Cultural Immersion

What a Minga and a Protest Taught Me About Collective Health

By: Sophie McManus, Carleton Extern ‘24

My time and work in Shandia have left me with lasting impressions of the community’s remarkable sense of solidarity. This began on one of our very first nights, when Shandia held a minga. A minga is a gathering of friends and neighbors who come together to work on a shared project for the benefit of the community, without expectation of payment. Similar to the concept of a barn-raising, mingas are rooted in the idea of mutual support and cooperation. They can involve anything from agricultural tasks to infrastructure improvements or even community clean-ups. Shandia held its December minga to prepare for the holiday season. This particular minga focused on hanging Christmas lights on the school and other buildings around the town. It was incredible to see how quickly and efficiently the work came together. In just a few hours, the town was transformed, glowing with colorful and festive lights. Beyond the physical results, the minga showcased the strength of Shandia’s communal ties and the pride they take in working together toward a shared goal.

The next morning, I arrived with my fellow externs at the senior center in Talag, a neighboring town. We were planning to assist in taking vital signs and conducting memory and cognition tests for the elders. After waiting around for a few minutes, it became clear no one was there. We asked around Talag to figure out what was happening. We were told the province’s main road was blocked and no buses could come through. Over the next few hours, we slowly pieced together what was going on. The government had proposed the construction of a maximum-security prison in Archidona, a town about 45 minutes away. Concerned about the prison’s implications for the area’s safety and security, the surrounding communities were implementing a paro, which translates literally to stop. Mounds of dirt had been piled onto major roads, bus drivers and teachers were on strike, and nearly all work in the area had come to a halt. Over the next week, the paro not only continued, but intensified, unfortunately leading to the cancellation of many of our planned externship activities. Despite the many inconveniences of the paro, the experience impressed on me the power of community organizing and collective action. Witnessing entire communities come together to voice their concerns and stand firm in their beliefs was a powerful reminder of the strength that lies in unity. The paro was not just a disruption; it was a testament to the deep connections among the people of this region and their shared determination to protect their way of life. While it brought unexpected challenges to our externship, it also offered a profound lesson about the power of standing together for a common cause.

Over the past two weeks of my work in public health, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the many dimensions of health: physical, mental, emotional, social, and more. Observing and working alongside the people of Shandia has offered me invaluable insights, both into their unique challenges and their remarkable strengths. While it’s evident that the community faces significant threats to physical health, such as malnutrition and infectious disease, I’ve been equally struck by the resilience and vitality of their social health. The solidarity, mutual support, and close-knit relationships I’ve observed in Shandia are a testament to the power of communal bonds, even in the face of adversity. Strong social health makes it possible for the community to come together in both celebration, as in the case of minga, and anger, in the form of the paro. As much of the world faces a so-called loneliness epidemic, these experiences have broadened my understanding of how collective action nurtures social bonds. Witnessing the ways in which the people of Shandia nurture and rely on one another has motivated me to prioritize building stronger, more meaningful social connections back home. It has reminded me that health is not just an individual journey but also a collective endeavor, deeply rooted in the strength of the communities we cultivate.

Interested in developing your professional skills in public health? Learn more about our programs here!

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.

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.