by George Ivanov

Created on: February 21, 2008

Over the horizon, the first rays of the morning sun poked through the clouds. The black outline of the vast rainforest silhouetted against the emerging sunrise. It was pristine, beautiful...a majestic sight, as I watched from the balcony of my bungalow.

The silent tranquility was soon broken by the sounds of bird song; the sounds of nature, as it awoke to meet a new day. On that note, I had to prepare myself too. After all, environmental sustainability would not take care of itself...

Peru is an ancient land. It is mysterious, lively and eternal. The forests harbour the fascinating culture and history of the people who live there. And yet, it all stands to be utterly destroyed. Efficiently and irreversibly.

It's simple, really. Oil and gas. Multinationals; corporations with money, power and influence. Investing billions upon billions into extracting oil and gas, and speaking in the language of international affairs: money.

Given the proximity of my accommodations to the forest, I didn't need to travel far to gather material for my reportage. The two guides I had arranged for to meet me in approximately fifteen minutes, were an activist and a Native leader.

I put on my glasses, and flung the blue overcoat over my shoulders. My hair fell around my face, so I put it behind my ears, and prepared to meet my escorts for the day.

*

"Hello," they both greeted me enthusiastically once I had appeared from the entrance.

The activist was tall and well built; he wore a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, seemingly not minding the rather chilly morning. Still, he was greatly animated, and smiled at me when our eyes met involuntarily a second later. The other one at his side was a shorter man, rather severe in appearance, and although he had kind eyes, his countenance was a lot more serious; he had the air of a government official, though he was not one.

"Hey there," I responded to the greeting in kind.

"Well, let's not waste time here," said the activist. "We can talk on the way."

And so we departed in the direction of the trees. Did I mention we were walking? I mentally admonished myself for not choosing more comfortable shoes...

"My name is John," the activist introduced himself after several minutes of silence.

"Ramos," the stout man echoed the other.

"Jane," I introduced myself in turn. "Good to meet you."

"Likewise."

Again, that awkward silence. We entered the forest. The canopy above provided shade and it was rather cool near the ground. At least I was glad I had taken the coat. Overhead,

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