Green Minds Think Alike

Ecuador found me in a very unexpected way, sitting at the table of my host family in Auckland, New Zealand chatting about planting herbs while drinking the said herbs. The family I was staying with at the time did not consider themselves to have green thumbs, but by the end of my two weeks with them, we managed to create a small herb garden for their kitchen. 

I know a woman who owns the most incredible farm in Ecuador if you ever find yourself in that area. I am sure you two would get on.

I was very unsuspecting that nearly 8 months later, I would find myself exactly in the same farm in the coastal jungle of Ecuador. Something similarly happened to me as I was listening to a familiar podcast during a long day of weeding in the garden. I was caught by surprise as one episode of the podcast which focused on mental health, talked of the importance of the psychology behind gardening. Five months later, I found myself making holiday wreaths with the director of the program I had coincidentally heard on the podcast. 

The night of my arrival in Canoa, Ecuador, I held my hand up to my face to see if I could make out the outline of my fingers, but I could only feel the heat of my breath against my palms. I drew my flashlight out of my pocket to illuminate our way as another volunteer showed me to our dormitory. Martina, from Quito, Ecuador, frequently would visit Rio Muchacho when she was a young girl with her father. Our first order of business was putting a mosquito net over my bed as the choir of insects that hid in the jungle carpet just outside of our door sang and chirped. I remember well the scent of the jungle air and the sounds of the night from the time I spent in the jungle of Costa Rica, but nothing could have prepared me for the view I would see the next morning.

The only thing I explored the night of my arrival was the porch outside of our room where I could hardly make out the shapes of shrubs and palms against the black backdrop. When I stepped outside my door the next morning, a wave of emotion hit me as I could finally see the farm clearly. Immediately I began to recognize plants such as cacao, coffee, and plantains, ones I would never expect to see at home in Arkansas. The rush of excitement I feel when I witness a farm for the first time reminds why I seek just that: the feeling of purpose, or knowing that I am doing what I love.

Ecuador was vastly different from any other experience I have had thus far. There is something about living in the jungle. The life is tranquil; it is simply about coexisting. I have coexisted in many spaces during the past 8 months, but none of which felt as unique as this experience. Compost toilets; farm-to-table meals; collecting water from the river; worm farming; shrimp fishing; inspecting insects (sometimes in my hair); and, the least of all, parasites in my stomach. Being able to see the circular process of regeneration in Rio Muchacho Organic Farm demonstrated lessons to me that are unique to living in an ecological and well-recognized conservatory in the heart of the Ecuadorian jungle. On every wall hung certificates, awards, and degrees obtained by the owners, Nicola Mears and Dario Proano, who now live in New Zealand with their two children. 

Rio Muchacho is a 10 hectare farm that is internationally credited by organizations such as National Geographic for outstanding efforts in reforestation and eco-friendly tourism. For the two months I spent at Rio Muchacho, I worked alongside another volunteer to welcome tourists, as well as maintain the main garden where we sowed carrots, beets, cucumbers, beans, and radishes. Tourists came from all over the world, including Switzerland, Canada, Spain, France, and other parts of Latin America, many of which traveled to Ecuador solely to spend time at Rio Muchacho. While Martina shared about the culture and meaning behind the space, I shared my knowledge of microorganisms and different methods of composting. Together we made a fantastic team, and quickly we became good friends. An amazing part of Latin American culture is the desire to exchange: gifts, knowledge, stories, passion, food. In Rio Muchacho, we spent our evenings teaching one another anything and everything, from how to make jewelry to how to harvest a jackfruit. 

The climate is fascinating in this region as it sustains the farm with heaps of humidity and warmth 12 months of the year. At the time of my arrival, the dry season began, so we discarded the dried peanuts and replaced them with luscious brassicas, which would soon be covered in an effort to protect from leaf-cutter ants. I sowed seeds I have never seen in my life, such as the seed of a maracuya, and became addicted to asking the name and function of each plant. Living in a space with what feels to be an unlimited amount of flora and fauna revealed to me the strength of my desire to learn it all. One of my favorite parts of living in a food forest is that the harvest is bountiful year-round, so Martina and I found ourselves taking walks to the nearest fruit tree after a few hours of tilling and turning soil.

