July 16th, 2006
Well, I went to the edge of Tungurahua today. (Turns out "Tunguri" IS the word for throat in Quichua for those of you who read the article I linked to yesterday, though all the people here refer to her as "Mama huila" which means "Granma"). Anyway, it was a pretty surreal scene and my first time near a very active volcano. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera, so I am trying to make do with a thousand words.
Here in Salasaca we organized a food drive and I'd guess from Manzana Pamba Grande (my neighborhood) we took about a half ton of food to a community right at the base of the volcano, about a half hour away from here. The food was mostly stuff that people here had grown and recently harvested, a large part of it was corn, and there was also a lot of potatos and then various other things, including things that people had bought to donate. Some of the other neighborhoods in Salasaca took grass and alfalfa for the animals, because the people are farmers and ash has covered everything up.
Anyway, we went there in a caravan of 10 pickup trucks and it was incredibly strange to look out and basically see a color world become black and white as far as the eye could see. That was the ash, which as carried by the wind covers areas to the south, while adjoining areas have been completely spared. There is enough ash to effectively kill all the plants beneath it (except perhaps the larger trees), but not enough to hide the plants nor the houses nor the geographical features. They were simply muted into grayscale. There were also two or three wide gray swaths that had been destroyed by lava and earth flows. At that point we were far away still. The view was down a river valley that separates the volcano from the surrounding areas and slowly we descended into the valley, having come down a road from Pelileo (not the road that goes to Baños).
On the road to Cotaló, a town in the shadows of the mountain, the last town that more or less has evaded the worst of the ash -- with only the southern part of town and the hill beyond really damaged -- we ran into lots of tourists who had come to see the volcano. The police didn't allow them to continue onwards to town, but we were allowed through because of the food we were carrying. When we arrived, there were townsfolk organizing the distribution of the aid, and our pickup truck was directed to go to the absolute last town standing where people hadn't been evacuated, Chacauco. Chacauco was covered in ash. The tree tomatos, potatos, corn, etc, clearly were done for. The tin and eternit (abspestos based corrugated sheet) roofs were covered in ash. The people who received us said that we were the first people who had arrived with aid, more than a day and a half after the most recent major explosions and a day after the president visited to look around.
As we arrived, we also saw the cattle, llamas, and horses alongside the road. Their backs were covered in ash and they had nothing they could eat. In Cotaló, the haciendas have escaped the ash, while the people living to the south on the side of the mountain, who have only tiny pieces of land, have been the people affected. Apparently the owners of the haciendas have not accepted evacuated cattle. The evacuated animals were all on the soccer field in Cotaló, but a large number of animals still weren't evacuated. These beasts, which are people's earnings and assets rolled up into one, are without food or shelter. When we arrived, people thanked us profusely as we deposited the food into the empty community building. The only other aid that had arrived there was a pile of reject bananas of the sort that are only fit for animal consumption. One woman told us that she was chopping it up into bits that the guinea pigs will eat when they get hungry enough.
Despite the danger, the people do not want to leave Chacauco. Of the 49 families that live there, only two have been evacuated. Where can they go? How can they abandon their animals? How can they abandon their lives? So they stay, knowing that their poverty is worse now than ever. They are probably making the right choice, there is no reason to think that they could have better lives, and there is no reason to think the authorities will help. In Chacauco we were only a short ways above the river that protected the town from any flows and looking across to the other side we could clearly see the abandoned town of Cusúa. Cusúa was not actually as covered by ash as Chacauco. This town sits on the road from Baños to Riobamba. Just to the south of the town a major lava/rock flow had gone down to the river, crossing the road. In its path it had destroyed a couple of greenhouses, the only structures that I saw that were actually completely destroyed. Just to the north of town was another flow. The town has been miraculously saved up to the moment, but I don't expect that to continue.
We then decided to check things out and we went down the road to the bridge across the river. From the bridge, we looked down probably 50 feet down the steep walls of volcanic rock to the river. The place was absolutely covered in ash. Probably less than a centimeter thick, but that little is enough to finish off life. Since before our entry into Cotaló things had begun to stink, in fact on Friday night when I took the pictures I sent before, even in Salasaca things were stinky. Down at the bridge, we were talking about how we hadn't heard any booms. In Salasaca we frequently hear what is like thunder, but right next to the house. Usually there is a sort of rumbling boom. A few moments after we commented about the lack of noise right next to the volcano, we heard a boom which was fast, like a gunshot. We proceeded onwards, going past another abandoned town named Bilbao. It was a town quite similar to Chacauco, but with the big disadvantage of being on the other side of the river. We saw abandoned houses, an enormous abandoned dump truck, and abandoned dogs. I imagine the situation further up the mountain is much sadder. People work the land and put their houses on incredibly steep slopes, because they have no access to better lands. At this point we proceeded onwards towards Cusúa and got out of the pickup about 100 meters from the ash/lava flow.
