Sincha Pura, Ecuador- Jungle Fever

Our class woke early to prepare for our trip to the village. We were apprehensive as we were finally given more information about what we had in store for us. The lodging facility was described as ‘primitive’ with ‘local building materials’ and ‘very rustic.’ Who would have thought we were just having drinks with the US ambassador in Quito, wearing suits and ties and here we are looking like jungle commandos. We had to hike in to the village, so I consolidated things into my day pack. The rest of the luggage was stored on the bus, as we all decided we could live through life not going back to the hotel. We were very clear that we didn’t feel safe having our belongings stored at that location, as we probably wouldn’t have anything left when we got back.

We set off to the village, still un-named as of yet. The paved road soon turned to gravel. The gravel road turned to little more than a trail, I was amazed our bus made it this far. We finally got to a spot that was just large enough for the bus to turn around, “Here we are everyone.” Grabbing my backpack and walking off the bus, I was greeted with the image of a long footbridge that was eerily reminiscent of something out of Indiana Jones. Our group assembled at the entrance of the bridge, and our guide Norby instructed us that we had to walk about 15 feet apart, only ten people at a time. Stepping on the first planks, I realized that this was going to test my adversity to heights. I took a deep breath, and put one foot in front of the other. I couldn’t keep looking ahead, as there were a large amount of planks that were rotten or huge gaps between them. I tried as hard as I could to not look down at the water, and completely blocked out the beautiful scenery that was surrounding me. With a large amount of people on the bridge, it was swaying side to side.

We walked through the jungle down a narrow gravel road. We crossed a stream channel hopping from rock to rock, surprisingly everyone had kept dry. Norby our guide took a small path carved out of the jungle, and we walked single file line, penetrating the jungle. This small path winded around and soon we could hear the river in the distance getting closer with every step. We heard a hacking sound and came across two men hacking down some vegetation, clearing a plot for a future subsistence garden. The trail opened up and we were soon in the village of Sincha Pura.

This village was very small, yet was maintained more than the village of Huamani. There was a large open area that was cleared out. I quickly noticed the abundance of yellow grass in this area- sure sign of a Glyphosate (RoundUp) application. There was a large futball area and a small structure that served as the school. Overlooking the river was the open-air dining hall, on stilts and with palm fronds as the roof. This was as authentic as you can get.

There was another small covered porch down closer to the river, with hammocks strung up to catch a weary traveler. Off to the side of the village was a decent amount of huts on stilts- these were the ‘barracks’ where we’ll be staying. What, no dirt floors? They had very basic cots with insect nets above them- which only provided a limited amount of reassurance. Two cots and a candle per room, nothing more. Guess that’s all you need, right?

We dropped off our luggage and congregated in the dining hall, which also served a dual purpose as a meeting hall. We had a warm greeting by the head lady of the village and were welcomed to Sincha Pura. We had a quick discussion of the language, as they still speak the native tongue of Ketchuwa?. A few were bilingual and knew Spanish.

The class brought some school supplies for the children of the village. We went to the small school and provided the kids with some supplies... which brought out some nervous smiles.

Next on the agenda was learning about subsistence farming. We learned about their native crops and how they farmed in the Amazon. They integrated a variety of bananas, yucca and other crops into the landscape. We harvested some native tubers- which would be later served at dinner. A little later the group went down the river to another small hut and had a demonstration on cooking methods of Chincha- an alcoholic drink that was enjoyed by the villagers.

At this point, we noticed our group had grown by two fresh new faces. A man and a woman, I assumed European (we later found out they were French) were doing a documentary on eco-tourism in Ecuador, and this was one of the villages they were studying. We realized that we were soon being videotaped and photographed… a little unnerving at first but hey, whatever.

Back to the village we went, and had a little free time before dinner. I went upstream on the river and waded in the river, the fresh, cool water felt great in the humid environment. Soon it was time for dinner. We ate a soup and some presumably free range chicken that was tough as leather. I got some stuck in my teeth and had to use the string from a tea bag as floss to set it free.

After dinner, we had a presentation on the Shamanistic rituals and met the village medicine man. We took our chairs from the dining area and formed a circle and the shaman came out and sat in the middle. He explained the rituals and their medicinal use of Jimsonweed as a psychedelic. Their ‘trip’ could last days or weeks. Often times the subjects of the medicine man may never come back to reality from the Jimsonweed journey. He asked if anyone wanted to be ‘cleansed’ and a few in our group went for it. They took their chair out close to the shaman, took their shirts off and the shaman would drink some potion, and spit it out over their bodies and into their hair. This ritual was a cleansing experience. I considered getting myself a little cleansing myself, but stopped myself short.

Next we traversed the large area with our chairs and prepared ourselves for the next event- a traditional dance. Soon, men came out wearing little more than palm fronds and then girls of the village and women came out in quasi-traditional garments. The music soon started and the dance began. We were excited to share this amazing experience. The girls went back in the tiny hut and I could see them out peering at our group and laughing. Next thing we knew, Norby announced that they would like us to dance with them, and the girls ran out and picked their dance partners. Greg, David, Josh, Cannon and I were ‘selected’ and we went out and cut a rug. Soon, the entire place was dancing and we got Greg to show off some major dance moves. We taught them an important lesson, white men can’t dance. The dance was soon over and we retreated to our cabins. Pulling the insect net over me, I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep.

Around 4:00 in the morning, the scent of rain came associated with powerful thunder and lightning. I’ve seen bigger thunder and lightning storms at home in Shasta County, but keep in mind it was behind the comforts of an actual, not a hut. I spent a little time out on the porch of the hut, amidst the downpour and lightning. Watching the jungle light up with every bolt of lightning was a sight I’ll take to the grave. It wasn’t too long until I heard something very large rustling in the bushes nearby, so I quickly retreated to the hut and the comfort of my cot (which really didn’t offer much physical protection, more mental protection). I listened to the rain and eventually it put me to sleep.