Sanctuary

For our last weekend in Chiapas we wanted to get in some R&R, but of course we had to do it Mike and Faith style. We took a collective taxi boat ride through the mangroves that separate the sandbars from the mainland of Chiapas and landed on the sandy beach of Barra Zacapulco. On one side there is the ocean and on the other is a mangrove waterway with only about a quarter mile of land in between the two. This sandy island hosts small shrubs, coconut palms and other hearty vegetation that thrive under harsh coastal conditions. We were ready to spend the weekend on the beach soaking up some rays, splashing in the waves, and volunteering at the turtle sanctuary.

We met with Carlos “Tortuga” Ochoa, who I had met in June during a visit with my field study class, and discussed what work we may be doing around the site. There was only one bed available, but we came prepared. Amber got to have the bed with the mosquito net while Faith and I camped in our tent on the sand. There is a basic kitchen with a gas stove that works well enough and we had brought food for ourselves to last the entire weekend. We had to bring our own drinking water in a large Sparkletts type jug because the only fresh water available comes from a well and the water has become deep red in color from the mangrove roots. Obviously this water wasn’t suitable for drinking, so instead we used it to shower, wash dishes, and to flush our toilet with. A row of coconut palms were all that stood between us and the white foam covered waves. The turtle sanctuary is about a ten minute walk down the beach from a group of restaurants under palapa roofs. By a group of restaurants I mean competing relatives of Carlos’s family all who serve the same two dishes- fish that was just caught, or shrimp that was just caught. Our first day on the beach we got ourselves accustomed to the living conditions and checked out all that the tortuguero had to offer. At 5:00 p.m. there was another batch of newly hatched sea turtles that needed to be released, so all four of us piled onto a 4x4 ATV and took the babies down to the palapa restaurants to share the experience with anyone there. We gathered a group of people and each let go of a turtle and cheered it on as it made its way to the water. If this was going to be a daily experience any back breaking labor we had in store would surely be worth it.

Carlos sat with us and discussed the plight of the sea turtle and explained how Chiapas has four turtle sanctuaries and that his was the newest and smallest. There are only two people on staff and they spend twenty days at a time living there. Twenty days on and ten days off is the schedule that alternates between Carlos and Rodulfo, the other man who tends to the sanctuary. We learned how every night around midnight they patrol the 27 kilometers of beach on their sandbar looking for freshly laid eggs and poachers who might be stealing eggs off the beach. Sea turtles and their eggs are protected under Mexican federal law, but poachers still comb the beach for eggs to sell on the black market. Carlos and Rodulfo strive to show the importance of strengthening this beautiful aquatic species and hope the more people learn about them the less people would consider them as merely an exotic food. Rescued sea turtle eggs are removed from the beach and reburied in a corral that is fenced and monitored. It takes a sea turtle egg forty-five days to hatch and since the beach is patrolled nightly a highly accurate calendar can be formed about when the eggs were laid and when they will be hatching. We got to witness hatchlings crawl out of the dirt, take in their first breath of beach air and scramble in the direction of the ocean within their protected space in the corral.

Each day’s new sea turtle babies are collected, counted, and documented in detailed records. The reason for the 5:00 p.m. release is because at that time the tide is the calmest and there are fewer predators such as birds that would normally be hovering overhead. The baby sea turtles aren’t just placed in the ocean, they are given a three meter distance of sand to traverse before they can begin their swim.

When asked why the turtles are placed at this distance instead of simply being released into the water we were told it was to help the newborn remember where they came from because in twelve years they will return with their mate to the same exact beach to lay their own eggs. We were reminded of how nature has a rational explanation for things and if a piece of the process is removed the cycle is broken.

This reminded me of something I heard about that had happened at a well known zoo in California. We learned that when giraffes give birth the baby drops and hits the ground from the height of over five feet. The staff at the zoo felt they needed to soften the blow for the newborn and placed nets under the mother to catch the newborn calf. The mortality rate of the baby giraffes began rising, it turned out that the fall to the earth actually aided in the jump starting of the newborn’s heart. A sad fact that we also came to know was that the rate of survival into adulthood for a sea turtle hatchling is 1 in 1000. All the work being done at the tortuguero has definitely increased the chances for the future generations of this species, but it still is a long hard road ahead of these turtles to avoid extinction. Our first night we were invited by Carlos to accompany him on his nightly patrol, but my sleep schedule got the best of me and I regrettably missed my chance. I wasn’t about to let this happen the next night though. The next morning we got up as the sun turned our tent into an oven and us into dinner roasts, around 7:30 a.m. Carlos had already been up for a while and we slowly made our way to the kitchen to cook up some breakfast. After a quick bite we were told that we were going to be cleaning out the turtle pools. I got to actually jump into the area where the turtles swam, drained the water, scrubbed the walls, and made sure all the sand was removed. Amber picked up each turtle one by one and gave their shells a nice scrubbing making them presentable for all the coming tourists. I think the turtles pretended to resist, but looked very proud of their glossy backs when she was finished.