There were a number of cars there and people. We advanced towards the flow and and as I was looking at how the ash covered up leaves we heard another boom. Then, the people near the flow started running in my direction yelling at everyone to leave. We retreated back to the bridge. Apparently the loudspeakers from Chacauco had shouted for us to retreat because rocks were being shot out from the mountain. These rocks vary in size from very small to the size of someone's head. They are hot. When we looked up I could see an ash cloud spewing from the top of the mountain. The cloud had a reddish tint. The day had been cloudy, and this was the first visual evidence of the volcano's activity that we had seen all day. At this point we retreated to Chacauco and eventually made our ways up to Cotaló after a fair amount of conversation with the locals, from there we could see lines of smoke sliding down the mountain that indicated to us where the lava and rocks were falling. Some of our group went back down and eventually went to the flow itself and grabbed some rocks, one of which they gave to me. However, the more cautious of us felt that there was no reason to tempt fate, we had been close enough to truly appreciate what had happened.
When we finally we came home, leaving Cotaló, we saw one of the strangest rainbows I've ever seen. It was just a short section and instead of being against the background of the sky, it was below us, against the background of the mountain. I'm not at all spiritual, it seems to me that the rainbow is as much a deception of hope as anything else. It's sad to see that a lot of the problems being faced could have been easily prepared for. A few big government constructed barns and some stored food for both the animals and the people could have basically had everyone in okay condition.
Of course, I saw the most dramatic area of destruction, but there have been major problems with ash as far away as Guaranda, and the ash is a much bigger problem than the actual destruction caused by the lava or rocks. Rosa's grandfather has told us about how his father survived the eruption in 1920 and how then there were enourmous amounts of ash in Salasaca that killed the plants and animals, and that at that time food was donated by other areas. When we collected food today, the people in the community were generous. It is sad to think that the only people who have arrived with food to support the people at the base of the mountain are just as poor as the people affected. Here nobody can count on the wealthy and the government to solve problems. As we came back, the number of observers had multiplied exponentially, but none of the people arriving came with food for the people or for their animals. From their cars they happily checked out the excitement from afar, without ever aproaching the people who are suffering.
Right now, I'm back at home. Since night fell, I can look out my kitchen window and see the lava spewing out the mountain. I feel perfectly safe and don't think many people will die from an eruption. Baños is the only city right next to Tungurahua, and at least for the time being it seems to be on the other side of the action. That said, the lives of many people will be ruined, and I can only hope that the number of people whose lives are ruined won't be too high.
Well, I went to the edge of Tungurahua today. (Turns out "Tunguri" IS the word for throat in Quichua for those of you who read the article I linked to yesterday, though all the people here refer to her as "Mama huila" which means "Granma"). Anyway, it was a pretty surreal scene and my first time near a very active volcano. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera, so I am trying to make do with a thousand words.
Here in Salasaca we organized a food drive and I'd guess from Manzana Pamba Grande (my neighborhood) we took about a half ton of food to a community right at the base of the volcano, about a half hour away from here. The food was mostly stuff that people here had grown and recently harvested, a large part of it was corn, and there was also a lot of potatos and then various other things, including things that people had bought to donate. Some of the other neighborhoods in Salasaca took grass and alfalfa for the animals, because the people are farmers and ash has covered everything up.
Anyway, we went there in a caravan of 10 pickup trucks and it was incredibly strange to look out and basically see a color world become black and white as far as the eye could see. That was the ash, which as carried by the wind covers areas to the south, while adjoining areas have been completely spared. There is enough ash to effectively kill all the plants beneath it (except perhaps the larger trees), but not enough to hide the plants nor the houses nor the geographical features. They were simply muted into grayscale. There were also two or three wide gray swaths that had been destroyed by lava and earth flows. At that point we were far away still. The view was down a river valley that separates the volcano from the surrounding areas and slowly we descended into the valley, having come down a road from Pelileo (not the road that goes to Baños).
On the road to Cotaló, a town in the shadows of the mountain, the last town that more or less has evaded the worst of the ash -- with only the southern part of town and the hill beyond really damaged -- we ran into lots of tourists who had come to see the volcano. The police didn't allow them to continue onwards to town, but we were allowed through because of the food we were carrying. When we arrived, there were townsfolk organizing the distribution of the aid, and our pickup truck was directed to go to the absolute last town standing where people hadn't been evacuated, Chacauco. Chacauco was covered in ash. The tree tomatos, potatos, corn, etc, clearly were done for. The tin and eternit (abspestos based corrugated sheet) roofs were covered in ash. The people who received us said that we were the first people who had arrived with aid, more than a day and a half after the most recent major explosions and a day after the president visited to look around.
