Looking up to the sky, to the layers of white, thin clouds, blending into one another and into the sun, forming an orange-red glow. There's something different about the sky here. When you look up, it's like it never ends. The sky seems so limitless.

With a soft handshake or kiss on the cheek, Ecuadorian love is deep, beautiful, and everywhere. Urban graffiti is decorated with colors, friendship, and teenage love confessions. Everyone is your neighbor, your tia, your pana.

I felt this powerful, but subtle love when I stayed with a family in San Jose, a strong, united Kichwa community where Gracie, another winter intern, and I participated in artisan workshops by their women's group. Their door is always open, and it's difficult to keep it closed for long when four of their seven children live only a few feet away. Their children, their grandchildren, and even their great-grandchildren all live together in harmony. It reminds me a lot of college (with much better food) where I live in a house of 70+ loud, loving women who are my second family, where there was always someone around to just sit down next to and just be, together. In this warm household in San Jose, I felt so much love and affection under one roof. Ronnie was teaching me some cool card tricks, while Freddy ran around with the biggest personality I've ever seen from a two and a half year old, while Saria remarkably hung onto my leg so I would spin her around. The older girls and mothers always included me in conversations and we all made fun of the children (or me) together. It is incredible to live in a house full of mothers. Even Don Bartolo, the only grown man in the house, hung around with all the ladies, joking around, taking care of the children, and cooking. If I were in the United States reading about this situation before my Runa internship, I would have negatively remarked on the societal role of women in the household, their low income, etc. But I didn't feel any of that here. These women are loud, funny, and beautiful. No matter what, there is always delicious plantains and a cooked meal for anybody who walks in the door. They voiced their thoughts and concerns together. These women empowered themselves in any way they could by forming a women's artisan group, spending time together, loving one another, which something that I needed to learn and appreciate.

And I can't forget the lessons I learned from the beautifully unique "Runa family" which, after this internship, earned its name. Runa works long, hard hours, and yet still manage to joke around with one another and go for beers after work. Maybe it's their passion or too much time spent together, but I don't think any other office is as kindhearted and loving as this Archidona office. These wonderful people make this office feel like a home away from home.

To feel this air, to see this beauty (when Carnaval foam isn't stinging your eyes) - it's unbelievable that I was really here. It's been truly a blessing. Although I'm ready for the next chapter of my life, honestly, it's so hard to leave this place. As often as my feelings have changed about work or interests, all I know is that in Ecuadorian Amazon, the sky, the possibility to do something good, is limitless.

I have lived in the community of Santa Rita for more than five months now as a Global Citizen Year Fellow working with Runa. Runa put me to the task of working with the community to develop a GIS-based map that delineates areas of conservation and production to help Santa Rita in its planning for agricultural growth. Santa Rita lies at the base of the Andes mountains where they meet the Amazon Basin, and is a biodiversity hotspot resting in the Sumaco Biosphere region. Next to Santa Rita is the Colonso Protected Forest, a reserve of approximately 10,000 hectares "managed" by the Ministry of Environment, although every person I spoke with in Santa Rita while working on the project had no idea it was government-owned, because they had never seen any sort of “forest management” there.

Community events in Kichwa communities are highlighted by extensive citizen participation. Living in Santa Rita and watching my host father, Patricio Andy, interact with the community has been a rewarding foray into the Kichwa democratic process of massive village-wide assemblies. Throngs of people eager to be heard and discuss problems facing the community take turns speaking over the course of day-long asembleas, and ever so often guest speakers are in attendance. Runa attended the February 3rd assembly in Santa Rita to present our recently-completed GIS map of Bosque Colonso, a large rainforest preserve stretching between the towns of Tena, Archidona, and a number of Kichwa communities.

That morning after preparing our presentation at the office, I returned to my community with Eliot, Cass, Alexandra, fellow volunteers Grace and Catherine, and fellow Global Citizen Year compatriots Kirin and Andy to present the fruits of Runa's recent work. I started my presentation with a bit of Kichwa, my linguistic limit being the equivalent of “Good afternoon friends, my name is Chacho. Thank you all!”

Alexandra and I discussed the project, our goals in regards to its application, and how we believe it will be useful for the community members. Francisco Andy, the principal of the Santa Rita elementary school and a dynamic public speaker commanding much respect in the village, translated everything into Kichwa for the community members who have limited Spanish vocabularies. In addition, we gave a special thanks to Wilson Andy, the Santa Rita representative on the farmer's association and an invaluable partner in the project. Wilson took the majority of the map's dozens of GPS points on a number of expeditions deep into the forest, and without his help and immense knowledge of the landscape, the project would have taken much longer to complete.

