Nikhil Kothari

Nine months after my arrival in Ecuador, I’ve settled comfortably back into my life in New York. I’ve heard many stories of culture shock, and the overall difficulty of readjustment to life in the United States after a stint in the developing world. I generally dismissed most of these tales as melodramatic and inaccurate. Now, having experienced this process myself, I’ve confirmed this suspicion. Still, certain reflections upon this fellowship are inevitably warranted.

Condensing such an extensive sequence of people and places into a pithy blog entry is impossible, but certain thoughts are sufficiently striking to note. “Sustainable rural development” is an admirable end, but the vague nature of this goal often makes it difficult to initiate projects, as well as assess developmental progress. Allie and I usually need to compartmentalize the different aspects of our work in Estero, and analyze them separately. Our lack of supervision while on the coast was remarkably useful, as it allowed us to shape our work based on personal, deep-seated passions, along with the urgent needs and desires of the community. My work in the clinic was quite rewarding, as it provided an organized and educational means to familiarize myself with the community, as well get some useful, hands-on experience that would generally be withheld from me until a later stage in my medical training. I’d continue on, describing the various projects we conducted, but our concrete accomplishments or failures seem less significant than our more abstract contributions and rewards.

The friendships we’ve gained from this fellowship have proven stronger than many of ours back in the states. Our friends in Estero, such as Julio and Luis, had absolutely no personal incentive behind providing us with the sense of comfort and guidance that they indeed gave us. A stubborn skeptic and cynic, I initially found the unadulterated kindness of Estero quite startling. The capacity for selfless friendship is much more expansive in this tiny, isolated community, than in most places in wealthier nations. This may be a quality born from necessity, since isolation often dials up the importance of personal connection. The stark contrast between New York and Estero de Platano, in this capacity, was the singular difficulty I found in this process of “readjustment”.

This fellowship was an incredible gift. The opportunity to engage in strenuous yet rewarding work in the developing world, while being completely funded, is one of the most remarkable chances I’ve been given. Unlike some of my “fellow fellows”, I began the fellowship with a firm, static idea of what my life would resemble nine months later. And while this experience certainly could have altered this plan, it didn’t. It provided this scheme, centered around providing medical care in developing nations, with a sense of finality, along with a motivating sense of urgency. I’m extraordinarily grateful for this, along with the opportunity to learn Spanish and an assortment of other skills. Of course, this seems a bit counterintuitive. The basis of any service fellowship should be some sort of sacrifice, not an endless stream of benefits. I believe we’ve done some solid work, and created a variety of sustainable projects for Alex and Shelby, along with a positive reputation for Yanapuma. Moreover, I hope that we’ve given people in Estero a sense of empowerment, a more profound appreciation of their own abilities to enact and sustain improvements. Regardless, quantifying our progress seems too difficult, and for these purposes, irrelevant. As I’ve mentioned before, I can only hope that our contributions are not massively outweighed by our gains. I won’t issue some pithy platitude about how making one child smile makes the whole experience instantly worthwhile. I wouldn’t be satisfied with that. I’d only settle for a more profound impact, something lasting and tangible. But, as I’ve learned, concrete accomplishments are often hidden in development work. Embracing this notion is essential before beginning any career in the realm of “doing good”. And although abstract, the subtle changes one makes through dedicated work are nevertheless existent, and it’s these sorts of changes that make a Minerva Fellowship, Peace Corps stint, or any sort of service-themed journey so inarguably worthwhile.

Construction began roughly 2.5 weeks ago, along with the help of Phillip, an engineer from the United States and now a close friend. Yanapuma and Agua Muisne agreed to collaborate financially in terms of purchasing materials and hiring two maestros to lead construction. After a civil discussion with our chosen maestros, we set a daily salary for each of them and began construction. The first few steps included clearing a plot of land in the primary school enclosure (an ideally central location for the placement of this system), laying the foundation and placing columns, followed by preparing cement to reinforce columns and lay a floor. Afterwards, we used wooden tablas to build rafters and proceeded to place aluminum sheet metal over the structure to complete our roof. Raising walls using plaster and cinder blocks followed, succeeded by plastering over all walls, inside and out, leaving slots for windows and a door. Construction was relatively swift initially, but eventually lost a bit of pace, as the maestros were contracted for 15 days and intended to stretch the process to that predetermined limit (common with construction in nearly all locations).Tanks, filters, and pumps were installed afterward, after a careful analysis of valve placement and drainage flow. Overall, construction is completed, and the structure is ready for paint.

