Home (…in the Amazon)

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I’ve heard a saying from a fish who was asked “How’s the water?” It responded, “What water?” It can be hard to understand the context we’re in until we remove ourselves from that context. Recently, I’ve been experiencing this with my conception of home. When I’m in Michigan, it’s hard to pick out what exactly feels like home. It’s just not something I need to evaluate in my daily life. But, being in Ecuador has led me to reflect on my understanding of my place-based identity. These reflections have been inspired, in part, by some very home-like experiences I’ve had recently. What’s funny is they happened in one of the places you’d least expect: the Amazon rainforest. 

A medium shot captures a group of individuals trekking through a dense, lush rainforest. The foreground is rich with an assortment of broadleaf vegetation, with some leaves appearing glossy and wet, reflecting the moisture in the air. The group consists of five people, all clad in attire suitable for a jungle expedition. They are equipped with backpacks of varying colors, including yellow, teal, and black, indicating possible roles or personal preferences. Notably, the individual nearest to the camera is wearing tall, white rubber boots, which suggest a muddy or wet trail. The background is a wall of green, dominated by plants and trees that thrive in a tropical environment. The density of the forest creates a diffused light, giving the scene a muted, mysterious ambiance. Glimpses of the forest interior reveal more hikers spread out, hinting at the vastness of the trail they are traversing. The focus on the group in the foreground, combined with the blurred backdrop, draws the viewer into the heart of the rainforest adventure.
Hiking in the Amazon

Yep, we’re off on adventures again! After returning from the Cloud Forest, we had one week in Quito before heading to the Amazon. As my host mom says “el tiempo vuela” (time flies!)

There are so many moments from the Amazon that I could write about: learning about the impacts of Petroleum and African Palm Oil, monkey-watching, taste-testing Amazonian fruits and medicinal plants. But for this post, I’m going to focus on just a few moments that, surprisingly, made me think of home. 

On Sunday, we left the town of Limoncocha where we had stayed for the first two days, and headed down the Napo (a tributary of the Amazon River) to our next location. 

The scenery couldn’t be more different from Holland, MI. We boarded our canoe on the shore of the open-air marketplace of the surrounding communities: a collection of semi-stable wooden structures and tarp-tents, underneath which was sold everything from plátano to pajamas. But, getting on the boat was one of the moments in the trip when I was hit with the strongest sensations of home. 

Several narrow boats, painted in shades of white, green, and yellow, are beached along the rocky, muddy shore of a wide river under an overcast sky. The closest boats are angled towards each other, their prows resting on the riverbank that is covered in rounded stones and interspersed with tufts of green grass and vegetation. The forefront boat is a smaller one with a green hull and a white top, partially concealed by the abundance of plant life as if it's been there for some time. Adjacent, larger boats are positioned almost side by side with one covered by a simple, domed green canopy. These boats seem utilitarian, with visible elements like orange life vests and various packs stowed inside. Beyond the boats, the river stretches wide, with its surface a muted brown color. The opposite bank is lined with a dense stretch of trees, marking the horizon under the heavy, grey sky that occupies the upper half of the image. The lighting is soft and diffused, enhancing the somber mood of the scene.
Our two vessels: one for us and the other for our luggage, food, and very talented cook

For those who don’t know me as well, a little context. Water is a big part of the Kamper family. When my parents were newly married, they bought our boat from my grandparents, so for all my life that I can remember, summers have been filled with time on the lake. Every August we go up to Old Mission Peninsula where my grandparents live and spend time at our favorite beach, Hazerot, tubing, skiing, swimming, and soaking up as much summer as possible. 

So, as soon as I heard the phrrr-rut-rut-rut of the motor starting up and smelled the gasoline over the water, I had a feeling of deja vu. The splashing of the water along the sides of the canoe as we cruised down the river, and the wind on my face, all brought back memories of being on the lake.

Before we got to our destination, we took a stop.

A serene landscape depicts a tranquil body of water reflecting a verdant forest under a bright blue sky. The water's surface subtly ripples, creating a distorted yet calming mirror image of the trees. The forest, composed of dense, lush greenery, forms an unbroken line along the horizon. Individual trees are not easily distinguished, but the overall texture of the forest is rich and varied. Above, the sky is a vivid blue, dotted with sparse, feathery clouds that seem to stretch and thin across the expanse. The light is bright and diffused, indicating a clear, sunny day. The overall scene conveys a sense of peace and natural beauty, with the elements of sky, water, and forest harmonizing to create a visually pleasing composition.
Smooth as glass

My immediate thought when I saw the lake was “Smooth. As. GLASS. My dad would love to ski here.” 