I joined Wilson on one of his expeditions into Colonso to take GPS points, and it was one of the scariest and yet most transformative experiences of my time in Ecuador thus far. We planned a twelve-hour trip: six hours up the mountains and into the forest, a night spent on a small ranchito, and six hours back. However, it turned into a three-day whirlwind. We walked (by Wilson's and the GPS's calculations) over 35 kilometers through puro bosque, or pure forest, getting lost at several instances, running out of food halfway through, and making it back at 2 a.m. on the third day. Although I was terrified, the biodiversity of Amazonian Ecuador was finally made obvious to me. Monkeys, birds, insects, and plants of every shape, size, and color filled my senses and I truly realized why this incredible resource needed to be protected.

I personally think this map will be useful for a number of reasons. Firstly, this map is the first digital representation of the community and surrounding selva, or forest, that Santa Rita has ever had, and it may be used in ways that we never thought of when planning out the project. In addition, I think that the community members will be better equipped to plan out their farm plots, which pad the community for one kilometer in every direction outside of its residential center. Property boundaries will also be concretely determined, as will the exact limits of the Colonso preserve. And with all this information, Runa and Santa Rita will be able to work together to build more productive livelihoods and protect the great Colonso forest.

We pass on this map with high hopes and best wishes to Santa Rita!

Living the in the community of Santa Rita and working as an intern for Runa since September of last year has given me the opportunity to meet some extraordinary people.

My neighbor Vicente and his wife Jacinta have become extremely close friends and have helped me truly understand the culture and tradition around guayusa. When I arrived in September of last year, I was invited to the first of what has become a near-weekly invitation to 4 a.m. chats over hot cups of guayusa about our thoughts on the week ahead, reflections on my dreams and my goals, and the latest village gossip. Vicente, a short, well-build man hardened by years of work on the farm, constantly feeds me new Kichwa vocabulary to add to my small-but-growing list. His patience and easy smile as I try to learn the non-Latin-based language make time with him and his family some of my most cherished in Santa Rita. His wife Jacinta, slightly taller than the majority of Kichwa women and always wearing green, speaks softly and sparingly, but her shyness is broken ever so often by a broad, beautiful smile and infectious laugh. I am regularly invited to boisterous dinners with them and the other neighbors, laughing as we move from topic to topic over a seemingly endless supply of rice and yuca.

Another neighbor of mine, Wilson, one of the village leaders and the Santa Rita representative on the Runa farmer's association board, has become another close companion. After getting home from work at 6:00, he can always be found sitting on the neighbors' front porch watching the day's pickup soccer games, people returning from the fincas (farms) around the community, and the flow of people coming back from Archidona via the Expreso Napo buses. He enjoys hearing about my work, what I think of Ecuador, and without fail, asks daily when I plan on returning after I leave in April. I accompanied Wilson on a crazy two-day adventure deep into the jungle to collect GPS points several months ago, and jokes about how gringos and the deep forest don't mix are told and re-told to no end. Although he commands much respect in Santa Rita (being one of only a handful of college graduates), his humble, kind nature and utter loyalty to the people he's grown up with has been extended to me, and people like Wilson are the reason I feel so at home when I return to Santa Rita every night.

Before living in Santa Rita, I thought that leaving the other gringos that I work with to live in a Kichwa community would make me long for English and the comfort associated with being around people who have lived the American lifestyle. This has proved to be far from the truth, as the incredible opportunity to work as a Runa intern has also turned into the chance to get out of my skin and form wonderful friendships with the very people that Runa works with to bring guayusa from the farm to the mug.

Sometimes I worry that my vision of an ideal company is…well…too ideal. A place where many cultures join together for the greater good of society and the environment, where the office is a mix of languages, races, and ages. And perhaps most importantly—where something delicious is always brewing nearby.

So when I stepped into the Fundación Runa office in Tena, I was pleased to find that such optimal work places do exist. Every morning starts off with a delicious cup of guayusa—preferably ishpingo-infused and that right there is enough to make each day great. I tell my friends that guayusa gets into your blood stream, and that’s definitely true. You feel this pleasant buzz all day long, without any nasty drop-off like you get with coffee.

 But I think it’s more than that. It gets into your psyche. Drinking this tea makes you think about the whole process that went into making it available. Interning with the Fundación gives you the chance to be a part of that chain, too. One special day, I was able to help a family of farmers during their guayusa harvest. I asked them, why are you growing guayusa? It pays well, and its easier work for us than harvesting cacao or coffee, they told me.

And those are just the obvious reasons. With each sale Runa makes, portions of proceeds go to a social premium fund that farmers may use towards community development projects.

