We arrived in a tiny Cessna 182 that takes 3 passengers and the pilot. 
This plane is somewhat bigger.
 

Deep in the Amazonian Jungle

(In my last blog from Ethiopia, I said I was going to set up a community radio for street kids in Cuenca, Ecuador. It didn't quite turn out that way. It turned out better.) 

For those of you who might be interested in the Ethiopian story: 

http://ebekes.vso-stories.net

Kapawi Lodge

“I’ve found the perfect job for you,” says Agi in her e-mail. When I click on the link for Kapawi Ecolodge, I have a vague, familiar feeling. I have seen this place before when surfing the net and looking for voluntary placements in Ecuador. I remember being fascinated by the job: teaching English in a remote Amazonian village to members of the Achuar tribe and being able to spend every second weekend at their ecologically sustainable jungle lodge. The snag was that the organizers of the programme expected the volunteers to cover their air fares as well as make a contribution to the cost of their board and lodgings. A lot less favourable arrangement than what I had in Ethiopia with VSO… I looked longingly at the mysterious lagoon surrounded by the traditional, oval lodges covered by palm fronds and then forgot about it all.

But now I was already here in Ecuador and apart from the university module on Action Research that I was asked to run in November, I didn’t have much to do. Two hours after Agi’s e-mail hit my mailbox, my application form and my CV was on its way to the organizers. The following day I was sent some more information and on the third day I was offered the job. It possibly only happened, because the volunteer lined up for the job had to cancel in the last minute and the placement had to be re-advertised. My experience and the fact that I was available at short notice probably worked in my favour.

“Next you will be teaching English to Russian astronauts on the MIR space station,” said my brother when he heard about the new assignment. “Did you say your malaria pills had no side effects like nightmares and delusions when you took them in Ethiopia? I am not so sure…” says a friend jokingly when I tell him that I am going to the jungle and will need to start taking Lariam again.

And here I am. In a spacious bungalow with mosquito nets, a proper bathroom with shower and a flush toilet, a deck chair and other basic, but comfortable pieces of locally carved, wooden furniture. Drafting my first newsletter deep in the jungle from where it takes 10 days to walk back to civilization. Or a 50-minute flight in a tiny Cessna 182 that takes three passengers and the pilot.

That was Monday morning. The flights leave from Shell, a small frontier town that had its heyday in the 1970s when oil was discovered in the Amazon area and the oil companies scrambled for concessions. They are now gone but they left behind a civil aviation base, since most of the Amazonian communities can only be reached by plane. The Achuar community have their own airline with a fleet of 3 small planes, but this time round the young German couple and myself flew by another local company.

“Get in, sit down, shut up and hang on”, says the label stuck above the instruments next to the pilot. We were wearing earphones to block out the engine noise and did nothing but grin at each other with Liana and Daniel as the vast expanse of the Amazonian jungle and its slow, meandering rivers came into view. From above, the rainforest looks flat, but one of my students, an Achuar guide has already told me that when he takes his 24-day holiday entitlement after working without a break for 32 days, he walks for three days to get back home to his own community climbing mountains, crossing rivers and trudging swamps.

Arrival

We land in a community called Kusutkau. This is where the new community teacher, who is due to arrive soon from Britain, will live. And this is where I would be living had I… Right now I am glad that I will be the permanent fixture at the lodge, rather than the fortnightly visitor.

There is a breezy, palm covered hut next to the air strip; a group of Belgian tourists are sitting around drinking tropical fruit juice and water. Soon we are taken down to the motor-boat, a narrow canoe covered by plastic sheeting. It’s a 30-minute ride to the lodge where we are greeted by the Achuar manager. There is a wooden boardwalk that takes us from the river through the jungle to the cabins. We walk past the staff quarters; I have a quick, sideways look, because I was told that if the lodge gets very busy, I might be asked to move in there.

But right now it looks like low season. It’s just me, (and I am not considered to be a guest but a member of staff, anyway) the German couple and a Japanese lady whose status I cannot work out for days, because she is not staff, but neither is she a conventional guest, because she eats with us in the staff canteen and appears to be very much at home. “I’ve been coming to Ecuador for 20 years”, she tells me. I’ve known my guide for thirteen and I used to know the manager’s father as well. He was a guide before he retired, just like Angel.” Etsuko is fascinated by Ecuador. She is a pension fund manager back in Japan, but makes her escape from the treadmill of her life to Ecuador at least three times a year. It’s hard to judge how old she might be, but when I ask her if she would consider living here permanently after she retired, the look on her face says that it might not be imminent.

Yesterday

My three-month cycle starts exactly on 1st October. After lunch I have a meeting with the manager, Angel, who tells me about the staff and their daily schedule. It looks like I will be teaching either small groups of two or three people or have individual sessions. We decide that I will come to the staff meeting every morning and confirm my classes for the day. “And tomorrow we can go to Kapawi community,” says Angel, “so that you can get to know the school where you will be teaching on Mondays and Fridays.” “Can we go on Wednesday? I think it’s important to get started with the classes over here tomorrow. People have seen me today, so they expect me to start the lessons soonish.” He considers then nods.

“Teacher, when are we starting our lessons?” asks someone at dinnertime. “Yesterday”,* I reply without giving it a thought if this makes any sense to them. And there could be at least one person in the canteen who may think: “Good God, they’ve sent us an English teacher who doesn’t know the difference between “yesterday” and “tomorrow”.

And when it comes to getting started, I probably don’t.

*Implies urgency: “I need it yesterday.” = Mar tegnap is keso lett volna.

All images by courtesy of the Achuar language teaching programme 

Typical Achuar house - ovel shaped, no walls, covered by palm fronds