We didn’t have any waterskis, but we did get to take a swim break! I was a very happy camper. 

The image shows a body of water with multiple people swimming in the water as viewed from a covered motorboat filled with sitting passengers. In the foreground, the boat provides a partial frame. A green canopy supported by metal poles covers people sitting on the boat. Bags and other belongings are on the floor around the passenger's feet. In the broad, dark water of the midground, heads and upper bodies of the swimmers are visible. The heads and shoulders of seven swimmers are visible in the water. The background consists of a distant, dense line of evergreen trees and foliage. The sky is a clear blue with scattered white clouds.
Swimming felt soooo good

Throughout our time at the lake, I continued to be bombarded with sensations of home: the way that the top layer of the lake was warm, while it’s cool when you dive down, moving my legs in a frog-kick, sitting on the front of the boat and letting the warm sun dry my wet skin. Just being in water, even though it was in the Amazon, somehow made me feel like “Yes, this is where I belong.”

A sunny, eye-level shot shows a woman facing away from the camera and sitting in a small gray boat that floats on a body of water enclosed by trees. The woman’s left leg is visible from the side while her right leg is facing the same direction as her upper body. She wears a navy blue tank top and turquoise swimming trunks. Her hair is brown and pulled back away from her face. Her left hand is braced behind her. The boat is old and worn with visible signs of wear and tear on the gray paint. A green rope is attached to the bow of the boat. The water around the boat is dark and reflective. The treeline behind the boat is lush and green, creating a dense look. Their reflection is visible in the water. The sky above is bright blue with only a few small clouds visible near the horizon. The lighting is bright and clear, suggesting that it is midday.
Sitting on the front of the canoe after swimming. The river was so smooth that I could almost bird-watch by looking down into the water.

Throughout the rest of the trip, similar moments of unexpected familiarity popped up.

A woman stands smiling on a simple wooden bridge crossing a dark, water-filled channel amidst lush, tropical foliage. She wears a light blue, long-sleeved shirt, khaki cargo pants, and tall white rubber boots. A light grey sun hat shades her face, and she has a backpack on, suggesting she's been hiking or exploring. Binoculars hang around her neck, and she holds a small black notebook and pen in one hand. The bridge beneath her is made of moss-covered wooden planks, showing signs of age and exposure to the damp environment. The water in the channel is dark and still, reflecting the dense, green canopy above. Fallen leaves and small debris float on the surface. The surrounding vegetation is dense and varied, with tall trees, thick vines, and broad-leafed plants characteristic of a tropical rainforest. Some of the surrounding trees have drooping palm fronds. The overall impression is one of a verdant, humid, and somewhat wild natural environment being studied or traversed by the woman.
The flooded Igapó ecosystem of the Amazon. The water is tinted like tea from the decaying leaves.

Walking through the flooded Amazon forest, I noticed how a bridge we crossed reminded me of wetland boardwalks at home. 

This close-up outdoor shot features a large brown spider resting on a vibrant green leaf. The backdrop consists of a verdant, lush environment, with numerous leaves and varying shades of green and brown. Focus is on the central object, the spider, contrasting with the damp and foliage-filled background.
Tarantula!
A dark-filtered shot depicts a fair-skinned woman holding a small snake. The woman is dressed in outdoor attire, including a black, button-down shirt and a navy blue, hooded, Patagonia jacket, the jacket featuring the company's logo on the upper left. The jacket's hood is up, framing her face. Her gaze is directed downwards, displaying a tender smile as she looks at the snake in her hands. The snake is pale yellow with black speckles and stripes. The background is obscured by darkness, alluding to a possible nighttime setting.
Tiny, not-poisonous, snake
Image of a dark forest. The picture has areas of very low light making the left side of the frame fade almost entirely into darkness, while the right features a slightly brighter tree trunk, with leaves and foliage draping around it towards the bottom right of the frame. On the left side of the image only faint grassy areas and darker leaves can be seen. The upper portion of the image has more brightly lit tree branches and leaves. The lighting comes from above. The tree trunk on the right side has white patches, from some type of organic growth, and has additional stems and green vegetation surrounding it. Some of these green leave have yellow or light-brownish spots, perhaps a sign of disease. Some areas in the lower right are out of focus.
Except for our headlamps, it was completely dark

An after-dark adventure made me think of night hikes at VanRaalte farm (although with significantly more tarantulas).