It was quite difficult for me to adjust from being back home in my everyday life to finding my footing once again in a foreign space. Oftentimes more than other countries in South America, foreigners and locals alike are told to take precaution in certain regions of Ecuador. In more rural communities, oftentimes agriculture is something people gravitate towards in order to make ends meet. The act of gardening is not considered a luxury, but a necessity. A difference in the approach of cultivation in Ecuador compared to New Zealand, Japan, and England, is that self-sufficiency is prioritized over aesthetics. The principles of permaculture do not exist to perfectly curate a garden with trimmed edges, but to regenerate the space in a way that mocks the natural order of the environment with pollinators, compost, and arguably the most important part: living with nature and not alongside it. 

Asking the plant for permission before harvest, humming the tune of a song to the seedlings, and meditating to the sound of the river became a part of my every day routine. For the first time in a while, I did not simply recognize the silence, I felt it. I could see it in the people around me too–the acceptance and understanding that nature is not something outside of themselves, but something intrinsically valuable. For many people I had the pleasure of meeting, agriculture was not solely a means of providing, but a passion passed from generation to generation. A young man from a nearby village shared with me his upbringing in his family’s farm, and how he remembered how small he felt in comparison to the plantains that reached meters above his head. He pointed to trees and herbs, identifying them by their names and uses, as his father once did for him. 

My Watson experience has been uniquely my own, and although there were moments where I doubted if I could stand back up on my own two feet, I proved myself wrong by remaining steadfast in my desire to learn and to exist outside of my own four walls. I feel grateful to share this part of my journey with you as I was unsure if my Watson journey would continue after unexpected and difficult news. I want to express my gratitude–how important it was for both me and my family–to be able to stand alongside my mother as she fought what seemed to be an impossible fight of stage 4 cancer. In my mind, there was no other option but to be with my family at this time, but still I thought of the possibility of a dream of mine coming to an end. To be able to continue my dream with full assurance that my mom is now stable has allowed me to travel again with confidence and passion, and without fear and confusion.

A lesson that I guard very closely in my heart is that although things have not gone as suspected this year, they have happened in a way that led me to exactly where I am now. After two months spent in harmony with the tierra and Pachamama, I am now sitting in the home of my dear friend from Rio Muchacho, Martina, who kindly welcomed me into her home to share her city and culture with me. I felt immediately at home here as the first night her mother prepared a special meal, “seco de pollo”, a traditional Quitano dish that is a favorite of Martina. Being surrounded by a family that is not my own, but treats me as if I were, has allowed me to truly feel as if I am not only seeing the country, but getting to know it. 

After five months in South America, I want to be fluent in Spanish. 

I wrote this in my journal just days before my flight to Quito as a manifestation and as accountability. Although I have taken Spanish classes for many years before traveling to Ecuador, living in a Spanish-speaking country is vastly different in not only teaching me how to speak Spanish, but how to express myself in Spanish. Upon arrival, I felt a lack of confidence in my ability to express myself in a way that I felt as if I could only express in my first language. However, after nearly three months, and many patient friends, I can confidently speak without the fear of error or embarrassment. 

The process of improving my Spanish has felt similar to the process from sow to harvest: slow, gradual, patient. At this time, I have been reading a book titled “Braiding Sweetgrass”, a novel that shares stories of Indigenous ecological knowledge and stories from the Potawatomi tribe of Oklahoma. The Potawatomi word for mushroom directly translates to “breaking through the soil overnight”. This image signifies to me resilience and resistance. I, too, feel as if I am a mushroom breaking through the soil, proving to myself that I am capable of becoming the person I seek to be. My Watson experience has allowed me to separate myself from everything I have ever known, and to be patient with my progress the same as I would with the carrots I sprinkled row after row. On one particular day, one of the local men handed me a seedling of ruda to sow. I confidently took the plant and began to prepare a space when he shared with me the cultural significance of this plant. He told me that whoever is to plant the ruda becomes spiritually intertwined with the plant forever. The task felt so large, but it was bestowed upon me and so I did it with caution and love, as if tucking in a child to sleep. 

The last part of my journey will conclude in Peru, volunteering with an environmental human rights organization and teaching English. I feel very grateful to experience the culture of Latin America through the lens of the natural world, giving back to her just as she has given to me.