The girls painted markers which are used to distinguish each group of eggs. I also helped drain and clean the tank that held different types of turtles and an endangered fish. I didn’t know how cautious to be with the little turtles, but after watching Carlos displace them throughout the tank with his broom like living hockey pucks I wasn’t too concerned about disturbing them. I asked Carlos if we were going to drain all the water and he said, “of course,” I gave him a quizzical look because I didn’t understand what was going to become of the precious endangered fish. I watched as the fish huddled together near the drain, a cyclone formed and the fish protested by thrashing in the water that was shallower than half their body’s height. Carlos didn’t seem concerned in the slightest and continued to scrub away at the walls.

After the tank was satisfactorily cleaned Carlos looked at me and said, “now move those fish to the other end of the tank so we can clean by the drain.” This he told me had to be done by hand, I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not because earlier he had mentioned that the fish had sharp enough teeth to cut off a finger. I had no choice but to go with it and I picked up each fish one by one and carried them across the tank as they thrashed within my hands. After the cleaning we moved the fish back near the drain by sliding them across the tank floor, one even went between two box turtles and I was this close to shouting, “GGGOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!”

The next few days were filled with a lot of hammock swinging, ocean swimming, sun tanning, and the occasional group of tourists coming to see what the tortuguero was all about. I listened intently as Carlos gave tours to the groups. On one of the later days there was even an instance where Carlos was nowhere to be found so I ended up giving a full tour of the grounds to a group all in Spanish. I felt as if I had done a good job when I saw one of the tourists drop some pesos into the donation jar. We also helped Carlos maintain the living quarters by keeping it swept and we got to go out with him at night when he patrolled the beach. It was pretty intense having four people with no protective gear ride through the night over sand dunes on a vehicle made for one. The stars twinkled brightly in the moonless sky as we swerved to miss the water as it washed up on shore.

Carlos stopped at a area that had been obviously disturbed by a sea turtle. The sand had been moved in a distinct pattern which is an indicator of where eggs may be. With a wooden stick Carlos prodded the sand randomly over a large area feeling for differences in the sand. He concluded the turtle might have gotten stage fright and not actually laid any eggs. We continued on course and bats flew up off the sand around us and we even spotted the rare Mapache, a “bear like creature” as described by Carlos, which turned out to be a common raccoon. The days blended together and our deadline to get back came rushing up on us faster than we would have liked. Looking back on our time at the beach I cherish the memory of watching Carlos net fish off the shore under the blanket of stars. His net silently cast an oblong shape that lit up the water because of the red tide (small phytoplankton that illuminate when disturbed). I could see his net drape down to the ocean sand before he began towing in the line. The net left a trail of bioluminescence as Carlos pulled in his catch. After a few brisk shakes of the net small fish fell onto the sand that I deposited into a bucket. If we were to catch any good sized fish I would get the opportunity to eat one myself. We chose several locations along the beach and collected over 15 fish, too small for us, but great size to be cut up and fed to the crocodile and turtles at the sanctuary. Carlos’s work pays little, but it is a labor of love. Catching fish for the animals on site is part of the job because there is no funding to feed them daily. We weren’t happy to leave this special place where time is calculated by the heat, sound of the crashing waves, and the smell of the wind. It seemed arbitrary to pay close attention to what the name of the day we were in was. While here there always seemed to be enough time for everything, something completely foreign to where we would be returning to. Yet the calendar called our name and our flight was just around the corner. So, we thanked Carlos for all his servitude and hospitality and told him to expect to see us again.

I am writing this last part 40,000 feet in the air as we leave Mexico for the states. I am reminded of the lyrics to “I Left My Heart In San Francisco” because there is a pulling sensation I cannot deny that feels as if I belong where I just left. We learned a great deal from all the people we have met and I will have a final post containing reflections on our experiences and what they meant to us. One valuable lesson we have come to understand by getting involved with the turtle sanctuary is: Nature doesn’t seem to make too many mistakes, intervention isn’t always the solution, and adaptation is something that must be done on one’s own terms.