This partnership is good for the environment, too. Runa buys only guayusa grown and harvested organically, without the use of harmful pesticides or fertilizers.

When you buy a product from Runa, you can feel good about what you’re consuming. And if you take the time to be part of this social movement down in Ecuador, you’ll do some good, too. What do you have to lose?

Check out www.runa.org order your Runa guayusa!

Come intern with Fundación Runa and learn firsthand about the indigenous Kichwa farmers we partner with to provide you with delicious, Amazonian guayusa. The following is a tale from Community Development intern Sara Hundt about her home stay with one such family of farmers in the community of San Pablo, outside of Tena, Ecuador.

The day begins around 6 AM in the San Pablo community. The chickens and dogs have been barking for hours. Years ago, Kichwa families would have been brewing guayusa for at least three hours by now.While this twilight ritual is less common with the younger indigenous Kichwa generation in the Napo province of Ecuador, being early risers is still part of their routine.   I keep my eyes shut for another half hour, and by the time I force myself out of bed, everyone in the family has already had breakfast and is getting ready to go to school. Whoops. 

The people here are by no means lazy. After all, as my host father Bartolo explained, if you wanted to get your food for the day, you had to start early. The men in Kichwa communities would traditionally head out for their first casería or hunt of the day by four AM to catch animals like guatusa—a type of Amazonian pig which lives in the mountainous foothills of the Andes. Animals are like humans, Bartolo explained—any later in the day and they’d be up having breakfast just like we would be.

Understanding the behavior of the animals that live alongside of them is just one of the many skills Kichwa people passed on from generation to generation. Annual doses of spicey ají to the eyes strengthened Kicha hunters’s sight, allowing them to make a second casería during the evening. And resourcefulness? Don’t even get me started. From using the leaves of local plants to collect chuntacoros (roly-poly worms—see photo below) and later use as a sort of super-oven when frying the worms for a meal, to using seeds of plants and fruits to construct beautiful artisan crafts, this community lets nothing go to waste.

To say these people are rich in culture is an understatement. From retelling colorful stories about hunting jaguars, to ancient traditions of making shikra—a bag sewn from the fibers of a plant called pita, strung with various sacred beads—the people of San Pablo are deeply connected with both the history of their people and the world around them.  In just a few days, I could confidently conclude that the Kichwa community in San Pablo is swimming in Runa spirit: if these people aren’t fully-living, I’m not sure who is.

While those that know Runa in the states know us for guayusa, in Ecuador, Runa is actively involved in other projects outside of guayusa production. Fundación Runa, the Ecuadorian counterpart of our for profit, Runa LLC, works on a number of different initiatives to help local farmers and community members. These initiatives include conducting agricultural economic research to determine fair market prices for purchasing guayusa, and working in the Colonso Forest zone to protect the land while simultaneously helping farmers supplement their income.

Another effort is focused in supporting community development. As part of our ongoing Fair Trade certification, an executive board of farmers from the communities we work with has been assembled to oversee guayusa production and work on developing the Social Premium Fund. The Social Premium Fund, an integral part of our Fair Trade certification, dictates that 15% of Runa’s profit goes directly back to the farmers for use within their communities. The executive board that has been gathered is in charge of distributing these funds to benefit the communities.

In order to investigate where the funds could have the greatest impact, we have developed a Needs Assessment survey that covers multiple topics, from nutrition and health to finances and education. Each week Runa interns go out to communities and interview available individuals who help us form a picture of their communities and their most acute needs. Developed by interns Aliana Piñeiro and Jennifer Ferguson this past summer, the Needs Assessment surveys are meant to be purely informative, and not instructional, for communities. Through the surveys we hope to provide some quantitative information to help community leaders decide how to allocate the additional income their communities now have access to.  Are there certain areas that multiple communities identify as particularly in need of support? Are certain problems isolated to certain areas or districts within the Napo region? As we continue our interviews we look forward to gathering more data and working with communities to ensure that the Social Premium Fund is as effective as possible.

By Evan Gelfand and Welcome Dundas (Fundación Runa Interns 2011)

Although cultivated for thousands of years by the Kichwa people of Amazonian Ecuador, very few scientific papers have been written about Ilex guayusa unknown to most outside of Peru, Colombia, and Ecuador, and even fewer—zero, to be precise—have been published relative to planting and agroforestry designs featuring guayusa.

