God in the rainforest
Newly released by Oxford University Press is Kathryn Long’s history of “Operation Auca” and its aftermath:
God in the Rainforest: A Tale of Martyrdom & Redemption in Amazonian Ecuador
Though the story has been told many times, it hasn’t been treated with such scholarly thoroughness and perspectival nuance as in this book.
Or such is the expectation.
I’m delighted to have received a free copy from my Uncle Tim, who’s credited in the acknowledgments as a draft reader.
I probably won’t have time to read the book until next month. (My dissertation is due the first week in April.) Until then, I merely note that the typesetting rightly avails itself of the Qu ligature with the long-tailed “Q”:
This is the biggest missionary story that I grew up hearing about. I’m related to some of its peripheral figures.
Perhaps my own interest in it has been weaker than it should have been.
The Waorani are, of course, a small tribe, and if they’d had their way, they would’ve remained even more isolated from the Ecuadorian mainstream than history has allowed them to do. (In contrast, while my own hometown, Esmeraldas, also has been slow to integrate into the national mainstream, at least it has contributed many of the country’s top soccer players.)
Today, the Waorani are considered to be of vital interest to Ecuador – or, at least, their land is. For underneath their land is oil, the extraction of which is necessary for improving Ecuadorians’ lives and for paying governmental debts.
It’s complicated now to take this land from the Waorani. Indigenous Ecuadorians have formed coalitions and gained political power. Their land rights, while not always respected, are increasingly acknowledged.
There’s a tension in how the country wishes to operate. It wishes to respect the special rights of its various peoples – while lifting millions up from poverty. And the Waorani are at the heart of that tension.
A cursory examination shows that the book touches on these matters better than previous books have done. The book connects the Waorani’s story to that of broader Ecuadorian society – and not just through gringo intermediaries (missionaries, oil workers, or anthropologists).
Of course, the Waorani would be worth learning about even if they’d remained as isolated as, say, the Sentinelese. Every people is worth learning about.
And so is every missionary, whether or not he is my kinsman.
God in the Rainforest: A Tale of Martyrdom & Redemption in Amazonian Ecuador
Though the story has been told many times, it hasn’t been treated with such scholarly thoroughness and perspectival nuance as in this book.
Or such is the expectation.
I’m delighted to have received a free copy from my Uncle Tim, who’s credited in the acknowledgments as a draft reader.
I probably won’t have time to read the book until next month. (My dissertation is due the first week in April.) Until then, I merely note that the typesetting rightly avails itself of the Qu ligature with the long-tailed “Q”:
This is the biggest missionary story that I grew up hearing about. I’m related to some of its peripheral figures.
Perhaps my own interest in it has been weaker than it should have been.
The Waorani are, of course, a small tribe, and if they’d had their way, they would’ve remained even more isolated from the Ecuadorian mainstream than history has allowed them to do. (In contrast, while my own hometown, Esmeraldas, also has been slow to integrate into the national mainstream, at least it has contributed many of the country’s top soccer players.)
Today, the Waorani are considered to be of vital interest to Ecuador – or, at least, their land is. For underneath their land is oil, the extraction of which is necessary for improving Ecuadorians’ lives and for paying governmental debts.
It’s complicated now to take this land from the Waorani. Indigenous Ecuadorians have formed coalitions and gained political power. Their land rights, while not always respected, are increasingly acknowledged.
There’s a tension in how the country wishes to operate. It wishes to respect the special rights of its various peoples – while lifting millions up from poverty. And the Waorani are at the heart of that tension.
A cursory examination shows that the book touches on these matters better than previous books have done. The book connects the Waorani’s story to that of broader Ecuadorian society – and not just through gringo intermediaries (missionaries, oil workers, or anthropologists).
Of course, the Waorani would be worth learning about even if they’d remained as isolated as, say, the Sentinelese. Every people is worth learning about.
And so is every missionary, whether or not he is my kinsman.