What a strange day.

In twenty minutes we dropped some 8,000 feet, from Quito to Lago Agrio, the dingy oil town in the northern Oriente. We are in the selva, the jungle. And here is this crawling town, built on oil and narcotrafficking and the crowd that follows. Not far from the Colombian border, we are staying in at night (the one night we are here) and going no where alone.

From here on out, we will be accompanied by a Quichua man named José. He is an activist, sings a lot, and is used to speaking Spanish to non-native speakers, which is extremely helpful. His father is a shaman, and I am anxious to talk to him more about that, as my particular interest in this research concerns how religious and spiritual practices and roles have changed since the arrival of oil, and how the presence of Christianity has affected such.

And yes, the oil. We are in the area previously developed by Texaco, who have a rather abysmal track record in Ecuador. They claimed to have cleaned everything up--spillage estimated to be around 30 times more than the Exxon Valdez-- although there is currently a class-action lawsuit--the first of its kind-- against them by 30,000 residents of the Oriente for the environmental and health damage suffered by contamination.

We went to one of these sites that had been ´cleaned´--and watched as our guide Robertson dug a stick in the ground and pulled it out black and shiny with oil residue. Not surprising.

The main part of these research, however, has to do with the people who are living here now--and that means interviews. We met with a family of colonists, people who had lived in another part of Ecuador and moved out to the selva when the roads were built. It seemed like a woman, her husband, mother, daughter and son-in-law, and grand daughter. Six, in a tiny house of boards, with an abundance of chickens, an oil well just 50 meters over the hill and pipes running through the front yard. Instead of water, this family has crude. Our first interview, and we all agree that it was incredibly uncomfortable. We moved through the questions quickly, and there was a tiredness to the responses as if we were the latest in a long line of foriegners come to extract one MORE thing from these strained bodies. And this, I think, will be the challenge siempre--how, I wonder, can one possibly mitigate the power dynamic that obviously exists when three white estadounidenses come around wanting something?

And it challenges my thoughts on what our role actually is, as foriegners, in a situation like this. What is our obligation given our history here? What is the best use of our privilege now? How does one wiegh one's impact on a place versus the good one hopes to accomplish through such impact? And how can we be sensitive to that which and those whom we impact? These questions are especially interesting to me as I trace the presence of Christianity in this region as well. From what I´ve read, it has too many uncanny ties to oil for me to think that the net impact has been positive--but I have yet to hear anyone´s story on this topic, and shall wait and see. As a Christian, I am unsure of where that places me. It is a question I think about a lot, and not limited to the borders of Ecuador--Cortez was an exemplary bearer of the cross AND the sword.

Goodness, so much for only one day. But a long blog, becuase I'm unsure when we'll have internet next. I'm rather shocked we have it now--although I shouldn't have been surprised. Apparently the only other people staying in this hotel--probably in most of the hotels in this town--are ´petroleros´--people in the oil business.

The night is thick and damp and thrumming with the sound of air conditioners and traffic. I thank God I am here--with these fanastic travel companions, Chuck and Rachel and José. I´m thankful for clean bottled water provided by Coca-cola. I´m thankful for even my limited Spanish and the clear Ecuadorian accent. I´m thankful for the freedom of movement, as an estadounidense, as a woman. I´m thankful that there are not standing pipes in my neighborhood that are constantly burning off the natural gas waste of the oil wells. And I pray that all might know the same (except the Coke part--don´t get me going on pinche bottled water, ay carumba).

Cariño a todos y buenas noches.