I’ve been back in the US for 5 months now but the nostalgia of Ecuador keeps hitting me like the relentless waves of a stormy sea. I’m still processing everything that I experienced, and I’m not sure when and if I’ll stop processing. For some context, I lived in Ecuador for 4 months as part of a program that studies international “development”. I had a subconcentration in “medio ambiente”, or environment, and chose to take a path different than most other students when it came to choosing a location for our 6-week-long internships. I knew I wanted to study food sovereignty, and knew that if I wanted to study what real food sovereignty is, I needed to immerse myself in an indigenous kichwa community. So that’s what I did. I miss my host parents Manuelito and Laurita everyday. They taught me so much about their lives, their cosmovision, and agriculture as a way of life. Whether it was through this internship, through my classes, through field trips, or through daily lived experiences, I never stopped learning and growing. To help with this all, I’ve decided to organize a short series of beautiful moments from my amazing semester abroad.
Moment 1: The Lake
Adventuring through the sacred lomas by Yaguarcocha, aka blood lagoon, with my host tío Raul and my friend turn family Madison Davis. Having Raulito share with us the history of 
his land, where his kichwa ancestors defeated and sacrificed the Inca conquistadores and threw their bodies into the lake (hence the name). Taking us on a walk to see the tolas where people were laid to rest many, many years ago. Finding old pieces of ceramic from said tolas. Having Raulito tell us about the celebrations of Inti Raymi that take place on these hills, where people from comunidades all across Caranqui walk/dance to this location to come together and celebrate. Realizing you have the best tour guide in all of Ecuador.
Moment 2: El mercado Amazonas
My host mamá Laurita and I would occasionally come down from the community to buy some needed items from the local market. One day we were waiting for my host dad to come back, and it began to rain. A young woman in her puesto de pollos invited me to sit next to her to seek shelter. We began to talk and she asked me all about my life. 
“Estás estudiando en la universidad? Guau entonces eres muy inteligente.” “Pues, ojalá!” I responded to her. She asked me about the US, someone had told her that the buildings here are so tall that people never saw the sun. She asked me if that were true, I said no. She asked me about the clothes in America, insisting that they are of the highest quality. I questioned why she thought that, why she and so many other people have been brainwashed to believe that America is the best in everything and it alone is the standard to strive for. Her name is Yessica. She wakes up every morning at 4:30am to kill the chickens and bring them fresh to the market. I’ll always remember the kindness she showed me.
Moment 3: La Misión Scalabriniana
I had the opportunity to visit this wonderful place where a fellow bronco was doing her pasantía. Arelí, my beautiful, intelligent, radiant, and compassionate friend taught me so much (though still just the tip of the iceberg) including:
- “Immigrants make up 1/10 of Ecuador’s population
- There are at least 200,000 colombianos and a huge new wave of venezolanos today (most come with a tourist visa then stay past their time) which makes them undocumented. Most immigrants work in informal commerce where they are exploited and discriminated for not being Ecuadorian
- Many colombianas and now venezolanas find themselves forced into sex labor
- There are many stereotypes that degrade this population
- The ley orgánica de movilidad humana is unconstitutional trash and does not take into account undocumented migrants
- There is an incredibly high percentage of migrant women who are sexually harassed on
- their journey from their home country to Ecuador (about 90%)
- Pero, la misión is awesome, they have a refugee house for emergency cases, they have a youth group, they work with public policy and lobby, and they have various groups for women relating to self-care and mental health
- They also offer English, Italian, music, beauty, and massage classes to help integrate the migrants into the workforce
- However because of Trump’s administration cutting funding for international aid, la misión has had to cut their budget and their services
- But despite all the trauma and horrible experiences that these women have to go through in trying to find housing and employment, they are amazing”
This last one I can personally attest to. I was at la misión for ONE DAY and it stole my heart. I had the opportunity to go to one of their events, La Fiesta de los Pueblos, where there was to be many different showcases of people’s different cultures. I thought I was just going to support my super talented friend and watch her perform, but I somehow ended up choreographing and performing in a salsa choke routine with some very amazing and loving kiddos. That moment was one of the highlights of my abroad experience, so gracias Arelí for everything ❤
