Heartspots: Wachirpis, Ecuador

There is a tiny village in Ecuador, just by the border of Peru that I have fallen head over heels in love with. Waichurpis, home to just about 200 Achuar families is where I spent two summers during Grad school. Along with my classmates, we lived alongside this community, learned so much from them and gained a much deeper appreciation for nature, indigenous groups and human rights. 

I even ended up writing my thesis about it. 

It’s been a few years since I’ve been to Ecuador and it has taken me that long to feel the desire to write this post. Not because I have any ill feelings towards that experience, but because it is one that is so tied to my being that I needed a bit of time to reflect and fully process what my time there meant to me. Sometimes you need to step away, to really see how important a place is. 

I still remember the first time I set foot in that jungle. Coming in from the plane, it looked like those trees went on for miles. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. Not a skyscraper, not a cell phone tower, not a restaurant in sight. There were of course a few structures, huts mainly, but it didn’t take long (seconds really) to see how remote we were. 

We arrived on the air strip, which was more of a dirt road to a large group of townspeople. They were waiting for us. Getting ready to greet us. Children ran to the plane to help us with our bags. Young men smiled at us, the women were more shy. I can only imagine the faces and the looks we were sending back to them. (My hope is that they were all smiles, I’m pretty sure the fear in our eyes probably gave us away).

The awkwardness of those first few hours was difficult, but not in a terrifying way, more in a “how is this all going to work out?” kind of way.

 As the days passed, the village became more and more familiar. We started to recognize the families and whose children belonged to whom. We knew who the Shaman was. Who the cook was. We knew the faces of the elders and their wives. We heard the songs of their ancestors. We began to recognize plants and even some of the dangers of the jungle. We figured out how to use the bathroom, bath in the river and even garden in the jungle. We tried to learn words in Achuar (some were better than others). We tried to teach dances and songs to our new friends. And they taught us as well. So much more than we could have ever done. Sometimes we got sick. Somedays we couldn’t stop itching the bug bites that covered our bodies. Some afternoons it was too hot to function. But we still ended up having the best time.

I learned a lot about myself in Waichurpis. For the first time, I understood what it meant to be at peace. I learned what it felt like to forget the world outside, to put down the phone and to unplug fully. I learned what it was to be in tune with not only my thoughts, but with nature around me. I learned the importance of Indigenous knowledge and the power that these people have through their connections to the earth. I learned that western ways are not always best. I learned that I can survive in a tent and bath in a river and laugh in the rain. I learned that it’s okay to get dirty and sweaty and it’s even better to not worry about wearing makeup. I learned that survival is so much more than just staying alive. 

Waichurpis is a place I will never forget, but it isn’t physical town that is ingrained in my mind. It is the people who will always be with me. My heartspot is with each one of them. The ones who made me smile, who frustrated me beyond belief. The ones who taught me and laughed with me and the ones who danced with me. The ones who made me see that I even when I am most stripped down, I am enough. That it doesn’t matter what I wear or how I dress, they accepted me anyways. 

The jungle didn’t need me. But I sure needed it.