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Electricity arrived in late February at San Jose de Payamino. The work on the line had begun just before Christmas and was completed with unusual speed and efficiency by Ecuadorian standards. The party to celebrate the switching on of the lights was scheduled for the 3^rd of March, but the street lights and connection to the houses in the village were up and running a week before the event. From out of nowhere sound systems, TV’s and DVD players appeared in people’s houses and all of a sudden the dawn chorus was overpowered by the sound of Kichwa music blaring throughout the village courtesy of Wayusa Upina, the local radio station’s early morning Kichwa-language show.

The party itself was a grand affair, with the mayor of Loreto present along with representatives from the provincial and parish councils, the electricity company and sundry other folk of local renown and distinction, all of whom were indulged with spots in the programme to make grand and glorious speeches that dragged into a three-hour marathon of tedium, followed by a huge meal and topped-off with drinking and dancing till dawn. Everyone patted each other on the back haughtily, ribbons were cut, a plaque was unveiled celebrating the head of the electricity company and the Teniente Politico made a grand speech proclaiming the wonders of President Correa (who’s face adorned a giant banner behind the stage, reminding us that that the Citizen’s Revolution was now en marcha), before boldly requesting that the electricity company should give Payamino free electricity for a year. This was met by much applause and followed by a speech from the head of the electricity company explaining, somewhat bashfully, that for a number of administrative and financial reasons, that wasn’t possible.

The newly-illuminated Payamino attracted more than the local celebs and politicians: an unprecedented abundance of strange and exotic bug life was suddenly thrust upon me by the kids, attracted by the novelty of electrical illumination, including a colossal Hercules beetle, one of the largest insects in existence, which can grow to over six inches in length in some cases.

This was a big deal for Payamino. A community that had resigned itself to being marginalised by the modern world was suddenly being blessed by modern infrastructure. After all, the electricity line had been constructed some years ago as far as Campo Alegre, a neighbouring, non-indigenous community, only six kilometres away, reinforcing the point of view that colonos receive preferential treatment over the indigenas. But things were starting to change: the demolition derby track that leads into Payamino had just been resurfaced; the parish council had confirmed that work was about to start on a bridge spanning the river that cuts Payamino off from vehicular access whenever it rains (which, in the Amazon, is often), and now, Payamino was really moving forward; Payamino was illuminated!

But for all the bright lights and the dazzle of modernity, Payamino’s future remains in the balance. Beyond the comforting glow of streetlights and TV screens, something ominous is lurking in the darkness beyond the village, something which could have a much greater impact on Payamino’s future than any amount of infrastructure development.

It all began a couple of weeks previously when Elias caught me on my way back from the river. He had a sabalo fish, which he had just caught, and was a little drunk. He started off asking a bunch of largely unintelligible questions about the latest round of Ministry of Tourism training that had begun that week before slurring onto some kind of statement about the community directiva needing to be asked about something or other. It took me a while to realise that he’d moved onto a completely different topic; something was said about a neighbouring community allowing access to a petrol company, followed by a vow to fight this with the parish council.

The next couple of weeks were filled with ominous events: rumours of meetings between the parish leaders and a petrol company, low-flying helicopters – one of which supposedly touched down at Pato Rumi, at the furthest end of the Payamino territory. Bits and pieces of news and gossip began to filter through until finally a true picture of events started to form: the company had its eyes on Payamino.

Writing this four months on, it’s hard to recall the specific order in which the truth finally emerged, but it took a typically long time, with an awful lot of reading between the lines and separating rumours and half-truths from the facts to finally get a real idea of what was actually going on.

In recent years, the state-owned petrol company, Petroamazonas, has been taking possession of a number of inert ‘bloques’ (oil concessions) from various private companies - most notably Brazil’s state-owned Petrobras and the Spanish company, Repsol - and have embarked on a flurry of activity to get these sites up and running. One of these bloques, number 18, lies across a number of communities within the San Jose de Payamino parish, including the north-eastern part of the San Jose de Payamino community territory. The company decided that it wanted to sink an exploratory well at the headwaters of the Balsayacu River, which drains into the Payamino River at the point at which it enters the community’s territory.

