"Farewell to the Oriente; A Quito Homecoming" 

Satler Ritcher Hospital in Archidona

June 16, 2002
By Jocelyn

 Today we traveled back to Quito for one very short evening, including hot showers.  After experiencing the wonders of the Amazon as best as one can in three days, I have concluded that it is simply unique – although would be perfect if not for the parasites.  On the canoe ride back, I looked at the quiet banks while fighting the lulling effect of the overpowering outboard motor.  Young women trailed by their little girls scrubbed clothes offshore leaving a bubble-line of soap next to our wake.  A lizard sat contently on Joey and Jessica and we watched a small creature blink in the artificial winds.  It drizzled.  We tied up our poncho hoods and got wet.

 
Floating hospital on the Napo River

  The engine of one canoe broke.  For thirty minutes I watched a plastic bottle teeter and fall due to the unavoidable effects of the falling beach rocks.  The perfect simplicity of the Amazon had worn off on our group of travelers who successfully made a game of stone throwing.  Rules were known, although not discussed.  Nothing needed to be said, and for a moment, the purity of the jungle came through in our laughter.  Language was not needed.  Translation was far from considered.  All was understood – and the throwing continued even as more ponchos were distributed. 

On the bus, I watched cities pass and evidence of the Amazon disappear.  Muddy roads allowed precarious travel, yet I felt safe.  We were driving to a roof.  The homes we passed may have been covered, although rain still dripped inside of the walls.  Unmistakably American clothes hung across lines drying in the drizzle.  The process of imposed modernization shown so sweetly in the temporarily naked bodies that I started to wonder what “developing” actually means.

 
Girl carrying her sister in Yuralpa

  Indigenous cultures are now being taken over by modern ideals.  Granted medicine in an invaluable and timeless lesson, but who really needs to be infiltrated?  A corrupt government does very little for the public health care.  Poor souls are left for the local hospitals or for the brilliance of jungle medicine men and women.  And even the healers are expensive. 

For a family of seven, one gone is simply that. The sadness eventually fades and one more mouth can be fed at dinner.  The desire to find new (or questionably improved) medicines is not an immediate priority.  Now, I can even understand why volunteers are so difficult to present to such communities.  Who wants to spend a couple of years arguing with tradition?  Or with the typical healers?  Or the government?  Or the empty beds in the serene private hospitals? 

Roadside fruit market near Sto. Domingo

  I was cleansed of my bad spirits yesterday:  tobacco, a hornet’s nest, and big leaves shook out all my evils.  Mesmerizingly, it rained.  We were purified, the earth was satiated – run-off removed all unnecessaries, rebirthing life.  I do not really know if my bad spirits (assuming they were there to begin with) really took to the heavens that afternoon.  Although, the jungle healer wearing denim cut-offs, muttered words and I felt alive.