Ecuador and The PeopleBy Elizabeth Lokey Being in Ecuador during the fall of 1998 was like riding a roller coaster. Each day I faced a new adventure or catastrophe. I quickly learned the meaning of the local expression, "Si Dios quiere." Whenever making plans for the future, the Ecuadorians attached this phrase meaning "God willing" onto the end of everything. Even when I would call, "hasta maņana," meaning "see you tomorrow," to a friend, she would reply, "si Dios quiere." This little phrase was just one way they expressed their faith in God, which helped them remain calm on the ups and downs of their roller coaster life. The politics in Ecuador are just as volatile as the ring of fire in which it is located. During my five-month stay, a new president was inaugurated because the former one had stolen millions of dollars from the government and fled to Panama. The Sucre fell to the dollar 100 percent and a volcano 10 kilometers from Quito began to erupt. Riots accompanied the economic measures that followed the devaluation of the Sucre but, otherwise, the people endured these changes with few complaints. Families bought masks to protect themselves from the volcanic ash, sealed their windows, said their prayers at night and continued to commute into the city for work each day. I would venture to guess that if the dollar were to be devalued to 100 percent just as a new president was inaugurated into office and a volcano was erupting outside of New York, the U.S. would be a bit more concerned. While I was in the middle of this chaos, trying to study the amazing and diverse ecosystems of the country, I was further disheartened by the state of the environment. Ecuador is synonymous with natural beauty like that of Costa Rica in the minds of some ecotourists, but let me assure you that Costa Rica's diversity pales in comparison to Ecuador's. Furthermore, Costa Rica's park system is well established and, therefore, its natural beauty is much better protected than Ecuador's. I was lucky enough to study on the Galapagos Islands, the rainforest, cloud forest, "paramo," which is grassland above 12 thousand feet, dry valleys of the Andes and coastal mangroves. Unfortunately, though, three of these amazing ecosystems are being exploited by multi-national corporations. Copper mining in the cloud forest has destroyed thousands of acres of habitat for animals like the Andean bear and the toucan, and plants like the rare Guandera tree. Petroleum exploitation in the rainforest has not only disrupted plant, animal and the habitats of indigenous peoples but also poisoned water supplies. Unchecked shrimp cultivation on the coast has endangered coastal mangroves and nurseries for marine species. Some of the people I encountered accepted this contamination of their country as inevitable. "After all," they would remark, "our country has to make money somehow. If selling its natural resources is how it must be done, then so be it." This complacency, however, was not the attitude of all Ecuadorians. The Secoyas, an indigenous tribe that I lived with while doing a project on the contamination of their water, have been to court in New York City several times, trying to make Texaco clean up old oil wells that continue to pollute their water supply. These Secoyas know that the money Texaco gives to the Ecuadorian government for the rights to mine in the rainforest will never filter down to them. In fact, this money probably never got past the former president. I found it inspiring to be around people who, through faith, accept the things that cannot be changed about life, such as exploding volcanoes, but do what they can about the things that can be changed. Since my time in Ecuador, the new president was ousted; a military coup ruled for three days; the Sucre was abandoned after it fell 300 more percent to the dollar;
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