PrintI recently visited the rural community of San Clemente de Ibarra, where I had the opportunity to share in indigenous Ecuadorian lifestyle and understanding. In the process, I gained a better understanding of how indigenous Ecuadorians have historically been under-represented and mistreated. The mainstream government overwhelmingly gives preference to the interests of urban, Mestizo people and adheres to “modern” thought and tradition.
Until recently, many rural indigenous communities were plagued by the hacienda system, which predominantly wealthy European and Mestizo estate owners used to exploit their resources, land, and labor. Like many parts of the world where populations were oppressed by European colonial systems, Ecuador is still afflicted by a racist colonial psychology that values western culture and genotype the most and native culture and blood the least.
Long after Ecuador gained its independence from Spain, indigenous people were still being disrespected and disenfranchised by the national government. Those who were illiterate or did not speak Spanish did not gain the right to vote until 1979. Many internalized the racist mentality that their culture is inferior to the European ideal, and few people would have identified themselves as “indigenous” with pride.
In 1986, however, the indigenous people rallied to form the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE) and began to take action so their collective voice would be heard by the Mestizo population. The movement, called el levantamiento, has helped to unite Ecuador’s 14 unique indigenous nations, each of which has its own language, culture and territories. CONAIE has succeeded in securing legally recognized titles for ancestral territory, posing opposition to oil companies who have purposefully or inadvertently destroyed communal lands, and legalizing bilingual public schools where children may learn in Spanish as well as their traditional language.
San Clemente de Ibarra is a beautiful pueblo of about 200 Kichwas, located at the foot of the Imbabura Volcano. Like many indigenous communities, the people of San Clemente suffered under the ownership of a wealthy haciendero, who forced them to work for little more than food and shelter. The current town leader can still picture his father being whipped by one of the haciendero’s men for working too slowly, and remembers when the workers decided to strike and reclaim their ancestral lands and resources.
Despite years of exploitation, the people of San Clemente have retained much of their culture through language, music, religious ceremonies, clothing, and agricultural lifestyle. The women of the community wear colorful, home-embroidered dresses, the men wear ponchos, and nearly all of the adults wear the now-traditional felt-brimmed hats.
I stayed for four days with the hospitable Pupiales family, made up of Matias, Magdalena, and their four children Inti (14), Sumak (12), Flor Sabina (10) and Eddie (7). Matias built their house, which sits surrounded by farm animals, alongside the single cobbled road that runs about a mile up the slope of the volcano, through all of San Clemente to the town meetinghouse, church and school.
Each morning Inti and Sumak wake up at five. They walk up the hill to get milk from a neighbor’s cows and to collect eggs from the Pupiales’ dozen chickens before heading off to school. Magdalena cooks breakfast tortillas over smoldering embers, and then wakes the two younger children so they can eat and catch a bus to school. Matias leads the llamas and sheep out to the field, then takes a bus to his job in the valley below.
On Saturday night, Inti and Sumak climbed the hill through the darkness to attend a weekly reunion where town members discuss common issues and vote on possible solutions. The topic of the night was the absence of bilingual education in the elementary school. Bilingual education in Ecuador was legalized and began receiving federal funding in 1989, but communities such as San Clemente still have difficulty finding teachers who have received government approval to teach in indigenous languages.
During my stay, I spoke Spanish with the Pupiales family, but the adults often spoke Kichwa with one another. The children understand the Kichwa of their parents, but are not fluent. Many indigenous parents and community leaders are worried that without better bilingual education, their languages will lose relevance and die out. And without the oral tradition of their own language, the elders will not be able to pass on their knowledge of their culture and history to the next generation. Losing Kichwa and Andean indigenous tradition seemed much more likely, however, before levantamiento strengthened the fight for equality in the late 1980’s.
I saw such pride in the Puipiales children when they eagerly showed me pictures of Inti Raymi, the annual indigenous religious “festival of the sun,” and invited me to return and join the celebration in late June. The adults were also proud to share other traditions and ceremonies with our group. On our second day in San Clemente, we all joined to perform a Pachamanka, which is a feast of maiz, platanos, potatoes, and meats cooked in a deep hole in the ground filled with red-hot stones. As the food cooked for hours, we played music and danced over the mound of dirt that covered the oven.
Not only have indigenous communities begun to revive traditions that were oppressed during the colonial and post-colonial eras, but many have also begun to host small groups of tourists and students, such as ours, to share in their culture. As long as such interactions with visitors from “western” societies remain mutually respectful, and as long as bilingual education programs continue to improve, I believe Ecuador’s indigenous nations will not only retain their language and tradition, but will continue to create new culture and art, in dialogue with the Mestizo community and with the rest of the world.