over the last few months.  Then I got on a plane and flew to Seattle.  
Rumnihaui behind the clouds.
New friends from the Embassy on the final scramble to the top of Ruminhaui.
One of the summits of Rumminhaui (15,400')
I was welcomed home with hugs and kisses, several consecutive Panic shows, a trip to the Rockies, a long-overdue reunion with my beloved Arlo, delectable snacks and IPA and Kentucky bourbon, and mosquito bites.

I missed my home (my country) and the people who live here.

I am grateful in so many ways for the opportunity I was given.  Some day soon I hope to head south again and visit Ecuador with new intentions.  But for now, I'll stay right where I am, happy as a clam and in the company of the things and people and dogs that I love.

Thanks to all who supported me in this effort.

Love.

C. Brown
The Tetons as seen from Grand Targhee on July 3rd.
My roommates.  Two nights ago.  San Juan Island.

21.6.11

Southbound (but not for long)

Ceramic tile map with the city in the background.
Shannon, Quito-based Fulbrighter studying urban migration of Afroecuadorians, and I headed south to Cuenca, the country's third-largest city and temporary home to Lindsay, another wonderful Fulbright friend.  Cuenca is settled in an Andean valley near the south of Ecuador, about 8 hours (by bus) from Latacunga.  We flew there on the southbound journey, leaving Quito at 12:15 pm and arriving in Cuenca at 1:00 pm - just in time to share delicious almuerzo with Lindsay and shop for Panama hats.
Cuenca's architecture is unique to that of other cities in the country:  It has impressive churches, in-tact colonial remnants, red tiled roofs, and water throughout (in the form of fountains and rivers).  
One of several famous vendors of the Panama hat (which is, in reality, of Ecuadorian origin).
Cabeza electrica. "Electric Head." (In the "Panama Hat Museum") 
This is the electric head with her hat on.
This is what she looks like with it off.  And that's her other electric scalp on the table next to her.  Weird.
We met up with two lovely ladies from Bozeman (!!!) who met us in Cuenca for the a night of tapas and vino, followed by a day of exploring in Cajas National Park.
High paramo with hundreds of micro-lakes and streams - Cajas National Park, just outside of Cuenca.

Shannon, Lindsay, and Merry scooting down past a little waterfall.
So happy to see this girl in Ecuador - Miss T. Wells.
Merry, Tonya, and Chandra.
After yet another amazing day with amazing girls, the Bozeman team hopped on a Guayaquil-bound bus in order to catch their Galapagos-bound plane in the morning (lucky ducks).  Lindsay, Shannon and I headed back to Cuenca for Pilseners and pizza.  And the next day, after a too-short morning and an exchange of hugs, Shannon and I reluctantly boarded a northbound bus (in the future, we will fly in both directions - the bus option proved to be both terrifying and exhausting) and made it back to Latacunga sometime before midnight.

In eight short days, I will be on yet another airplane, this time heading north: heading home to my puppy and to the northern hemisphere summer.

6.6.11

Una visita a la provincia Bolivar

Chimborazo, the tallest mountain in Ecuador, as seen from the  high paramo (grasslands) en route to Bolivar Province.
This weekend, I traveled with Marcia and Edison (my "Ecuaparents") to Edison's childhood home in Bolivar Province.  After nearly nine months of discussing the potential for this trip, we finally found a weekend when the three of us were available to travel together.  So, at 5:00 a.m. on Saturday, we crawled sleepily into the little white Toyota and Edison drove confidently through the cold, dark morning.  Bolivar Province is small, poor, and seemingly forgotten by the government here.  To get there, we traveled up and over the high paramo (Andean grasslands), circling the flanks of massive Chimborazo Volcano where alpacas and llamas roam and the wind howls at all hours of the day and night.
Paramo.  The small structure in the distance is a choza, a traditional indigenous home.  
The paramo is a fragile and very important part of the Andean ecosystem.  The low shrubs (grama) serve as sponges, collecting the moisture that comes after a frost or from the clouds themselves.  This water then runs off of the high mountains into the rivers down below.  The rest of the cycle is quite obvious: the clean water from the paramo fills the rivers that serve the communities below, and these same rivers flow from both sides of the Andes to the Pacific coast or to the Amazon Basin.

The indigenous residents of the paramo, despite the recent arrival of electricity and "modern" architecture, still use a very efficient, although "primitive," style of house construction.  They build their chozas using tall grass (paja de paramo) and mud (barro) to build small, low-to-the-ground homes that look like simple mounds of earth from any distance.