In a lush, green tropical forest, a woman stands knee-deep in a freshly dug hole, her face beaming with a wide smile. She is fair-skinned, with a sprinkling of dirt adorning her cheek, and her expression exudes happiness and contentment. She is clad in a long-sleeved gray shirt and dark pants, topped with a floppy sun hat that provides shade from the filtered sunlight piercing through the dense canopy above. In her hand, she firmly grasps a small, handled shovel, a clear indication of her digging activity. The pit she stands in is surrounded by rich, dark soil, scattered with fallen leaves and the occasional twig, all testament to the forest's natural detritus. The forest floor around the pit is a tapestry of green, with various plants, ferns, and small shrubs creating a vibrant and diverse ecosystem. Behind the woman, the forest stretches into the distance, a dense and almost impenetrable wall of green. Trees of varying sizes and shapes, their trunks covered in moss and vines, reach towards the sky, their canopies intertwining to form a verdant roof. The entire scene is bathed in a soft, diffused light, creating a serene and peaceful atmosphere, a testament to the untouched beauty of the tropical forest.
Standing in our soil profile pit
A medium shot captures a person positioned waist-deep in a hole in a jungle with arms raised in a bear-claw position, like a monster emerging from the soil. She is being silly. The woman, is clad in a gray long-sleeved shirt and black pants, also wearing a light-colored hat. Her facial expression is one a pretend scream. Around her, a dense array of jungle vegetation is visible that includes a variety of plant species, different shades of green, brown leaves and branches are scattered on the forest floor. A small shovel with dirt on the blade is held up in one hand. Beside the hole, there's a backpack and a blue and white bottle (likely sunscreen or insect repellent) resting on the ground. The natural light is diffused, creating a soft glow on the scene. The shot appears to be taken at ground level.
Dirt monster!

Digging a soil profile for a mini research project reminded me of working in the dirt at Eighth Day Farm this summer. 

From the perspective of a vessel on the water, possibly a canoe or kayak, a captivating scene unfolds. The surrounding landscape is cloaked in darkness, save for the multitude of tiny, luminous spots that dot the water's surface, evoking the charm of fireflies. In the background, dense trees silhouettes against a cloudy sky are barely visible. A segment of the vessel is captured in the foreground, offering a glimpse into the observer's position. The primary focus of the image is the concentration of these light-emitting organisms, speckling the water like a scattering of stars. Their collective glow creates an enchanting, ethereal atmosphere, amplifying the dreamlike quality of the scene.
Thousands of female glowworms shine on Limoncocha Lagoon while the male fireflies float above

Glow worms out on Limoncocha Lagoon felt like fireflies on the 4th of July

Later, I questioned that “I belong here” feeling a bit more. Do I truly have a place where I “belong” more than another? How should I understand this place-based identity that I am becoming more aware of?  My identity is a part of the family of God, which includes people from all places. There’s nowhere I could go where I couldn’t belong in that family and be a part of that story. I feel a little uncomfortable with seeing my sense of self so deeply connected to something so specific, and, in a way, fragile. I found myself wondering about the experiences of people who leave the land they call home, and never get to go back: immigrants, refugees, and those who have their land destroyed by war or natural disasters. Even with these experiences I have had, I still come nowhere close to being able to imagine the way they must miss their home and the pain that they feel when they get these kinds of unexpected reminders. 

Is it better then, to not have an identity connected to place? I’m not sure. In our debriefing back in Quito this week, we talked about how many of the indigenous peoples of the Amazon are very passionate about conservation. My professor said that this is because their land is their culture. They see no separation between maintaining their way of life and protecting the forest. I realized that, although not to the same extent, this is also part of why I care about earth-keeping. I think that if I have an identity that motivates me to care about something God cares about, that’s at least in part a good thing. 

Ecuador lesson #4: My identity, at a subconscious level, is connected to the physical place I call home. 

It’s definitely something to keep thinking about. Good thing I still have over two months here 🙂

Hasta luego!

-Megan

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