What Protests and Community Taught Me in the Amazon

By: Gabe Nichols, Carleton Extern ‘24

Over the past two weeks that I’ve spent here in the community of Shandia, I’ve learned so much and become more conscious of specific aspects of life that are both common and uncommon to my past experiences living in the United States. I came to volunteer for Manna Project International as a youth development extern and almost immediately encountered challenges that have helped shape my awareness of the problems people face in Ecuador and worldwide. Importantly, while being here I have also encountered many positive aspects present in the community of Shandia which are desperately needed elsewhere and should be followed.

As a youth development extern, my role involved working with the children in Shandia and also originally involved shadowing the youth development program director as he worked in the local school. However, for most of my first week in the community, the students were taking exams so I was unable to sit in on their English classes. While disappointing, I didn’t think this would be a problem because classes would resume the following week. However, as my first week in the community was coming to an end, organized protests broke out within the province over plans to build a maximum security prison in the town of Archidona near Tena. As a result, travel within the region, even between Tena and Shandia became extremely difficult because of man-made roadblocks that had been formed in protest of these plans. Owing to this, school was canceled and did not resume the following week because teachers were unable to travel to work and people across various industries had chosen to go on strike.

I had hoped to be able to witness the process of teaching English at the school in Shandia, yet these unforeseen circumstances weren’t completely negative. These events helped strengthen views I already possessed before coming to Ecuador and led me to realizations that I hadn’t previously reached. As a political science major, the events surrounding the protests against the planned prison construction in Archidona have been fascinating to me, and I was extremely impressed by the rapid coordination it must have taken to organize all of the people who took part in the protests around in the province and created roadblocks in such a short amount of time. Mobilizing the various groups involved in this political action only a few days after possessing widespread knowledge of these plans would have been no small undertaking. Especially after coming to the community of Shandia, I realized the importance of community and the friendliness present within indigenous Kichwa culture. When passing on a street, meeting in a home, or just going about one’s day in the community everyone’s presence is acknowledged, and it is expected that you shake hands and greet anyone you cross paths with. This consciousness of the importance of community and the accompanying close social bonds that come with it I’m certain had to have played a large part in the successful mobilization seen within the protests here.

While it remains unseen if the protests will be successful in preventing this construction, seeing the lived experience of people here has firmly made me believe that the emphasis on community and the acknowledgment of all within a community occurring in Shandia are cultural practices that should be adopted elsewhere and are badly needed in the United States. In my view, these seem to be actions almost essential for greater human flourishing to exist in the world. These recent events have also made me continue to recognize the importance of realizing an education that is accessible to all, as well as the challenges to this realization. Particularly in rural areas in Ecuador and the world, accessing education can become very difficult since the resources present in more isolated areas are slim. Additionally, in rural areas like Shandia, some teachers do not live directly in the community. When it is difficult to travel to an area where one teaches (such is the case with the roadblocks) the educational access of an entire community is diminished. Living in Shandia during this school cancellation has made me better understand the challenges children face in accessing education in rural areas especially due to their remoteness. While these events sound like a mixed bag, they have also made me better appreciate the work Manna Project does for children in the community through after-school programs such as the art program. Despite the cancellation of school, children were able to receive free educational lessons through this program while also being able to express themselves creatively.

I’ve found no easy way to sum up my experience externing for Manna Project that fully captures everything that I’ve learned from living here in Shandia (which explains why I’m kinda rambling in this blog post), but I do have a few key takeaways. Over the past two weeks, I’ve encountered cultural practices that I believe to be essential for people to live harmoniously and with dignity, I’ve grown to better understand struggles related to education accessibility and I’ve been afforded the opportunity to see the important work Manna does for the children of Shandia. Externing here instead of going to some dusty office in the United States is not something I will easily forget and I am very grateful I was privileged enough to come and learn from Manna Project International and the community of Shandia.

Building Trails & Connections in Shandia

By: Liam Atkins

Coming to Ecuador I knew I would love working on eco trails. I have plenty of past experience working on trail maintenance and construction, mostly from volunteering to build mountain biking trails in my home state Colorado. I didn’t know what to expect coming to Ecuador to work on trails, if anything I expected it to be similar to working back in Colorado. I was entirely incorrect. Trail in Spanish is sendero, but sendero has a different meaning in Ecuador. Some work on a sendero involved what I thought it would, digging and moving dirt to build new trails, but a lot of work on the sendero was helping create lodges and trail systems where tourists would stay.

