The Amazon taught me how to surrender to the day

Now, having been welcomed back to Achuar land in the Ecuadorian Amazon Basin several times, I can trust myself in the darkness. But during the first months I lived there, sunset in the jungle gripped me with fear. It was a point of hilarity for the community – the foreigner who could not see as darkness devoured the day.

I’ve always sought adventures that propel me out of my comfort zone. That’s what led me to study a Bachelor of Communications (Social Inquiry) and International Studies at UTS, and what eventually led me to establish an education not-for-profit in a place where it took me months to learn how to see in new ways – the Ecuadorian Amazon.

Deep inside the jungle, no day goes as planned. It seems obvious to me now, after so many visits, but as a white outsider brought up in the city, letting go and surrendering to the day was an important lesson.  

Ironically, the stillness of the Amazon has taught me more than travelling the globe. My first lesson: the day belongs to the river. For the Achuar people, the river is their highway, communication system, supermarket, playground and place for rejuvenation. The river won’t be rushed or controlled. It will bless or curse you as it pleases.

The rainforest is enigmatic and breathtakingly beautiful in its stillness. It can also be unpredictable and potentially deadly – depending on your luck, or perhaps your machete skills and sense of direction. Flying above and peering down into a place teeming with life is the most powerful reminder I’ve had that we humans are just one small piece of a much larger puzzle. 

The rainforest is enigmatic and breathtakingly beautiful in its stillness. It can also be unpredictable and potentially deadly – depending on your luck, or perhaps your machete skills and sense of direction.

Had I known what was to come after I boarded my first plane out of the Amazon in February 2020, perhaps I wouldn’t have left the safety, love and kindness of the Kuserua community. 

COVID-19 didn’t penetrate my reality until I was halfway home. During my stopover in LA, pandemic anxiety was beginning to rise, but in the Sydney arrivals terminal, there were no masks or sanitiser in sight. 

From Australia, the Amazon always feels far away. But now, with a pandemic between us, this distance is quite literally insurmountable. At night, I’m eager to dream of this other home, to find myself momentarily transported back to this hypnotising place.

During these times of uncertainty, I fear for those I call my friends, family and community in the Amazon. I hope their isolation offers them protection. Then I remember the Achuar’s ways of healing, which will keep them strong within their land. 

On the other side of the world, on Gadigal land, our daily lives slowly open up again. I return to work at Tranby, the oldest independent Indigenous education provider in the country, where I’m the Research and Community Projects Manager. 
 
Looking around the Tranby campus in Glebe, and being present in this place of Indigenous learning, I’m filled with deep gratitude. I pause and ponder why I’ve been dreaming of another home, so far away. 

From Australia, the Amazon always feels far away. But now, with a pandemic between us, this distance is quite literally insurmountable

It’s an honour to learn from this land, its traditional custodians, and the longest continuing culture on earth. Amid all the tumultuous change, this pandemic year has given us a humbling reminder that community is life itself.

Seen from above, the Tranby campus weaves and curves, its buildings seem to radiate energy and strength. Like the Achuar and their rainforest lands, this Country, this community, are magic too. We still have much to learn.

Byline

Jacinta Bailey is the Founder of Selva: Empowering the Amazon and Research and Community Projects Manager at Tranby. She has a Bachelor of Communication (Social Inquiry) and International Studies (Hons, 2019) from UTS.