My stomach is grumbling as I find myself perched on a comfy chair, overlooking the Napo River, lush green forests pitched alongside the shores and floral hues of reds, oranges and yellows bursting from every corner. I think lunch comes soon, although I’m disappointed to realize the cause of my hunger pangs are from the one mile hike we trek back and forth to get to our sleeping quarters. I guess I’m not in as good of shape as I thought.
My first 24 hours at Yachana have been filled the expected travel woes (mucho dolor en mi estomago) and some rather unexpected realities of life in the Amazon rainforest. Its green here. And when I say green, I mean 650 species of tree per hectare (100 yards x 100 yards). Green means bushes with leaves the size of the hood of your car. Its paradise for those of us who always wished we could live out the land before time. Its also muddy here. And when I say muddy I mean sludge that goes calf deep sometimes. We’re well equipped with knee-high rubber boots and seem to be quickly mastering the art of mud hiking. The sounds of the jungle are ferociously powerful. A chorus of frogs, crickets, monkeys, and a host of birds make their presence known in the darkness of night. And frequent torrential rainstorms eternally replenishing life in the wild kept me tossing and turning under my mosquito net all night. Insects, even greater in diversity than trees (100,000 species per hectare), make no polite request for the sharing of our sleeping quarters. Cockroaches have infiltrated our beds despite Matt and Dan’s best efforts to utilize our illustrious Chacos in squashing them – they return everlastingly, which is I assume why they are said to be the only survivors after any potential doomsday world destruction scenario.
The forest demands respect from those who wish to enter it. The jungle is a propitious reminder that we are humans, animals at best, an iota of something much larger, greater, more powerful than we could ever collectively create. Our societies have been functioning for centuries now (some could argue, millenia) under the assumption we are grand enough to extract ourselves from this thing we call the ecosystem; that we are distinct and disparate from nature. The jungle may remind us that, in fact, we are nature. We are mere portions, pieces, pawns in an eternal, chaotic beauty of life and death and rebirth that happens every day here. Ants are building colonies and carrying leaves across the pathways I walk on here. Flowers are blooming and offering delicious feasts to their pollinators. Rains are filling the river and washing rocks from the highlands into the basins of the jungle. Humans have infested this area in the last 50 years causing alarming rates of deforestation. If we cannot find a way to reinsert ourselves as parts and participants in nature, nature will surely find a way to destroy its festering cancer.
Alas, I’m humbly soaking up all I can learn from the leadership of Yachana in education for conservation and sustainability. From programs employing Payment for Ecosystem Services to award farmers with money in exchange for not cutting down the forest, to technical training of young adults in PV solar technology maintenance, to one of the best ecotoursim lodges in the world according to National Geographic, this Foundation is making strides.
I washed my clothes in the sink today with the notorious Dr. Bronner’s, hanging them in a shelter which protects from the rain but provides no precipitation for the drying process in this humid air. I am hoping against odds I may have clean pants to wear tomorrow. I took a cold shower in a simple, small room. And now I lay my head down under a mosquitero, hoping to rest amid the symphony of the jungle tonight.
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