Much of this work involved collecting materials such as water and sand for concrete or rocks to create a path. What was especially rewarding about this work is how appreciative the owners of the sendero were. What was seemingly simple work went a long way and even spending just 1 or 2 hours helping collect materials made a difference in progress for the overall project. The owners even went as far as to make us lunch and repeatedly asked us to come back and work more when we had free time. I felt like the locals appreciated my work and wanted me to keep coming back to help more.

Working on the sendero also gave me a chance to practice my Spanish. As a Spanish beginner, being thrown into a workplace where I am forced to speak and understand the language was daunting. But the other workers were very understanding and I was able to strike up a basic, but meaningful, conversation where I learned about the locals hopes for the sendero as well as stories about living in Shandia and Ecuador as a whole. The language barrier between me and the rest of Shandia was something I was worried about but people were incredibly understand about my limited speaking abilities and some even wanted to practice their English with me as I practiced my own Spanish.

How kind and welcoming the people in Shandia are has been the most rewarding part of my time here in Ecuador. From the kids always saying hello and asking me to go hang out with them to everyone I worked with as a sustainability external being friendly and thankful for my help, spending time in Shandia and working with the community has been one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. I was nervous traveling to Shandia, not speaking much Spanish and unsure of what my time would be like, but after the first day of my time here, where I was invited to play equivolley in the town center, I felt like I was at home in the community and knew that my time here would be great. Day after day I met more and more lovely people, either spending time in the community or working on the senderos, and I am happy to leave knowing I helped progress a few projects and made countless friends here in Shandia.

Interested in working on senderos in the Amazon? Check out our short term volunteer options here.

Mining and the Amazon: The Economic and Environmental Impact in Ecuador

By: Ivana Lakov, Virtual Intern ‘25

Spanning 6.7 million square kilometres and accounting for over a third of tropical rainforests, the Amazon rainforest truly is an ecological wonder. The forest hosts 10% of all known wildlife species and over 20% of known plants, with a new species being discovered approximately every other day. Ecuador alone, despite containing only 1-2% of the Amazon, hosts about a fifth of the different plant species found in the total rainforest!

 It’s no surprise that the Amazon rainforest is the major source of life for everyone around it, including people. Much of the diverse flora found in the rainforest is a cornerstone of natural medicine, and many native plants are harvested in the wild or grown in farms. With as much as a third of Ecuadorians working in the agriculture sector, agroforestry (and other kinds of sustainable farming) is often the backbone of local economies. The Amazon is also a major contributor to ecotourism, which provides seasonal revenue for locals and gives visitors the opportunity to experience the Amazon in a low-impact way.

Unfortunately, everything the Amazon rainforest sustains - nature, people, and most of all the local economy - is under threat. In recent years, mining, both legal and not, has caused more than 1.4 million hectares of deforestation throughout the Amazon, much of it taking place in indigenous lands. Traditionally, mining has mostly been an issue in the Brazilian part of the rainforest, causing up to 10% of total deforestation; in recent years, it’s spread to other parts of the Amazon, including Ecuador.

Mining, particularly illegal mining, has the potential to destroy the Amazon, with effects that extend far beyond the extraction site. Air pollution is common, as well as contamination of land and water. These effects - combined with the deforestation inevitably accompanying mining sites - mean devastation for the local economy. Extensive contamination means that people can no longer rely on the Amazon’s biological resources for any kind of work. Mining can severely limit farming possibilities, as pollution, loss of biodiversity, and depletion of viable land all make for a much more difficult environment. These effects also ruin any ecotourism opportunities in affected areas through its destruction of the natural environment.

Altogether, these consequences have derailed the economies of countless Ecuadorian communities, forcing many people to look for other sources of profit. It’s often necessary for people to join environmentally destructive industries such as petroleum extraction, monocultural farming, or mining itself. These industries, in turn, continue the cycle of damaging economies elsewhere, causing even more destruction to the environment, livelihoods- and also local culture.

Alongside flora and fauna, the Amazon is home to 1.5 million indigenous people and nearly 400 groups across the nine countries it covers. This includes over 300,000 indigenous people in Ecuador, made up of 14 nationalities and more than 20 languages.

The Amazon has always been intrinsically linked to Ecuadorian culture and traditional practices. For example, chakras, a type of small-scale farm, are traditionally used by Ecuador’s Kichwa people and contribute to general agroforestry methods in the Amazon. Chakras promote biodiversity and allow for economic freedom for locals, as their owners can make a profit selling crops. Foods grown on these farms, like yucca and plantains, are staples, in addition to wildlife used in hunting and fishing. But because of pollution and shrinking ecosystems, Indigenous societies are in decline. Mining and deforestation are some of the biggest threats to these traditional lifestyles.