Here at Runa we are excited by the opportunity to perform groundbreaking research in a field (both literally and figuratively) that energizes us.  We just planted our first experimental plot of 150 guayusa plants on a quarter hectare (half acre) piece of land interpopulated with bananas, yuca, guava, mandarin, and an assortment of other tropical plants next to the Runa factory in Archidona. Through this research we hope to find methods of optimizing guayusa production, to understand its ecological relationship with other plants, and to further general scientific knowledge about the plant.
Because little research has been performed on guayusa cultivation, we’ve started our search for enlightenment with the people that know guayusa best: Kichwa farmers and communities. Having grown guayusa on family tree plots for thousands of years, the Kichwa have lifetimes of practical experience with guayusa and are a valuable partner in our mission.

We began setup of the experimental plot by clearing the undergrowth surrounding the other trees on the plot—smaller plants and weeds that could disrupt growth of the new saplings. We allotted four meters between each plant to allow for sufficient spreading space, and placed each plant in a hole 6-8 inches deep. The soil around each sapling was packed slightly to allow for root contact with the ground and better nutrient uptake. In addition, we took baseline measurements and observations of every plant and created a GPS outline of the land to provide us with an exact digital representation of the plot.

Every month measurements will be taken to track growth and progress, and over time more experimental plots will be created to allow for research a variety of growing conditions. We’re looking forward to the developments over at the farm and to the additional experimental plots to test out new variables.

 It must have been around 3:30 a.m. when the alarm went off. I was in a shallow sleep and remember seeing Tyler across the room, already atop his covers, roll over and unlock his Blackberry to silence the wake up call. He took a deep breath, got up and quietly walked out the door and down the hallway. It was an unusually chilly night for Eastern Ecuador and I was buried under layers of fleece blankets on top of one of the bunks of the Runa house in the little town of Archidona. I’d always wanted bunk beds as a kid, and usually enjoyed the morning descent from the elevated dream-space as an adult. That morning, however, the breeze bit my skin and sent chills up my legs as my feet touched the cool tile floor. Joe Walker, a Peace Corps volunteer with Runa and all-round swell fella, sat up silently in the lower bunk as I rooted through my bag in the dark searching for the one longsleeved shirt I had in South America.     Team Runa is usually up and running bright and early, but a moon-lit start time is less regular. I had learned that there is already a lot going on in Amazonia by 3:30 a.m. and most of the time I was more than willing to lose a few winks to participate or witness what the jungle communities had to offer. That morning we were heading to Nueva Esperanza, a village about 45 minutes outside of Archidona for, what was for many of us, our first official guayusa ceremony.

    The heavy yellow light of the street lamps pushed into the dim first floor of RUNA HQ. The interns Alex, Ben, Lucy, Nadine, Joe and I were joined by the general manager Fransisco as, el presidente, Tyler Gage, checked on our arranged transportation. Things can occasionally take longer than expected in Ecuador, and as we collectively noted that sunrise would soon be approaching, Tyler stepped out onto the empty street and worked some entrepreneurial magic - a single truck taxi suddenly turned the corner, spotted him and, even though the driver was on his way home and where we were headed was far out of the way, he agreed to not only take us to the community but also to return several hours later and pick the group up. The timely manifestation was greeted with a cheer, and we all piled into the truck which sped off out of town toward muddy roads, local fincas (farms) and denser jungle.

    Guayusa ceremonies are reportedly thousands of years old. Ask a jungle-born Kichiwa native about guayusa and they will gladly tell you personal stories, local tales and ancient common knowledge about this infamous plant. They might refer to it as “medicine”, “the night watchman” or even just as a delicious brew. However they refer to it, it’s likely that they will also mention a guayusa morning ceremony. Waking up in the early pre-dawn hours, cooking up a big clay pot full of brew, telling stories, laughing and sharing with family and neighbors. Singing songs, discussing dreams, passing down knowledge to younger generations - hearing of such intimate community time feels very special, perhaps even sacred to us Westerners. I know it did for me, and I couldn’t wait to be part of such an experience.

    We’d been on progressively narrowing gnarly dirt roads for awhile. The town of Archidona had been swallowed by treeline and there were fewer and fewer signs of inhabiting people. Suddenly, after a sharp turn, we could see a maloka (thatched roof hut) and a thin stream of smoke twisting up into the sky. That’s how it can be in many parts of the jungle - from one spot you think you’re in the middle of no where and just a few hundred feet away is the beginning of a spread out community. The sun had been teasing the sky with subtle kisses of light and our group arrived at Nueva Esperanza just as the sky began to wake from nighttime slumber and hold the illumination. I noticed an older woman carrying wood toward the fire in the maloka and saw about a dozen deeply tanned native faces. We were quickly greeted with smiles and introduced to the group. The woman who had carried the firewood began to scoop some amber colored liquid from a clay pot over the pit fire using a large pilche (gourd bowl/cup). She walked over to me and rapidly stirred the liquid in the first bowl with a second smaller pilche. I had never seen anyone do that and asked her what the purpose was. “It charges the guayusa with good (energy),” she said in Spanish as she smiled and handed me the smaller of the two gourds full of steaming liquid. It could have been her special energy stirring or perhaps it was my own excitement but that was the best cup of guayusa I’ve ever had.