Con brazos abiertos

Last June I participated in an ethno-ecology course that took me to the coastal region of Chiapas called the Soconusco. There we met cacao farmers who are growing the native strain organically and sustainably. The organization we worked alongside, CASFA, welcomed any of us who would like to return and continue to learn the ways of the farmers. Faith and I knew we were going to take them up on their offer and incorporated a visit to the region into our plans. Sonja also benefitted from our visit to the Soconusco region because her thesis focused on healthcare in rural communities there. So, after a night in a San Cristobal hostel we loaded ourselves into a highly comfortable OCC bus for the seven hour voyage. The bus had reclining seats and tv screens that played Spanish dubbed English movies. We were seated in the front of the bus and got to enjoy the wonderful views of Chiapas. There are vast expanses of pristine wilderness that are bisected by the one road we were travelling on. I mentioned to Faith how this reminded me of some of the National Parks we have visited in Canada. The only difference here is that this land is not yet protected and is vulnerable to encroaching civilization. Small rural communities dotted the landscape and we can only imagine how impressive it would be to wake up every morning and look out over the lush valley they lived above. All this wonder slowly turned into sheer terror as fog from the higher elevations slowly encompassed our giant bus. The mountain roads we were on were very narrow and often times had no guard rails just in case we were to make a slightly wide turn. The fog became so thick that we couldn’t see further than 15 feet in front of the bus. We closed our eyes and just thought, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t going to be how I die.” The bus driver was somewhat reassuring because he casually sang along to the Ranchera tunes he shuffled through on his in-dash disc changer while maneuvering us through the white nothingness. This lasted over an hour until the uncomfortable popping of our eardrums, which we actually enjoyed because that indicated we were descending into safer ground.

Our destination was Tapachula, the capital city of the Soconusco region and also the closest major city to Guatemala in the area. Faith had read about a hotel called Hotel Premier in her Let’s Go travel book. It mentioned spotless rooms with an entertaining fish tank in the lobby. We hailed some taxis and felt it was a good sign that the taxi drivers had heard of the hotel. We were having some minor culture shock as we passed by tall buildings, brightly lit signs, and sidewalks full of pedestrians. We weren’t confident about how safe it was to be out at this hour and wanted to find refuge in a hotel room as soon as possible. As we pulled up to the Hotel Premier we were glad to be able to escape the world and be at ease again.

We walked into the hotel and noticed a cartoonish water scene inside what appeared to be a picture frame that was filled with water and had one fish pathetically dodging the rushing bubbles that came from the bottom. As entertaining as that could possibly be, we still felt bad for the poor fish. We were told the prices for the room had changed from what was originally quoted, but after some coercion they honored the original price. Upstairs we found an area for sitting with about five couches that must have either came with the building or were stolen from an elderly person who died in the 70’s. Our room was not much nicer than the couch room. Fleas hopped out of sight from under the pillows as we uncovered them and there was no hot water. Needless to say, we needed to find another place to stay in Tapachula.

We asked around town and came across Hotel Plaza Guizar, a hotel in the heart of downtown where it is super noisy, but the room available was a presidential suite compared to the Hotel Premier. We wanted to switch over that night, but Hotel Premier wouldn’t refund our money. So we dealt through the night and quickly changed hotels the next morning.

Outside of Tapachula there are several remote communities and understanding how these individuals attain health care is the focus of Sonja’s research. Colectivos take you from one town to the next, but will also gladly drop you off in one of the many pueblos along the way. We chose a small town named Villa Comaltitlan to dedicate Sonja’s questionnaires. To find the nearest clinic we got into a bicycle taxi and told the driver to pedal us to one. At the clinic we were greeted warmly by the few staff on hand, including a dentist named Judith who is highly enthusiastic about the clinic. We were given tours of the rooms and interviewed the main person in charge about who receives care there. The waiting room, which consisted of around 20 seats, is where people sat and waited to be called in. We approached several of the individuals and explained to them about the research Sonja was conducting. The people of Villa Comaltitlan were very kind and they willingly agreed to help Sonja with her surveying. We completed the research needed with time to spare and being halfway between Tapachula and the turtle sanctuary we decided to swing by the beach and double check if we are still able to volunteer/stay there. It took some street smarts to get us to the beach- a colectivo to a smaller colectivo, to a truck with vinyl covered bed, to a private boat through the mangroves until we landed on the sandbar named Barra Zacapulco where the turtle sanctuary is. There is a museum with turtle bones, rescued turtles, a crocodile, dormitories, and hatchery all at the turtle sanctuary. We met the man who lives on site and he welcomed us to stay with him free of charge in exchange for volunteer work around the sanctuary. We thanked him for the offer and told him that we would be returning the following Friday to spend the weekend at the sanctuary.

