I arrived at the estancia yesterday afternoon, after two long days on a bus from Chaiten to Coyhaique to Val Chac. About two hours after my arrival, we were joined by our latest guests: Tom and Jenny, a really nice couple from New York with their 13-month-old daughter Sofia. They'll be here for a week, exploring the park and getting some fresh air away from the bustle of the Big Apple. The same day that they leave, we're expecting a large group of photographers on tour around the area with Jonathan, a Colorado transplant who runs an adventure tour company in the area. This group will take over for a night, and then there are no more visitors on the horizon for the rest of the season. Being within three and a half weeks of the end of my current travels is a weird feeling; going home seems imminently close and yet immensely far away, seeing as I've been gone for almost seven months. I'm looking forward to returning and seeing my dear family and friends (and my kitty!) but I'll miss this place as well. The drive from Coyhaique yesterday couldn't have been a better reminder of the original reason that drew me here...the sky was blue, spotted with a few puffy white clouds, lending light to illuminate the red and yellow leaves of the lenga trees as they climbed from the lips of sparkling turquoise lakes up towards the rugged snow-capped peaks of the Andes; all this, while sitting next to an old waso (a type of rancher) who remarked that my camera was a "tremenda maquina" (tremendous machine). Between yesterday and today, I've gotten warm welcomes back from everyone I've seen, and I can't help but smile at the fact. It's nice to feel that I've created a community here and made an impression on people; it alleviates some of the separation I feel happens as a result of working in the lodge all the time without interacting much with the other workers on the estancia.
My time out of Val Chac definitely helped me get some perspective on things here, and it was interesting to be able to compare this park, in its baby stages, with one that's been up and running for a few years (more on this in the Pumalín post). Lilly (the volunteer coordinator intern) and I have talked about the ups and downs of this project many times, and moreso in the past couple weeks since we were on vacation together. While I'm still piecing things together in my mind, the basic conclusion that she and I have both come to is that while we see that what's happening now on the estancia is flawed in many ways, it has enormous potential to be something incredible in a few years' time. It's something of the classic case of talking from an ivory tower, where the people who thought up the whole operation are wholly disconnected from those running it on the ground, and are consequently oblivious to the needs of their workers. The irony of their house on the hill above the estancia is lost on none of us, and in some ways helps put this disconnect into a physical form: the jefes live in a beautiful "castle on a hill" while the rest reside at their feet, in the same way that the jefes dream up a beautiful national park project without considering the practical side of the effort (like providing decent living conditions and competitive salaries, and fostering goodwill and useful skills within the surrounding community).
My sense of it is that we're faced with a choice, as we will continue to be for the remainder of our lives: either take the easy road and avoid associating ourselves with something inherently good but, in practice, flawed, or decide that it's worth all our work and time and energy to help to change it for the better. Why, might you ask, should we take the hard road? And why should it be us, two gringuitas, and not Chileans? The answer is simple, and one that we keep coming back to: we care about what happens here; we care about the land and the people and the success of the project, and we have something valuable to contribute. As my mama brilliantly put in an email,
Working with [them] doesn't make their conservation efforts worthless because they don't understand the human dynamic they encounter. Their cause is worthwhile, but it isn't churning at the highest functioning level because of their lack of ability to work with all of the players involved in their efforts. You grasp a part of the "teamwork" that they don't get, but they also grasp a piece of the work that you may not understand (working with donors, motivating investments, etc). That is why it takes a team to accomplish big things... And that is why you have valuable skills and understanding to offer them. At the same time, don't buy into the idea that you are somehow indebted to them or have to make all of your judgments based on their values. Instead, challenge them to keep growing and to consider aspects of their project that weren't obvious to them when they started.
And give them some kudos....they have done a wonderful thing in protecting these lands... they just need to take it to another level.
At some point, each of us have to choose what our fight in life will be, and then hold on for the long haul; having an emotional investment in the outcome of that fight legitimizes all the work we'll face. As a testament to this and our (unintentional) attachment to this place, Lilly and I have both asked to return for the next season, in our respective positions, with the idea that we'd also work together on the side to improve the things we are unhappy with. Regardless of the outcome, it's been a big lesson for us to learn, that we'd rather join the team and do what we can to effect a change, and that we have valuable skills and ideas that make us desirable team members.
So here's to returning to places we've left, because in returning is when we appreciate the lot we have in life.
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