As we arrived, we also saw the cattle, llamas, and horses alongside the road. Their backs were covered in ash and they had nothing they could eat. In Cotaló, the haciendas have escaped the ash, while the people living to the south on the side of the mountain, who have only tiny pieces of land, have been the people affected. Apparently the owners of the haciendas have not accepted evacuated cattle. The evacuated animals were all on the soccer field in Cotaló, but a large number of animals still weren't evacuated. These beasts, which are people's earnings and assets rolled up into one, are without food or shelter. When we arrived, people thanked us profusely as we deposited the food into the empty community building. The only other aid that had arrived there was a pile of reject bananas of the sort that are only fit for animal consumption. One woman told us that she was chopping it up into bits that the guinea pigs will eat when they get hungry enough.
Despite the danger, the people do not want to leave Chacauco. Of the 49 families that live there, only two have been evacuated. Where can they go? How can they abandon their animals? How can they abandon their lives? So they stay, knowing that their poverty is worse now than ever. They are probably making the right choice, there is no reason to think that they could have better lives, and there is no reason to think the authorities will help. In Chacauco we were only a short ways above the river that protected the town from any flows and looking across to the other side we could clearly see the abandoned town of Cusúa. Cusúa was not actually as covered by ash as Chacauco. This town sits on the road from Baños to Riobamba. Just to the south of the town a major lava/rock flow had gone down to the river, crossing the road. In its path it had destroyed a couple of greenhouses, the only structures that I saw that were actually completely destroyed. Just to the north of town was another flow. The town has been miraculously saved up to the moment, but I don't expect that to continue.
We then decided to check things out and we went down the road to the bridge across the river. From the bridge, we looked down probably 50 feet down the steep walls of volcanic rock to the river. The place was absolutely covered in ash. Probably less than a centimeter thick, but that little is enough to finish off life. Since before our entry into Cotaló things had begun to stink, in fact on Friday night when I took the pictures I sent before, even in Salasaca things were stinky. Down at the bridge, we were talking about how we hadn't heard any booms. In Salasaca we frequently hear what is like thunder, but right next to the house. Usually there is a sort of rumbling boom. A few moments after we commented about the lack of noise right next to the volcano, we heard a boom which was fast, like a gunshot. We proceeded onwards, going past another abandoned town named Bilbao. It was a town quite similar to Chacauco, but with the big disadvantage of being on the other side of the river. We saw abandoned houses, an enormous abandoned dump truck, and abandoned dogs. I imagine the situation further up the mountain is much sadder. People work the land and put their houses on incredibly steep slopes, because they have no access to better lands. At this point we proceeded onwards towards Cusúa and got out of the pickup about 100 meters from the ash/lava flow.
There were a number of cars there and people. We advanced towards the flow and and as I was looking at how the ash covered up leaves we heard another boom. Then, the people near the flow started running in my direction yelling at everyone to leave. We retreated back to the bridge. Apparently the loudspeakers from Chacauco had shouted for us to retreat because rocks were being shot out from the mountain. These rocks vary in size from very small to the size of someone's head. They are hot. When we looked up I could see an ash cloud spewing from the top of the mountain. The cloud had a reddish tint. The day had been cloudy, and this was the first visual evidence of the volcano's activity that we had seen all day. At this point we retreated to Chacauco and eventually made our ways up to Cotaló after a fair amount of conversation with the locals, from there we could see lines of smoke sliding down the mountain that indicated to us where the lava and rocks were falling. Some of our group went back down and eventually went to the flow itself and grabbed some rocks, one of which they gave to me. However, the more cautious of us felt that there was no reason to tempt fate, we had been close enough to truly appreciate what had happened.
When we finally we came home, leaving Cotaló, we saw one of the strangest rainbows I've ever seen. It was just a short section and instead of being against the background of the sky, it was below us, against the background of the mountain. I'm not at all spiritual, it seems to me that the rainbow is as much a deception of hope as anything else. It's sad to see that a lot of the problems being faced could have been easily prepared for. A few big government constructed barns and some stored food for both the animals and the people could have basically had everyone in okay condition.
Of course, I saw the most dramatic area of destruction, but there have been major problems with ash as far away as Guaranda, and the ash is a much bigger problem than the actual destruction caused by the lava or rocks. Rosa's grandfather has told us about how his father survived the eruption in 1920 and how then there were enourmous amounts of ash in Salasaca that killed the plants and animals, and that at that time food was donated by other areas. When we collected food today, the people in the community were generous. It is sad to think that the only people who have arrived with food to support the people at the base of the mountain are just as poor as the people affected. Here nobody can count on the wealthy and the government to solve problems. As we came back, the number of observers had multiplied exponentially, but none of the people arriving came with food for the people or for their animals. From their cars they happily checked out the excitement from afar, without ever aproaching the people who are suffering.
Right now, I'm back at home. Since night fell, I can look out my kitchen window and see the lava spewing out the mountain. I feel perfectly safe and don't think many people will die from an eruption. Baños is the only city right next to Tungurahua, and at least for the time being it seems to be on the other side of the action. That said, the lives of many people will be ruined, and I can only hope that the number of people whose lives are ruined won't be too high.
posted by Gabriel Many at 4:44 PM
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