A Tale of Two Freddies

Our trip to Ecuador was all about learning and solidarity. We were there to witness the damage done by transnational oil companies to this beautiful and complex ecosystem, to lay the framework for relationships between Indigenous communities threatened by oil extraction in Ecuador and in Canada, and to strategize with others facing similar situations in elsewhere in the world.

What I didn't really expect was a lesson in solidarity myself. Or that it would come in the form of two young men named Freddy.

Our "ToxiTour" of the Lago Agrio area was a joint visit by our group of international environmental and human rights activists and a group of youth and young adults, mostly Ecuadoran. Here we all are at the end of the ToxiTour.


To get to Lago Agrio, we had a 9-hour overnight bus ride and the thought of facing that with 30 enthusiastic people under the age of 30 made me, I'll admit, a little grumpy. But somehow we all fell asleep on the bus, slumbering through rain storms and (apparently) a series of mudslides, and arrived in Lago Agrio early in the morning.

After a quick rest and simple but hearty breakfast, we were off to see what oil extraction looked like. Cutting across a farmer's land to a tailings pond, we reached a long slope that we had to descend a few at a time to avoid arousing suspicion. Well, I came near the end of the line and the path was pretty slick. And this was the result.


Photos by Rachel Warden

Let me give you a bit more detail:

Photo by George Poitras

What I don't have a picture of is the poor young guy I took down with me. Freddy. As I started down the slope, it became clear that there wasn't much purchase left, just thick orange Amazonian mud with an edge of vegetation that had been pretty well trampled. So he came up to lend me a hand. It worked out well for about 30 seconds, and then down I went, taking Freddy with me. Once you're down, by the way, you might as well go with it. It was a nice slide in the mud, and on we went. A little while later, I caught up with Freddy again and touched his muddy shoulder, trying to brush off the mess. Which prompted him to turn and apologize to me for making me fall. No, no, it was me and you tried to help, I sputtered in Spanglish.

Later that afternoon, in the town of Pacayacu, another Freddy saw me taking pictures of birds and asked to look at my camera. I showed him a couple of things; he played around with it a bit and there was a joke about the long lens that really required no translation. The next day, in the Indigenous Cofan village that we visited, Freddy asked again for the camera, and I so I gave it to him. This is some of what he gave back.



Photos by Freddy Morryllo

How amazing to see this village through Freddy's eyes. It's not a wealthy village, it has suffered as a result of oil exploration, and in 1998 it succeeded in shutting down an oil well that it felt was poisoning the land and water. Now it's embroiled in a generational battle over whether to re-open the well. Some of the elders who once were against oil now might be thinking differently. You can see that struggle etched in peoples' faces.

Photo by Freddy Morryllo

Freddy captured that, but his pictures also captured the pure freedom and joy of the village's children. And there was a clear pride and joy in his face when he showed me these pictures.

Photo by Freddy Morryllo

Later that evening, the youth group left us to return Quito, while we continued on to the Yasuni. Everyone shared abrazos, but the two Freddies and I each exchanged un abrazo fuerte. I was grateful to have shared Freddy the photographer's vision...

That's Freddy, in the black shirt with green print and smiling on the gunwale of our canoa.

and the strength and goodness of Freddy who tried to help me out of a slippery spot.

And that's the other Freddy, in the orange shirt, getting into his own slippery spot -- felled trees full of fire ants.

When I said goodbye to Freddy my rescuer, I asked Rachel to translate as I thanked him again for his help. No, no, he said, you don't need to translate; I know what she is trying to say; I can see it in her face.

Who needs language when faces, actions, and gestures tell you all you need to know?