Luckily, Manna Project is facing these problems head-on. Beginning in January 2025, the RAÍZ (Regeneración Agrícola e Innovación en Zonas Rurales) program aims to support the Amazonian Shandia community through environmental preservation and sustainable agricultural practices, both traditional and modern. The program’s initiatives are implemented through hands-on trainings and workshops, with goals like crop diversification and climate resilience. 

Volunteer work on chakras is another significant aspect of Manna Project’s work in the Shandia community, tying into RAÍZ’s ambitions of sustainable economic opportunity within Ecuadorian villages. In 2025, RAÍZ will include 30 farmers - impacting up to 150 people - in its program, while chakra work and other programs are ongoing. Other projects help preserve ecotourism in Shandia through trail maintenance and restoration.

There is no denying that Ecuador faces a difficult task in reclaiming its local economies from harmful industry. But Manna Project International’s initiatives - through their development of environmentally responsible self-sufficiency - can make the challenge that much less daunting.

Mental Health in the Amazon: Reflections from a Volunteer in Shandia

By: Lily Sutherland, Intern ‘25

 Mental health has been a topic of interest for me since my early teens when I first witnessed how the challenges brought on by anxiety, depression, chronic stress, and other psychological conditions affected the lives of those around me who were struggling. I quickly learned about resources like talk therapy, support groups, and medication that are available in schools and healthcare systems to promote better mental health.

In college, I studied psychology and came to understand the pervasive, cross-cultural nature of mental illness, learning that people all over the world, regardless of nationality, age, gender, or lifestyle can experience what I had seen first hand in my friends and family. Often, mental illness not only reshapes individual livelihoods, but also poses a legitimate threat to communities. 

What initially drew me to the Manna Project was the opportunity to work with community members to develop mental health initiatives. As a short-term volunteer, I knew that two months would not be nearly enough time to do more than lay the foundation for a larger mental health project, but I was still hopeful that my efforts would have an impact. Upon arrival, I was surprised by the few resources and limited knowledge of mental health, despite its pressing significance in the community. 

In rural communities like Shandia, many resources, including access to physical health services—let alone mental health services—are limited. As the people here live different lives than those I am accustomed to in the United States, the challenges they face also differ. When confronted with finding medical care for a sick family member, providing food for one’s children to stave off anemia and malnutrition, or worrying about illegal mining operations compromising precious natural resources, mental health often falls low on the list of priorities. 

The people of Shandia have many reasons to feel anxious, stressed, depleted, and depressed, just like the rest of us. However, without resources to help combat mental illness or even spread awareness, many turn to alcohol and other substances to self-medicate. Unfortunately, this only exacerbates mental illness symptoms, increases the occurrence of alcohol-related injuries and deaths, and decreases productivity—limiting how people can show up for one another and the community. Similarly, rates of suicide in Shandia and surrounding communities seem to be on the rise, especially among teens and young adults.

As a volunteer without the proper education or tools to address these issues directly, I struggled to find ways to introduce the concept of mental health to the community in a manner that would be well-received, while being mindful of the culturally unique stigmas surrounding the topic and my position as a foreigner. With the help of my fellow volunteers, who spent time working with local health centers and carefully developing relationships in the community, I constructed an informational mental health poster aimed at spreading awareness and providing basic techniques to care for mental health. The poster focused on simple tools to promote mental well-being that required no materials or specialized resources and highlighted the risk factors and basic causes of mental illness.

With the assistance of another volunteer, I presented the poster to a class of 15 and 16-year-olds at the local school in Shandia. As a follow-up, I asked the students to take an anonymous survey to gain a better understanding of their mental health and the systems in place to support them. The responses shed light on a need for greater emotional support within families and friendships, as well as within the school and broader community. Although the survey cannot be used to make assumptions or predictions about the population of Shandia, it provides valuable insights into mental health as a larger conversation. The need for a better support system is evident, and it starts with dialogue and more education to facilitate one.

Although my poster seemed like a drop in the bucket toward establishing a mental health curriculum that could genuinely benefit the community, I am hopeful it can serve as a building block for future volunteers. During the two months I have spent here, the people of Shandia have continued to amaze me with their resilience, resourcefulness, kindness, and ability to welcome me into their lives. My hope for them is to come together as a community to support those struggling with mental illness and find ways to uplift one another as a means of preserving their culture, livelihoods, and overall ability to live meaningful lives.

