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169 6 The School in the City producing the cofán of the future On a December morning in 2001, I used my satellite telephone to call Quito from Zábalo. Word had arrived that Randy Borman was seriously sick. Amelia Quenamá answered. She told me that her husband was bedridden with a crushing, days-old headache. He had been to multiple Quito doctors. None offered a diagnosis, and his condition was worsening. I handed the phone to Bolivar Lucitante, the community president. After discussing the illness, Lucitante and Quenamá decided that I should bring Cofán plant medicine to Quito, where I would stay before returning to Chicago for Christmas. Zábalo residents collected three bundles of plants. On our canoe ride to Lago Agrio, we stopped in Doreno to collect more medicinal offerings. On the Aguarico, Borman’s ill health had become common knowledge. Before leaving Zábalo, I spoke with Lucitante and Antonio Aguinda1 about the situation. They were extremely anxious. Although they hoped that the medicine would help, they suggested that Borman’s best option was to seek the services of a powerful headwaters shaman. Borman’s immobile status in the capital, however, made shamanic intermediation unlikely. Lucitante and Aguinda did not know which enemies were attacking. They assumed that hostile Napo Runa or Secoya curaga were behind the assault. In recent years, Zábalo had become embroiled in contentious land conflicts with both peoples. Considering Borman’s fragile state and possible demise, Lucitante and Aguinda were uncertain of Zábalo’s future. Without a true na’su of either the community or the FSC, they feared an impending disaster. I asked whether Roberto Aguinda would be able to replace Borman. They replied negatively. They said that his imperfect Spanish and lack of other political skills made him an unsuitable candidate. Then, I suggested that the oldest sons of Borman and Lucitante, who were studying in outside high schools, might be able to take over some of the political work. Again, they dismissed the possibility. They explained that the young men had not finished their studies. In short, Borman was still irreplaceable—and still indispensable. 170 An Experiment in Indigenous and Environmental Politics Luckily, Borman did not die. It turned out that a probable case of equine encephalitis caused his pituitary gland to stop working, necessitating a slow recovery with hormone replacement therapy. Gradually, Borman regained some of his strength and assumed his former position. Nevertheless, the incident made people acutely aware of the need to reproduce his skills in other individuals. One Zábalo resident explained, “Truly, we only have one knowledgeable, capable person like Randy here. Because of that, we really want a lot of people, my own children or other people’s children, to learn and then to become the supporters, the helpers, of this community, as well as of all Cofán land and the other Cofán communities. With this, we will exist securely.” Another man put the situation in the starkest terms, stating simply, “If Randy dies, how will we live?” In this chapter, I investigate Cofán people’s struggle to turn their children into multilingual and multicultural leaders. The effort is mediated by cultural assumptions concerning childhood and socialization as well as the ideological associations of shamanic apprenticeship. Earlier experiences of schooling in Cofán territory, moreover, inform understandings of the urban institutions that represent the best hope for producing Cofán youths with the ability to become global activists. Residing away from their families and communities represents a real risk, however, and no one is sure what the ultimate fruits of the FSC’s “Education Project” will be. Nevertheless, all Cofán realize that the formal education of their children is a necessary effort. Only a handful of students have completed the process. Although they are still young, it is possible to learn from their experiences to understand the logic and prospects of the struggle to create a generation of leaders who can replace “the gringo chief.” childhood, socialization, and schooling in zábalo The A’ingae word for child is du’shu. The Cofán describe small children as “unripe.” From the Cofán perspective, children are paradoxical beings. They display exaggerated symptoms of subjectivity, such as crying, yelling, complaining, and fighting. Nevertheless, people believe that they perform the expressions without reason or cause. Men and women fawn over infants and appreciate their humorous, albeit irrational, behavior. After a child begins to walk, however, people react...

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