Tourism has reached our Siona community, but its economic benefits are still limited. Only around fifteen percent of our families are directly involved. Some rent privately owned huts to visitors, while others find temporary work with tour operators. These families can earn reasonably well, but most people in the community still depend on farming, especially growing corn.
The difference between agriculture and tourism is easy to see. Corn is essential to us, but it takes about six months before it can be harvested. During the tourist season, a souvenir can sometimes be made and sold on the same day. That quick income is important when a family needs to buy food, clothes or school supplies.
Women and children do much of the souvenir-making. For women, earning money directly has brought some recognition within our households and community. Men see that our work contributes to the family income. But I do not want to exaggerate the change. Women still earn much less than men, and selling handicrafts has not solved the wider problems of inequality.
Selling souvenirs has earned women more respect, but respect is not the same as equality—and men still earn much more than we do.
Tourism also affects the way we organise community life. Traditionally, every member is expected to take part in mingas, when we work together for the benefit of everyone. During the high tourist season, some families became so busy earning money that they stopped attending.
This created tension because the work still had to be done. Our community therefore introduced a penalty. Anyone who does not participate must pay a fee, and that money is used to hire someone else to take their place. It is a practical solution, although it also shows how individual tourism income can sometimes conflict with communal responsibilities.
Our contact with tourists is deliberately limited. Guides usually stand between visitors and the community. They explain the rules and help prevent problems. If a guide behaves badly or ignores our agreements, we can report that person to the Cuyabeno park keeper, and the guide may be suspended.
Some visitors may find this distance surprising, but it protects us. We want tourism to provide income without allowing strangers to enter every part of our lives. Contact should happen in a way that respects the community and does not turn our daily life into a performance.
We welcome visitors, but welcoming them does not mean giving up control over our community or allowing tourism into every part of our lives.
I am cautiously hopeful about the future. Our rural organisation, ONISE, is developing a new marketing initiative. At present, much of the profit from tourism stays with the tour operators, even though many Siona people work for them. If we can market more of our activities ourselves, a larger part of the income may remain with local families.
For this to work, participation must spread beyond the small number of families already involved. Women should receive fairer opportunities and payment, and tourism should support rather than weaken our shared obligations. We do not need tourism to replace farming or community life. We need it to become one additional source of income that we can manage on our own terms.
Visitors can help in simple ways. After a long walk, buy a drink from one of our small local shops instead of bringing everything from outside. Look at the handicrafts and buy a souvenir directly from the person who made it. These may seem like small purchases to a tourist, but the money can matter greatly to a family.
The best tourism is not measured only by how many people visit us, but by whether its benefits reach more families—especially the women whose work is too easily overlooked.