I spent close to one month as a volunteer investigator for the
Fundacion in Cabo San Francisco in April of 2004, researching the
villagers' use of local plants in traditional medicine. My experience
was in every way rewarding, for I learned not only about the topic of
my study but about every aspect of life in Cabo, and I formed
relationships with the villagers and the land around them that I shall
never forget.
Upon arriving in Quito I was greeted at the airport by the
Fundacion's director, Dr. Ricardo Torres, and decided to remain in
Quito in the Fundacion's office for a few days before heading to the
coast in order to acclimatize myself to Ecuadorian culture and a new
national context. Eventually, an overnight bus transported me to the
small coastal town of Muisne, where I was met by the village junta
(council) President, Enrique Cobeña, who then accompanied me on the
short boat ride and long walk on the beach of Cabo's peninsula to the
village itself. For the duration of my three week stay I lived with the
Cobeña family and was treated with the utmost hospitality and
generosity by them and the rest of the village residents.
For my research I formally interviewed the three or four midwives of Cabo, as
well as several older women who were known for their knowledge of plant-based
medicine. I realized before long, however, that every single resident of the village
was a sort of unofficial "source" for my study, because knowledge of traditional
medicine is such an integral part of Cabo's culture that young boys and elderly
women alike share a common appreciation for the medicinal uses of local plants.
What struck me most was the sheer magnitude of the number of species with possible
salutary or curative uses, and the friendly reverence with which the villagers
discussed these hundreds of local montes (plants). I came away from this study
with a newly enriched understanding of the multi-layered significance of each
little flower and leaf of the tropical forest to the lives of those native to
the area.
Of course, to expand the context of my study, the relevance of my new
understanding to current developments in Esmeraldas and surrounding
provinces is critical. During a particularly memorable all-day trek
through the forest under the guidance of an elderly man who has spent
his life in the campo (forested countryside), I recall hearing the
whirring sound of a tree-cutting machine disrupting the otherwise
peaceful silence of our surroundings. My guide interrupted his detailed
description of a few rare plant species to answer my questions about
the environmental impact of the lumber industry on the area. I learned
of ongoing deforestation in nearby villages so severe that it drove
away their residents and the poisoning of the local river by
large-scale shrimp farming businesses in the recent past, among other
things. What particularly horrified me about this discussion was my new
knowledge of what "environment" meant to the people of Cabo - not just
a sentimental term to describe an unblemished natural setting, but a
term to describe the fruits and fish that people eat and earn a living
from; the materials used to construct houses; the sources of
traditional medicine; and a whole universe of meanings that make up the
rich culture of Cabo San Francisco. In the face of all this, the
persistence of large-scale, environmentally destructive industrial
initiatives in the area by outside companies seems to me to be close to
murder.
Many of the other village realities I gradually became aware
of saddened me; particularly those having to do with the abysmal
educational standards of the local school and the utter lack of modern
medical attention to Cabo residents. Basic public services are severely
lacking in Cabo San Francisco, to say the least - rendering the
villagers both at a severe disadvantage in the increasingly cutthroat
economic context of modern Ecuador and the developing world, and at a
severe disadvantage with respect to their quality of life.
My concern about these matters was only augmented by the generosity I
saw among so many of these people living in poverty, their
extraordinary energy and sense of community, and their sincerity. Life
in Cabo, despite its obvious hardships, is full of joy. Whether dancing
to the blaring salsa music of the local discoteca on Saturday nights or
playing with children in the ocean at low tide; chatting with my host
family and our neighbors during a welcome thundershower or collecting
zapotes (local fruit) in the forest with friends, I enjoyed myself
tremendously. And I would not have done so had it not been for the
curiousity, the open-mindedness, and the vitality of the villagers.
Thus, my departure from Cabo back to Quito via the nearby town
of Atacames was both bitter and sweet. I left with priceless memories
of a stunningly beautiful and incredibly rich natural setting and many
valuable relationships, but also with a nagging concern for the future
of the village and those who call it home. My hope is that with the
help of the Fundacion and more far-sighted outside interventions, the
villagers will benefit from new income-generating initiatives,
increased respect by big business of the tropical forest and
environment, and improved and functional basic public services.
In the end, we have as much to learn, if not more, from Cabo San Francisco than the villagers have to learn from us.
More Pictures
Priya Lal, U.S.A. may 2004