The community was divided in its response to the situation: whilst some made noises about wanting to fight the petrol company, others saw the dollar signs and wholeheartedly embraced the idea. Trying to get an honest opinion from anyone, however, proved to be impossible. Only one person openly told me that they supported the idea, everybody else I spoke to either said what they thought I wanted to hear or kept a diplomatic silence. A meeting was called to discuss the situation; I prepared myself with a little research into the effects of petrol operations elsewhere in Ecuador: the facts and figures relating to water contamination, loss of crops, livestock and even human fatalities were terrifying. What would happen if there was a spill at Balsayacu? The Payamino community is defined and sustained by its river: most of the inhabited areas of the community lie alongside it, the community uses it for transport, for washing, for cooking, for making chicha; most of the protein in their diet comes from fish taken from the river.  Oil contamination upriver from the community would be catastrophic for them.

The day of the meeting came, but the petrol issue failed to feature in the agenda, sidelined by a whole bunch of other, largely irrelevant stuff. When the ‘any other business’ point finally came around I butted in and said my piece, talking those present into voting for a decision of whether or not they were going to oppose the company’s plans. After some discussion in Kichwa, a decision was finally made to oppose them. However, I wasn’t convinced that what I was hearing was anything more than an on-message gesture to keep me happy.

The end of March came and I returned to England for a couple of months to renew my visa and catch up with the real world for a short while. I got back to Ecuador in early June and, after a short while getting a few bits and pieces in order in Quito, I made my way back down to Coca, and from there into Payamino. On my first day back I was greeted by an interesting update: a community liaison team from the petrol company was coming in the following day to meet with the community. Once again, the usual picking through rumours and half-truths was carried out: the community had signed a deal to allow access to the company to carry out exploratory work in the Balsayacu. I asked the president why he changed his mind from his decision to fight against them in March. He said he felt he didn’t have a choice: he could have either let them in the front door and gained some benefit for the community, or he could have tried to stand up against them, at which they just would have found another point of access, and the community would have come away empty-handed. I wasn’t sure I believed his motivations, but the reasons he gave were certainly true, and undoubtedly there were political machinations taking place way above his level of authority to make sure things moved forward as intended.

The community liaison team came in the following day, a trio of dumpy, sweaty men waddling about in head-to-toe denim. They presented their proposition: they were carrying out a topographic study, an environmental impact assessment and would soon be carrying out a socio-economic survey of the community, as well. To move ahead with all of this, they would need to go through a negotiation with the community in order to broker a three-year deal for access to be granted. Once this was complete, the survey work would ascertain whether or not the area was suitable for oil extraction, at which point a second deal would be brokered to allow that to go ahead. Part of the second deal would include the legal requirement for the company to hand over 12% of the operation’s profits to the parish. This could potentially be a huge amount of money – millions of dollars, in fact. However, the money would be up for grabs for all of the 18 communities in the parish, and would only be handed over as funding for development projects that would have to be submitted as highly technical proposals, something that would be well above the abilities of anyone in Payamino. This part of proceedings would only apply if the extraction site looks viable - a step or two beyond where we are at present.

The community presented its demands for the exploration work to go ahead and a subsequent meeting was called in which the company listed what it was willing to help out with. An impressive array of benefits would be coming the community’s way: the derelict health centre would be equipped, stocked with medicines and staffed, with housing for a nurse provided; new school rooms and housing for teachers would also be built. Canoes, outboard motors, education grants and university scholarships, kitchen gardens, agricultural projects, playgrounds and more were also promised, not to mention $60,000 for use of the 20 hectare site where they would be carrying out their work. Additionally, many community members will be benefitting from employment as canoe drivers, field assistants, guides and manual labour for the company.

Regardless of whether or not the extraction site comes up with the goods, Payamino will be receiving all of these, with any ongoing parts of the deal being valid for three years. If the well does prove to be viable they will be getting a whole lot more, including the possibility of benefitting from the 12% that goes back to parish. The feeling in the community is generally upbeat: they are suddenly looking at the promise of a massive acceleration in their development, but at what cost? In amongst all the propaganda for and against petrol companies in Ecuador, it is impossible to get an idea of what the real risks are. The best that can be hoped for is that the site doesn’t prove to be worthwhile and the community will get all the benefits from the initial deal without any of the risks associated with petrol extraction. Only time will tell what may happen, however, if the site does turn out to be worth working on.