Interested in furthering work in mental health in the amazon?

Learn more about ways to get involved here!

About the Author

Lily Sutherland is an intern with Manna Project International in the winter of 2025. Originally from New York City, Lily holds a degree in Psychology and Strategic Communications from Miami University. She joined MPI after spending a year in corporate recruitment and several months traveling and volunteering across Europe. With experience in community service, permaculture, and cross-cultural collaboration, Lily is passionate about intentional living, public health, and immersive learning experiences that prioritize mutual respect and local leadership.

Carnaval in the Amazon: Water Fights, Foam Guns, and Community Joy in Shandia

By: Heidi Ho, Program Coordinator, Spring ‘25

EARLY FEBRUARY 2025

I was carrying an empty Tia bag full of bathroom trash to the blue bin outside our Talag home, when I saw Yuleisy and Jaymar, two neighborhood kids running towards me. They were carrying 2 buckets full of water and ready to attack their next victim, who I hoped wasn’t me. I had just showered with cold water–thank you jungle life–and was enjoying feeling fresh and dry, feelings that are rare in Amazonian humidity. 

“CARNAVAL! CARNAVAL!” they screamed, running towards me with mischievous grins, each strike of their approaching shark flip-flops growing louder. Carnaval wouldn’t begin until early March. I was confused, "Are they celebrating a whole month early?"

I had heard about Carnaval through the vague mutterings of excited community members and the solemn warnings of Manna staff, but I didn’t know what I was in for. All I knew was that the whole country would let loose for four days of grandiose celebration and indulgence. 

“Ay no por favor, acabo de bañarme,” stumbling as I spoke. I was milliseconds away from being soaked by my two excited child neighbors, when in the knick of time their mothers stopped them. My shoulders relaxed and I sighed a sigh of relief. 

HISTORY

Carnaval is derived from the spanish words “carne vale” which translates to “farewell to meat.” Rooted in Catholicism, Carnaval takes place during the days leading up to Lent, during which people feast, party and indulge before they have to give something up for Lent. Although Shandia is a primarily evangelical community, the entire region has kept the Latin tradition, which has indigenous Andean, African and European roots. 

While each region celebrates in their own unique way, almost every one participates in one way or another. While not everyone participates in the more extreme activities that are more rough and dirty, it is a great excuse to spend time with family and friends, especially because school is cancelled. 

FAST FORWARD TO MARCH 1-4 2025

The morning of March 1st I was preparing for war. In Shandia specifically, the most common weapons of choice are water, foam, flour, eggs and colored powder.I took me and my five dollar bill to a local shop and bought me and my host siblings all Carioca foam guns. With our ammo, we headed into the battlefield where we would find other fellow volunteers, friends and community members. 

As soon as we got to the beach where festivities were being held, all restraint let loose. Once we spotted people we knew, we attacked them with foam. By the end of the day, I was a soaking wet colorful mess. 

Little did I know that was just the beginning, because the next day was about to be much more intense. No one is safe during Carnaval, because even strangers become predators. I was the victim of a five foot water cannon. 

Additionally, my housemate and colleague Leo bought flour, and he made it clear to me that I was a target. He made sure that when my hair was wet to rub flour into each individual strand, creating dough. I did, eventually, get him back with my foam gun. 

But there is so much more to Carnaval than just battlefare. Throughout all the chaos, there were local and surrounding groups that sang and danced. One of my favorite dances were the traditional Kichwa dances, which were performed by the women of the Shandia community. 

It was a unique period of time where I saw the community come together. No one was worried about anything, and just let go. 

As I walked home, I was exhausted. But, right by the door entrance were Yuleisy and Jaymar, ready for another battle.

Curious what it’s like to experience Carnaval as an intern abroad?
Join us in the Amazon for a meaningful, immersive volunteer experience. Learn more here!

About the Author

Heidi Ho is a public health and journalism student at Northeastern University completing an international co-op experience with Manna Project International in the Ecuadorian Amazon. As MPI’s Public Health Program Coordinator, she supports community-based initiatives while gaining hands-on experience in global health and Spanish for healthcare. Originally from McAllen, Texas, Heidi is passionate about cultural immersion, language learning, and community wellness. When she’s not working, she enjoys trying new foods, dancing, and playing the piano.