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.

How the RAÍZ Program is Transforming Rural Amazonian Agriculture for a Sustainable Future

By: Mary Dimyan, Program Coordinator Spring ‘25

On February 11, MPI inaugurated the RAÍZ program (Regeneración Agrícola e Innovación en Zonas Rurales), an initiative dedicated to agricultural regeneration, conservation, and economic empowerment. This event brought together community members, local leaders, and partner organizations with aims of creating sustainable change. The launch of RAÍZ marks a significant step, providing communities with the necessary tools and knowledge to create resilient and self-sufficient agricultural practices.

The RAÍZ program plans to address challenges faced by rural Amazonian communities by integrating traditional farming methods with modern farming practices. As illegal mining and deforestation in the area continue to threaten both the local environment and the livelihoods of its residents, RAÍZ attempts to show an alternative path that prioritizes restoration, food security, and economic stability. The program will enhance agricultural productivity while preserving biodiversity by reintroducing native fruit trees, implementing sustainable beekeeping (centered around the endangered Melipona stingless bee), and by providing locals with alternative sources of income. Doing so will reduce reliance on extractive industries, particularly illegal mining, and thereby the toll it takes on the area. 

One of the core objectives of RAÍZ is skill building, ensuring that community members are equipped with the knowledge and skills to independently implement what they have learned. The program involves 30 families from Shandia and neighboring Talag, offering them hands-on workshops, technical training, and resources to improve or create gardens. Manna is working in collaboration with Ikiam University, the Kamana Pacha Foundation, and WorldVision, organizations whose expertise in environmental conservation, agroforestry, and community development will be essential for the success of the program. 

Representatives from Manna Project opened the event with discussions on the program’s long-term vision, emphasizing the importance of environmental stewardship and sustainable economic alternatives, followed by representatives from Kamana Pacha. Community members and local farmers participated in sessions where they shared their prior agricultural experiences and hopes for the program. The discussions showed the need for an approach that includes both modern techniques and the agricultural traditions of the Kichwa people. With unemployment affecting a large portion of the Shandia community and over 80% of residents living below the poverty line, RAÍZ offers a set of steps toward financial stability. The program demonstrates how cooperative farming models, market access strategies, and entrepreneurial training can help farmers maximize the value of their crops. Partnerships with regional and national organizations will provide access to new markets, increasing the profitability of products.

At the conclusion of the inauguration, participants and organizers outlined the next steps for the program. Over the coming months, the first series of hands-on workshops will take place. Participating families will learn about agroforestry techniques, soil conservation methods, and sustainable crop diversification strategies. As it evolves, assessments will be conducted to measure impact, ensuring that it continues to meet the needs of the community effectively. The collaboration inherent to the program will remain central to RAÍZ’s growth, because sustainable development is always most successful when driven by the communities it seeks to serve.

About the Author

Mary joined Manna Project International in January 2025. Originally from New York City, she is studying Environmental and Sustainability Sciences at Northeastern University with a minor in International Affairs. Passionate about environmental research and community engagement, she is excited to contribute to MPI’s mission in Ecuador. On site, she has taken a leadership role on sustainability initiatives, including the inaugural RAÍZ Program.

From USA to Shandia: Embracing Slow Living and Community in the Ecuadorian Amazon

From USA to Shandia: Embracing Slow Living and Community in the Ecuadorian Amazon

Leo Saunders, a Program Coordinator with Manna Project International, reflects on his first three weeks in Ecuador, navigating cultural differences, teaching in local schools, and embracing life in the Amazon.

How I Thrived in Ecuador’s Amazon Without Speaking Spanish

How I Thrived in Ecuador’s Amazon Without Speaking Spanish

I feared my lack of Spanish would hold me back during the externship—but instead, it pushed me to connect in new ways. Simple phrases, shared work, and warm community invitations made me feel less like an outsider and more like a part of something bigger.