Milk-hauling mules in Salinas de Guaranda.
Near the highland city of Guaranda lies the important experimental commercial center of Salinas.  Edison explained that a study he co-conducted while working at the Universidad Salesiana in Quito showed that just 25 years ago, the infant mortality rate in Salinas was staggeringly high.  Almost 9 in 10 babies born in Salinas died due to malnutrition or inadequate medical facilities.  A group of Salesian missionaries came to Salinas to build houses, support the population with funds and medical supplies, and, ultimately, to implement an economical model that could sustain the area after the Salesians' departure.  Today, Salinas is famous for its dairy products, chocolate, and pine tree mushrooms.  It is a tiny town, cold and hidden by clouds, but the population has access to potable water, the town is clean, and the people sell their specialty foods to maintain a reasonable quality of living.
Salinas.
Yagui, Edison's hometown.
We arrived in Yagui (which, in Kichwa, means "nose/eye of water" - there was some dispute as to which body part was the correct translation) in time for lunch (chicken soup with chicken salad and rice...man, I love rice).  Edison's mother is fifteen years younger than his father.  His father recently turned 90 years old.  Although he no longer moves the cows, tends the crops of maiz, or hauls plants up and down the mountain, he walks every day, reads anything he can get his hands on, and supports his wife's efforts with smiles and jokes.
Don Jaime and Balto, in Yagui.
Edison's amazing mother and her dairy cows.  The two young ones are only a couple of months old and are twins.  The arrival of two cows was very fortunate, given the cost of livestock in this area.
Edison and Don Jaime on the porch of the Yagui home.  This house is over 110 years old.  Now, only Don Jaime and his wife live there.  Their eleven children visit them often and they refuse to leave the Yagui home, despite the cold nights and hard living.  
The new kitchen in the Yagui home, built ten years ago.  The original kitchen  was (and still is) outside and includes a massive wood-burning stove.  Only recently did this property receive electricity and running water.  
Cuyes - guinea pigs.  These guys will be sold and then consumed as holiday delicacies.
Edison's parents came with us to La Montana, an hour to the east of Yagui, to visit Edison's sister, Carmen.  The descent to Rios Province is fast and steep, and in under an hour the climate and vegetation changes completely.  Although the beaches of Guayaquil are over two hours from Carmen's property, the climate is that of the coast: hot, muggy, and buggy.
Marcia, tentatively crossing a wire bridge over the Rio Potosi,  a half-mile from Carmen's home.
The Rio Potosi with bathers and swimmers.  We spent most of the afternoon here with Edison's family.
On the banks of the Rio Potosi: a local family watches as a gravel truck races by.
This river has been ravaged by aggressive gravel mining on the part of the Ecuadorian Army Corps of Engineers.  Now, in summer, the river is almost completely dry.  Its banks have been widened to the point of irreversibly altering the nature of the river corridor; in effect, killing the river as it was known before.  Carmen's husband, who owns a large agricultural operation nearby, protested the mining operation.  His protests were ignored.  Now, his plantain, cacao, coffee, and corn crops are starved for water and he questions the future of his operation.  Gravel mining operations like this one are so common in Ecuador that the people who bathe, wash clothes, and fish in the rivers have given up protesting.  They don't seem to flinch at the incessant lines of gravel trucks roaring by their homes and swimming holes.
Two of Edison's nephews enjoying a coastal chirimoya fruit on Carmen's husband's farm.
Dry corn stalks.
Recently-planted cacao between rows of dry corn.
A very white white girl digging for papa china, a turnip-like tuber that sells for a lot of money in urban markets.
We spent the night with Carmen and her family.  Seven make-shift beds were set up in her home to accommodate the visitors (over 15 family members...and me).  The next morning, I watched and listened as the women made tortillas for breakfast.  Tortillas (yucca, plantain, corn, or wheat discs filled with cheese and cooked on the stove top) are prepared almost every day on La Montana and served with a cup of ridiculously sweet coffee.  The craft of making tortillas is revered and respected.  And the product is absolutely delectable.

Back on Don Jaime's farm in the highlands, we ate a simple lunch, I went for a long walk while Edison  napped, and eventually we prepared for the long drive home to Latacunga.
Don Jaime and his chickens.
The property of Edison's brother, a mile or so from his childhood home.
Edison, Don Jaime, and Marcia.  This house is inhabited only during cosecha  (harvest). 
Don Jaime.
This is the arbol de las fotos.  Of course, they made me pose for a photo...
...then they asked to pose for one themselves.

This family is huge.  Between Edison's eleven siblings and Marcia's seven, there is no such thing as a "small family gathering."  I felt fortunate to be a part of this one.  

31.5.11

Thirty days left

Cotopaxi over Latacunga at sunset.
Recently I have neglected this blog.  A brief update is overdue.  Now, with fewer than thirty days left in my Ecuaexperience, I am beginning to think about the next steps.  Every box on my June calendar is full of plans for travels, projects, and last-minute adventures.  I won't be able to slow down the rate at which I cross those boxes off and fly toward my return to the US, but I will do my best to enjoy each day as it comes.  Below are some photos and words from recent weeks and days.

Girls on top of Rucu Pinchicha, 4696 meters.

I've developed a Facebook page for the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute: ERI Facebook.  We will continue to post pertinent and timely issues facing Ecuador rivers in coming months to that page.

Matt Terry (founder, Ecuadorian Rivers Institute) and Ashley (human rights lawyer at Asylum Access) on the trail to the San Rafael Falls viewing point.

San Rafael Falls (the largest in Ecuador) on the Rio Coca as seen through a brief break in the clouds.   This incredible feature now faces the very real threat of elimination as a direct result of hydroelectric development immediately upstream. The Ecuadorian Rivers Institute is currently working to encourage reevaluation of the Coca Coda Sinclair hydro project on the Coca River. 
San Rafael Falls - another lucky glimpse through the swirling fog.
Rio Reventador, near San Rafael Falls.