Moment 4: La Amazonía
We entered the Amazon, we left the Amazon, and I was never the same again. At first we were naive, just happy and excited to be in one of the world’s most beautiful places. Then we were exposed to the heartbreaking realities that exist within the rainforest, especially in relation to the exploitation of petroleum. The state allowed foreign businesses to come in, mainly Texaco (known today as Chevron), especially during the 60s and 70s. Yet the consequences continue to be seen today. Indigenous and campesino populations have been completely disregarded and marginalized. We saw this first hand when Donald (seen 
in the second photo) took us on a recorrido through the rainforest and showed us the monstrosities caused by Texaco. He told us about the 60,000,000,000 liters of agua de formación (byproduct of petroleum exploitation) intentionally dumped in his people’s drinking rivers. He told us about the many cases of women getting raped by outsider petroleum workers. He told us about the 2800 people in his pueblo who have died of cancer since Texaco came, and the additional 2000 diagnosed. He showed us a pool of petroleum left behind by Texaco, in which 25,000 heads of cattle have died. He showed us the petroleum pools that Texaco allegedly cleaned up after the lawsuit, which they obviously did not do well as they 
still continue to spew contamination into the surrounding environment. “Chevron tiene 2,640 abogados. Nosotros tenemos 11. Cuatro de ellos trabajan gratis. Los demás son mal pagados.” This trip left us shocked, broken, depressed. Unsure about how we could go on with our normal lives, unsure about what we could possibly do with this information that so few people know of, that almost no one gets to experience first hand like we did. Yet Donald still has hope for a better future, and he wanted us to be optimistic too. “Ahora lo que tienen que hacer es compartir, por favor, compartir todo lo que les enseñé hoy. Para que la gente sepa de nuestra realidad.”
Moment 5: El Intercambio
This was truly one of the most special events I’ve ever been fortunate enough to participate in. On one Wednesday afternoon, my host dad surprised me and my fellow student / (technically) host cousin Madison with a road trip. My host parents, my host aunt and uncle, a host family friend, Madison, and I embarked on a journey of 4 hours (each way) to an extremely isolated indigenous community named La Esperanza. The folks from this 
community were kichwa agua as opposed to kichwa caranqui like my family. Additionally, they lived in an environment of tierra caliente, and were therefore able to cultivate crops that our community could not. As such, we went there to do an intercambio, or exchange, of goods.
The long ride there took us through the most beautiful parts of Ecuador’s northern mountains and their rich, deep, lively, greenery. It also took us past various microclimates, and various farming practices. At one point we were driving through a huge valley, and my host dad turned to me and said, “¿Ves? Todo este valle donde estamos es caña de azúcar.” We also drove by some smaller plantations, where the brown, dry, lifeless, glyphosate-fumigated plots of land starkly contrasted the lush rainforest right behind it.
This changed when we started getting closer to La Esperanza. Everything in sight was such a lush, deep green that radiated an aura of richness and vitality. Despite the richness in the environment, my host mom explained to me that the folks from this community were actually very poor. Their incredibly isolated location makes it extremely difficult to trade 
with other indigenous communities, and the nearest town where they could buy food products in times of need was still very far away and an exceptional challenge for those who don’t have a car. As a result, we were welcomed with excitement and open arms by those from La Esperanza. We gave them harina, maíz, chochos, cebolla, habas, zanahorias, and arvejas in exchange for piña, plátanos, naranjillas, arazá, caña, and yuca. Being a part of this exchange completely free from the influence and control of capitalism was an incredible thing to witness. As my host dad once said to me, “Aquí, el dinero es algo diferente para nosotros. Podemos hacer intercambios de comida con otras comunidades, porque la alimentación es lo que tiene valor.”
What do all these moments have in common? Apart from making my heart happy, all of these relate to food sovereignty. Though the connection to Moment 5 may be more clear, perhaps the others have you questioning. Let me explain: Moment 1 speaks to cultural heritage and ancestry, Moment 2 to not only food but also questioning the colonization of the mind through the imposition of western standards, Moment 3 to migration and human rights, Moment 4 to the exploitation of land and people by big, foreign companies. All of these themes are directly related to the food sovereignty movement. FS is so much more than just growing your own food –it is a multi-use tool to address a myriad of social justice issues. But more than anything, it is a way of life. Sumak kawsay, el buen vivir.