     The discussions we had with the people of the village were fascinating in both content and in the way we communicated. Some individuals only spoke Kichiwa, others spoke Spanish as well and, while Team Runa had a variety of languages in our pocket, English was primarily being used when we spoke to one another. For certain, we were a diverse group - indigenous Kichwa who had never left the area and only knew their native tongue, an Ecuadorian city dweller with advanced education who knew little of the jungle, a young woman from Sweden, folks from all over the United States and all walks of life. Ages ranged from the single digits to close to 100 years yet there we all were sitting in the Amazon jungle together drinking guayusa, laughing, gesturing, translating for one another and, most importantly, listening.

     A young villager presented a beat-up nylon string guitar which was passed around allowing several individuals to share songs adding yet another element to our communication - the language of music. The community medicine man sang some icaros (sacred songs) as he offered energy healing to a few people - villagers and visitors alike. Then, with the encouragement of Tyler, I spoke up and mentioned that I also had some music to share.

     I brought with me an instrument from another indigenous culture. Some Aboriginal tribes of central Australia call it a Yirdaki but Westerners are more familiar with the name Didgeridoo. It is one of the oldest known instruments in the world and I was excited to share its sound with another ancient culture. The villagers invited me to play and I, somewhat nervously, improvised a short piece facing away from the group. Didges can create sounds ranging from low drones to buzzing trumpets to animal-esque growls and I wasn’t sure how folks in the community would respond to my bouncy rhythms. When I was done, there was a long drawn out moment of stillness and silence. I turned around to look at everyone. I will never forget the faces I saw. Tyler also scanned the villagers with a wide eyes and an anticipatory grin. The stunned and bewildered expressions lasted only a few seconds before an enormous wave of sound - laughter, cheer, claps, stomps and yells - rolled out from the group. They enthusiastically asked me to play more! So I did. Some folks started dancing or clapping with the beat and children started walking around me inspecting the long tube-like wooden didgeridoo as I played it.

   Soon after I was done, I was flooded with great questions: “Did a shaman teach you how to play that?”, “Do you need to have special lungs for this?” , “What kind of animal does that sound like?”. It was wonderful. I explained to them what I could about how and why some Aboriginals used the Yirdaki in Australia and how I actually built didgeridoos myself and how anyone with a set of lungs can play the didgeridoo. The first to shyly ask to try and play was a young boy. I showed him how to buzz his lips and he soon got a strange bird-like sound to call out of the didge. Then, before I knew it, lots of folks were trying their lips at making sounds through the instrument. They even naturally discovered on their own the fun of playing over someone else in order for them to feel the vibrations more intensely (commonly called a sound bath). The rest of the group, still hanging around, continued to chat and laugh at weird noises being produced so early in the morning.     

 That was really the highlight of the sharing for me - the discussions we had in the language of music. I had, in those moments, a clear recognition of the power of sound, melody and rhythm in a way I had never experienced before. I actually teared up with joy. Regardless of the instrument, music is truly a unifying universal language. All cultures have music. Though the boy who first asked to play and I were from very different worlds, knew of wildly different things and likely had distinctly separate futures, we shared through the moments of music a strong connection of love. He knew... he could feel... exactly what I was “saying” through the didgeridoo. The same was true for the Spanish guitar songs and the Kichwa icaros. I know what they really meant, even if I cannot translate them verbatim. It is precisely that kind of sharing - the authentic connection of joy and what I would call love - that is at the root of not just guayusa ceremonies, but the very idea of community.

     I can think of no word more appropriate to describe the overall experience of that morning than MAGIC. I had witnessed magic.

     The work of RUNA helps to empower indigenous peoples of the Ecuadorian Amazon through sustainable agriculture which draws from and ties back into their ancient traditions. However, the real gift, in my opinion, is the creation of a platform upon which cultures, peoples and communities can share. In the Amazon, people often consider plants to have their own personalities, spirits or energies with which an individual can form a relationship. The Kichwa people are the “keepers” of guayusa and their relationship to it has given them a grand tradition of community and sharing. Now they have elected to share the plant with the world and RUNA is helping them accomplish that.

     A cup of guayusa is more than just a way to wake up in the morning... or at least it can be. Guayusa can be a stepping stone to some pretty stunning magic. At least that’s where it took me. My hope is that the relationship does something equally astounding for countless others.