An Achuar Indian, Cristóbal Callera treads through the jungle like a child of the rain forest. But on a recent day he had a gaggle of heavy-footed tourists in tow, the rain falling in waves and the trail mired in mud.
Mr. Callera stopped frequently before what appeared to be unremarkable plants, slicing them open with a pocket knife and explaining how they could be used to treat everything from jungle rashes to chicken pox.
“For us, the forest is like a pharmacy,” explained Mr. Callera, 38, his blue rain slicker soaked. “That is why we do not want to destroy the forest.”
It was a jungle tour not unlike others offered by resorts and eco-lodges across Latin America – a walk through mysterious forests where strange birds shriek and unseen rustling elicits gasps from visitors.
But while many ecology-friendly getaways are operated by big tour companies or foreign entrepreneurs, the Kapawi Ecolodge and Reserve is run with the participation of the Achuar, the region’s dominant Indian tribe.
For the Achuar people, Kapawi is becoming an increasingly important symbol of their independence as they try to resist oil companies that want to drill here. The idea, indigenous leaders say, is to demonstrate options to oil exploration.
“We do not need petroleum,” said Fernando Antik, 28, chief of a nearby village, Kusutkau. “We need more tourists.”
The lodge, named for the village of Kapawi, is barely 120 miles southeast of the capital, Quito. But it is surrounded by nearly impenetrable Amazonian forest. There are no roads, telephones, electrical grid.
The outside world comes via 12-seat Cessnas that land on a 2,300-foot dirt strip.
The lodge itself uses solar power for electricity. Water for the dozen thatched-roof cabins is heated in heavy black bags set out in the sun. More than 30 of the lodge’s 44 employees are Achuar, who do everything from cook meals to make repairs. Achuar guides lead tourists on fishing trips to hook monster catfish the size of dogs on the Capahuari River or on bird-watching trips to spot horned screamers, pavonine quetzals or pheasant cuckoos.
“Kapawi is an exception among eco-lodges because it tries to practice what it preaches in terms of community involvement,” said Amanda Stronza, an American anthropologist who did a case study on Kapawi for the Stanford University Graduate School of Business.
The local people could not be more different from the tourists, many of them elderly, affluent retirees from Switzerland and Canada; Kapawi, after all, costs $1,800 a week per person, excluding the flight in.
The contrast did not stop Gerald Magee, 75, of Minneapolis, from telling the chief, Mr. Antik, about his work as a lawyer, his days in the merchant marine, his college years in Minnesota.
The chief’s face remained blank, unimpressed or befuddled. That is until Mr. Magee told the chief, through an interpreter, that his greatest accomplishment was having nine children. A smile lit up the chief’s face. “I congratulate you,” said Mr. Antik, a father of two.
Kapawi’s operators hope such exchanges will spur more interest in the Achuar’s territory, half the size of New Jersey, helping form alliances with outsiders.
“I think this is a great idea, this place,” said Freddie Sumption, 24, a British travel writer. “This seems less intrusive because the indigenous have something to do with it. The money doesn’t just go to a tour company in the U.K. or the U.S.”
Not all agreed.
Bill Twelvetrees, 74, a civil engineer from Canada, said the Indians were irrational about development and unrealistic about how one lodge would help an entire tribe. “It’s a shame they’re making these decisions about oil without having all the facts,” he said.
Founded in 1996, the Kapawi lodge was the brainchild of an Ecuadorean adventurer and guide, Daniel Kouperman, who sold an established tour company, Canodros, on the idea. Canodros came to an agreement with the Achuar, paying the Indians $58,000 a year and promising to turn over the entire operation in 2011.
Two other lodges in Latin America have followed with similar projects, Posada Amazonas in southeastern Peru and Chalalán in Madidi National Park in Bolivia. All have sparked intense interest from such divergent groups as the World Bank, the Japanese government and environmental groups like Conservation International.
Similar operations exist elsewhere, like a Masai-owned lodge, Ill’Ngwesi, in Kenya, and the Gudigwa lodge in Botswana, run by Kalahari bushmen.
“Right now, in the tourism industry, there’s a growing movement to involve, respect and include indigenous people in decisions that are being made, and make sure they’re recipients of benefits,” said Costa Christ, director of eco-tourism for Conservation International in Washington.
Not everything, though, is perfect in paradise.
Ms. Stronza, who is also working on a study of Kapawi, Chalalán and Posada Amazonas, said Kapawi had not figured out how to transport tourists here cheaply. The lodge’s greatest attraction – its isolation – is also a curse, because only small planes holding few tourists can land.
She said Canodros was also behind on preparing the Achuar to assume management roles by 2011. “They still don’t have a plan for how to begin,” Ms. Stronza said.
Still, people in the forest take pride in the lodge.
Pedro Santi, 35, a kitchen worker here, said the lodge exposed him to the hotel and tourism industry.
“It’s great to work here, to learn this and stay with this kind of work,” Mr. Santi said as he cleared plates. “I plan to do other jobs here. That is the plan. Then to get ahead.”