Having provided a brief overview of the actual installment of this system, it seems warranted to proceed to a discussion of the “social process”, the process that inherently determines the success or failure of any vital community resource. We called two meetings, one with the local youths, and one with the adults, mainly to explain the significance of such a system, the advantages it would provide, and to answer questions or alleviate concerns. The meeting with the youths went well, and the fact that I provided loads of lollipops helped things proceed smoothly. The adults were mainly concerned with technical details, and essentially grilled Phillip and I for an hour and a half. Concerns were mainly related to oversight and transparency, which we managed to address quite well. We also appointed two people to work at the system site temporarily, until permanent workers can be found.

Now, people in Estero generally drink water from the tap (if the house in question has running water), and most don’t boil their water consistently. Some adults drink water from the river, which is indisputably worse. Some families purchase pomas, 20 liter containers sold by one of two private companies, which send vendor trucks only once a week. Each container costs $1, or $1.25. Consistent expenditures of this nature accumulate quickly, and they constitute a sizable expense. SO, why is our water system better? Apart from the whole novelty of drinking clean, parasite-free water? Water will be sold in similar 20 liter containers, but for 25 cents a pop. We’d love to give out free water, but that sort of idea is unsustainable, considering costs of maintenance of the system and paying our two workers. However, proceeds will be funneled directly back into the system, for purchasing new filters and other supplies, and considering that the two system aides will be from Estero itself, the entirety of each 25 cent payment benefits the community. Also accounting for the constant accessibility of this water, obviating the need for handing over money to private, obscure companies, this system provides an advantageous option.

After painting and exterior work, we’ll run a publicity campaign, announcing the development of potable water in Estero to the surrounding area, hopefully driving in more tourism and funding. Things should be fully operational in 2 weeks. After 5 years of one bureaucratic nightmare after the next, Estero and Yanapuma are enormously relieved to see the rear of this water issue. We’re hoping that our social work regarding the system is well received, allowing residents to understand the system, use it, and most importantly, respect/maintain it. AGUA POTABLE. BAM.

Unfortunately, three of our scholarship recipients lost their scholarships this past year, two of whom simply lost funding after moving away from Estero, while the third failed to meet academic and participatory standards. As such, Allie and I were tasked with the job of finding three bright and willing students to replace them. We handed out applications, which required interested parties to provide past grades, answers to important questions regarding their interests and prospective careers, personal data, etc. We eventually chose our new becados based on their academic credentials and socioeconomic statuses. Mariah, Celeste, and Yaritza will surely make their families proud over these next few months, having finally acquired sufficient funding to study on a daily basis. Allie and I are looking forward to stalking…or observing… their upcoming progress.

Ah, the artisans, those dogmatic, talented, and often intimidating craftsmen. They’ve neared completion of their hostel, hoping to host tourists within the near future. The production of artesanias (earrings, necklaces, cups, bowls), has suffered at the hostel’s expense, but they’ll hopefully scale that up in the coming months. Allie and I have also spoken to them, requesting a large amount of samples to bring back to New York to be sold in the fair trade scene. The artisans’ group is relatively impenetrable, and I doubt that either of the two of us possesses the skill to sufficiently influence them, but we’ve learned loads from them regardless, and have at least shared our opinions with them. Their collective ambition in no way exceeds their talent, so we hope to observe many of their successes upon our inevitable return.