During a tour of the site he brought over a bucket of newly hatched sea turtles that had emerged from the protected sand that day. He had over 60 and was expecting more. He told us that at 5:00 p.m. he was going to release them into the ocean and that we could assist him. We had some time to kill so we ate lunch at a local palapa restaurant and returned at 5:00 p.m. sharp.

We walked to the shore bucket-in-hand and there we got to witness one of the most magical moments of our entire trip- 150 baby sea turtles scuttling their way to their first encounter with their new home, the ocean. We followed the leaders of the pack, took video, snapped photos and couldn’t help but feel the electric energy of youthful nature. When they had all disappeared into the tide we all smiled and understood how special this experience was. It was a great final day for our group of four before Sonja parted ways to return to the states. Over the weekend we organized what little time we had left and got in contact with CASFA who met with us on Monday to discuss what would be the best course of action for us to take. On Monday, Ruviel, a CASFA worker and farmer, took us to his home, fed us delicious organic fruit, walked us through his plantation, and then to another woman’s orchard. He wanted us to view the system of intercropping he is implementing and how it has become highly beneficial for all his crops.

Intercropping is a system of agriculture where several types of crops are grown in the same plot. This is done because relationships form between the different crops and each aid one another in different ways. Tall trees provide shade, plantains enrich the soil with potassium, beans increase the nitrogen in the earth all while creating a viable ecosystem for other creatures such as microorganisms and birds. Also, there is reduction in crop failure with this system since the differing plants increase protection against sickness. If one crop should fail there are multiple crops that can be harvested and the devastation is minimized. These are just a few of the benefits to intercropping as opposed to monocropping, growing whole fields of just one crop. Organic and sustainable farming is the goal of CASFA for all their farmers to achieve. They continually educate the farmers on the benefits to these methods since no pesticides or fertilizers are added or needed.

The next morning we were met by Ruviel at our hotel in Tapachula and we loaded all our worldly belongings into the bed of his truck to be taken along with us to our new home for the week. We drove a short while and turned off the main road to Huixtla and entered into a small town named Tuzantan. In Tuzantan there is a parcel owned by a CASFA farmer that is tended to by Juan Sanchez and his family. We parked the truck in front of a barb wire fence that had coffee beans drying freely in the road. We were met by the Sanchez family who share a simple home made of concrete brick walls, solid concrete floor, and aluminum roof. We introduced ourselves to everyone we met as we walked through their kitchen where a wood burning stove cooked their dinner for the night. We were shown our room which had a wooden bed frame, small wood dresser, and swinging door.

The back of the house faces a flowing river that can be heard from anywhere in the house. Chickens, ducks, turkeys, dogs, and a pig freely roam the backyard looking for scraps in the dirt. A bamboo forest jets out of the ground with leaves looming overhead making the poles bend from the weight. Large rocks create small rapids in the river where the ducks fish for sardines and people can bathe or do their laundry. Electricity is scarce in the household and is mainly used to power a light that illuminates the patio and a television. There is no running water in the house. The water is stored in a concrete “pila,” a rectangular tall structure that stores large quantities of water to be used for cooking, washing dishes, force flushing the toilet, and showering. These conditions are foreign to us being so used to American luxuries, we were definitely going to be experiencing something new and we welcomed the challenges that lay ahead.













