Wow, is it really the middle November already? Even in the tranquil Ecuadorian Amazon, time seems to fly right by. It’s probably because there’s never a dull moment here at Yachana – any given week is a mix of meetings with social entrepreneurs, business workshops at the high school, the occasional Kichwa lesson, and tending to my ever-present bug bites. But those aren’t the only things that make the time pass “rapidamente” here: add extreme rural isolation and lack of modern infrastructure to any of the above activities and they immediately take twice as long, and thus make your day about twice as short.
Por ejemplo, want to do laundry before your important big-city meeting tomorrow? No can do muchacho. Laundry takes about 3 days in the Amazon; that’s ½ a day to hand wash and at least 2 ½ days to air dry thanks to the constant 98% humidity. Want to dash off to Quito for a quick afternoon appointment? Try again, hombre. Even though Mondaña is only about 120 miles from Quito, it takes on average a trip across the river (5 minutes – 2 hours depending on bus schedules), followed by a 2-3 bus ride on what I refuse to consider a “road,” followed by another 5-6 hour bus ride through the winding Andes Mountains before you even reach the Quito city limits. (Yes yes, there are planes. But even the nearest airport is 3 hours down river.)
Communication is also a bit tricky in the jungle. Thanks to the Yachana Lodge we have wifi, but not enough bandwidth to send large files or to make voice calls. Sometimes you can find a bar of service on a cell phone, but chances are the signal will disappear within the first 5 minutes of your call and you’ll have to start doing what has been so aptly named “the signal dance” until you find another lonely little bar of signal somewhere else. And while satellite phones work flawlessly, they’re very expensive and not at the disposal of the masses.
What I’m trying to say is – daily activities, and subsequently business activities, take a bit longer here in the Amazon; especially with respect to transportation and communication. Sure, all these obstacles may sound nice to the average Western nine to five-er who’s dying “to get away from it all,” but such obstacles can seriously impede economic development and entrepreneurial activity for those who actually live “away from it all.”
Let’s pretend you have small crop of pineapple plants. Pineapples usually sell for a set price, regardless of how or where they are grown. A jar of pineapple jam, however, can sell for more than triple the price than the same quantity of fresh pineapple. The additional costs of canning the jam are minimal – corn syrup, a little sugar, maybe some spices, and glass jars. The finished canned product is a fantastic way to increase the value (and shelf-life) of many fruits and vegetables without incurring substantial costs. And who doesn’t love fresh jam in the morning?
But now let’s pretend you have a small crop of pineapple plants and you live in Mondaña, Ecuador. If you decide to start canning pineapple jam, the costs of glass jars and bringing the final product to market instantly increase because of difficulties in transportation. Since you’re not connected to the electric grid, you have to continuously purchase tanks of propane gas for your stove in order pressurize and seal the jars. And because you have no reliable way to connect with potential retail customers outside of Mondaña, selling your product requires personal trips to the big city to negotiate contracts.
Well, shoot. As much as I love pineapple jam and want to share its sweet goodness with the rest of the world, there’s no way I would ever start a canning business in the jungle. By the time you add up all the additional costs, not including time and effort, you’d make the same amount of profit as you would just selling the raw pineapple at the weekly market. The lack of infrastructure in Mondaña and surrounding rural communities makes it difficult for any entrepreneur to ever achieve economies of scale with their venture. And to think, the Amazon is literally busting at the seams with exotic fruits, medicinal plants, and rare spices and herbs that could easily be cultivated (sustainably, of course), processed, and sold throughout Ecuador and rest of the world. Such small enterprises could substantially increase the household income of and livelihood of thousands of families. But alas, without modern infrastructure it is simply not feasible to begin such projects. A few cases such as Kallari Chocolate and Runa Guayusa have been successful and their positive social and environmental impact cannot be ignored. But they are the exception, not the rule.
Many have argued that the creation of infrastructure, i.e. electricity, communication services, and the construction of roads in the Amazon are all negative things. “We’re encouraging deforestation,” “we’re replacing century-old traditions with Facebook,” “we’re ruining the sunset over the Napo River with electric poles,” and the list goes on. While all of these are extremely valid and very serious concerns, at what point do we have the right to tell the citizens of the Amazon that they can’t have a decently paved road or a functional communication system if they want them?
As much as many Americans are itching to “get away from it all” and escape to pristine pockets of natural beauty such as the Amazon, many rural families and communities in the Amazon are literally desperate to “get away from it all” …All being the difficulties in transport, little access to basic goods and services, and isolation from international commercial markets. I first noticed the extremity of these crisscrossing sentiments while traveling back to Yachana from Quito the other day.
Agua Santa, the community across the river from Yachana, has recently received road access and is now connected to a major national highway. With this road it is actually possible to drive 99% of the way to Yachana, and bus service in and out of Agua Santa to other major cities has also recently commenced. The conversation I witnessed went as follows:
Gringo: (In a melancholy, somber, and every other depressing adjective tone of voice) “I heard they built a road from Tena to Agua Santa.”
Amazon local: (In an “I just welcomed my first born to the family” tone of voice) “Yes! We have a road! Thank God! …It’s about time.”
So where is the line? Of course we want everyone to have the same opportunities for economic freedom and improved standards of living. But we also want what literally makes up the lungs of the earth to continue to provide us with clean air, bio diversity, and countless other environmental services.
I’m pretty sure someone could win the Nobel peace prize for figuring out this not-so-little problem. Until then, Ecuador and countless other emerging markets could sure use any ideas and suggestions!