Following a meeting with the woman’s group, I ran into a woman from a neighboring town who, while using a megaphone, informed me that there would be a meeting quite soon regarding the tsunami. Being cut off from the internet and phone service, I naturally thought that this was just another precautionary event, detailing the emergency protocol in case of a massive wave (the protocol is as follows: “You live on a beach. You’re all screwed. Climb a hill, perhaps?”). As such, I carried on with my day, until Carlos and Mercy, my host brother and mother, informed me that apparently a tsunami was well on its way to the Esmeraldanian coast. I ran to one of the three houses equipped with satellite television, and immediately soaked in the news regarding the absolutely tragic earthquake in Japan, and the soon-after tsunami. President Correa issued several statements, mainly ordering a coastal evacuation, so we all went to this proposed meeting, and established that we’d all head to “the hill” together, as a community (see Allie’s blog for a photo of the hill’s view over Estero).

As the government expected the waves to reach at around 7 pm, we aimed to be on the hill around 5 pm. Needless to say, many women and children were safely perched at a comfortable elevation well before that time. But, as with any community, there were several men who refused to evacuate. “We’ll die here, no one can force us to leave”, was yet one of many trite  and overly dramatic statements we heard, although Julio refused upon the sole basis of laziness (classic Julio). After helping a few of the elderly inhabitants make their way, we spent time listening to the news. We were to expect a 2.5 meter wave, nothing overly intimidating, but the need to set a decent example was still prevalent, so we nevertheless strongly encouraged people to head to the hill, and helped bring up food and blankets. By 5:15 pm, my friends and I had Estero to ourselves, eating bread and drinking terrible instant cafe, all the while placing bets as to which of us would prepare a backpack and run up to the hill first. THEN, my friends, came the absolutely pivotal piece of news. The local government was to prepare food for all of Estero, to be served on the hill. Needless to say, our departure was relatively expeditious.

There was no food, I’m quite devastated to announce. Regardless, the sense of community and friendship was quite strong, and made the wait easily enjoyable. Our clearance time was continuously pushed back, based on patchy news from the provincial police, delivered via motorbike. Eventually, some large (2ish m) waves reached the shore, but nothing overly extraordinary. We left our perch and eagerly rushed back down, our resolve stiffened by the prospect by massive amounts of food in our homes.

Of course, I don’t mean to make light of the Japanese populace’s current ordeal. It’s quite unimaginable, and accounting for the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster, an irrefutably unbearable situation. Being referred to as the worst crisis that the nation has seen since the second world war, this sort of tragedy requires an international and effective collaboration to help mitigate such devastating effects. Of course, we’re all privy to the fact that it’s easy to make such assertions and recommendations, and quite a different task to fulfill them. I’d hope that our government’s expansive relief mission delivers aid swiftly and proficiently, and I think in this sort of a scenario, optimism isn’t naive, it’s plainly essential.

Volunteers in Estero pay 8 dollars per day, and that fee provides for three meals in addition to a bed. Despite the rather low figure, this is a fantastic way for families in Estero to garner a profit through the hosting of foundation workers. But, as with most community dynamics, politics always exert an influence on an almost certainly positive arrangement. When notified that volunteers are planning on coming to Estero, we’re given the responsibility of placing them in a home. This is relatively expeditious most of the time, but complications arise. Recently, families have begun to notice that certain households seem to always be receiving volunteers, and hence gaining a heightened level of income. This can lead to resentment, and an overall poor dynamic between different families, and must be taken into consideration. This is yet another glimpse into the social intricacies that must be weighed when working in small, tight-knit communities.

Loyal readers will remember an earlier entry mentioning the possibility of coordinating with a local NGO regarding the placement of a water purification system. We´ve been in touch with representatives from Agua Muisne, and this prospect now seems quite real. After arranging a meeting between a foundation representative and Estero´s main leadership, we selected a plot of land on school grounds for the system´s location and chose a start date. Yanapuma will provide the material costs, while Agua Muisne will contribute the much-needed technical expertise. We´re expecting a group of 6 volunteers from England on February 20th, so construction is slated to begin around that date. Although the chlorine machine is relatively functional, chlorinated water is incomparable to fully potable water. This would be a tangible and lasting development, so Coosho and I are really hoping that things don´t fall through. Ya diig.