The temperature here reaches swelteringly hot degrees accompanied by humidity that can paralyze you even under the shadiest tree. During a tour of the parcel we were going to be working the only escape from the heat was to splash in a nearby stream that cuts through the cacao orchard. A nursery that is covered by shade cloth would be our work site. Within the nursery are cacao saplings sprouting out of black plastic cylinders lined up in neat rows. We estimated that there were around three thousand of these cacao juveniles. Since the environment is full of plant life there are always other plants invading fighting for their right to survive. The saplings had unwelcomed neighbors and we were to be the ones who would let them grow in peace. We were told to pull out any plant that was not cacao and to discard them in the walkways between the rows. Our first day of work we were only able to complete half of the task before we had to find refuge in a cooler spot because the sun was becoming our enemy. An average work day here in Tuzantan begins before the suns comes up, around 6:00 a.m., and ends before the sun becomes unbearable, around noon. The cacao nursery is about a twenty minute hike from our hosts. The path along the way passes rivers, cow pastures, and other houses. Back at the house we couldn’t do much more than swing in the hammocks we had strung up on their patio. Attempting to nap proved to be borderline impossible due to the increasing heat. One of the days we returned and actually bathed ourselves, shampoo and all, in the flowing river behind their house. We were adjusting as best as we could to the conditions and we gave much respect to the small children who told us that it wasn’t even hot. According to the neighborhood kids late February and March are a scorcher.

Lunch was always served at 2:00 p.m. and we were served different meals each day. The women of the household (mother, her daughters, and granddaughters) did all the cooking, cleaning, tending to the animals, and child care. The women also didn’t eat with us, they ate at a different table outside the kitchen and we sat with Juan at the table in the kitchen. Unlike in American culture eating time is not used for socializing. It was common to not speak a word during the meal, but immediately after a conversation would start up. The house had a very peaceful energy and everyone was extremely friendly, generous, and accommodating. We constantly asked where to put our dirty dishes or throw away our trash and they always refused to let us do even the most minimal tasks.

The minimum hourly wage in California for one hour’s worth of work is about double the average daily wage for many people in this region. Yet what the family lacked in financial assets they made up for in social capital. The respect given to the elders, the love and care shared by all to the youngest, the playing habits among the children had such a vibrant sense of sincerity that it made us feel like we were lacking something that they had. These people didn’t have much to give, but what they did have they offered. We expressed our gratitude for every meal, accommodation, comfort, and all the hospitality. We began to understand how it is to live as they do. The food eaten is simple but flavorful. The drinks are made from fresh fruit and the coffee unfiltered. We noticed that meals weren’t specific to times of the day and one morning we woke up early to find a bowl of fish soup with unshelled shrimp for breakfast. Sleeping arrangements were complicated since there were three of us and only one area for sleeping that fit two. I decided I wanted to be as outdoorsy as possible and let the girls share the bed and I slept in a hammock outside. They may have had slightly more comfortable bedding, but I got to sleep to the sound of the branches moving in the wind and the river flowing over rocks. Also, one day it had been raining for a good portion of the day Amber and Faith froze as they entered their room. A big hairy brown and black tarantula defied gravity and perched itself on their bedroom wall. Amber and Faith stared at the spider as the spider stared back with all of it’s eyes, who would make the first move, it was a standoff. When we called the women over about the spider they chuckled and mentioned that it was a small one and shooed it away with a broom. One day during our afternoon heat escape we chatted with one of Juan’s granddaughters, Elizabeth. She told us how old she was and proudly stated that she was going to be eight years old the next day, it was going to be her birthday! We enjoyed our casual chats with this outgoing youngster and wanted to get her a gift for her birthday. We asked everyone what would be appropriate and they said to ask Elizabeth herself.

We didn’t know if girls her age still play with dolls or if she would like some new clothes so upon asking she replied that she would love to have a backpack that rolls to bring to school with her. This was a surprise due to its utilitarian nature and we felt that getting her a backpack would be an honor. So, we took a taxi to Huixtla because nowhere in town sold backpacks with wheels. We found a vendor who specialized in backpacks and chose one that just felt right, it was black with white and red markings and had an animated girl depicted on the front. We also found a store that sold all their items for three pesos, so we loaded up her new backpack with school related things like pencils, markers, crayons, notebook, pencil sharpener, pencil case and a poster that showed the multiplication table.

There are many small children who play together where we were staying and we didn’t want to have them feel left out so we also bought ten bags of marbles to be distributed amongst all the boys and girls. When we showed up with the backpack and gifts little Elizabeth was all smiles and all her family watched as she discovered all the little additions we hid within the pockets. All the children excitedly grouped together and I showed them a few of the marble games I know.

The Sanchez family had opened their home and their hearts to us and we wanted to be able to reciprocate for all their kindness, we hoped this small token would in some way let them know how grateful we were for their hospitality. We were given an opportunity to not only see a lifestyle, but to experience it albeit shortly. We learned not only about them, but about ourselves. We were sad to say goodbye to our new friends, but by looking at my track record of visiting Chiapas it probably won’t be the last time we see them.