The Condor and the Eagle
Image of “The Condor and The Eagle” movie poster.
https://thecondorandtheeagle.com/
A rush of brightly colored, transitioning animations opens up the documentary film, “The Condor and the Eagle.” We see color and sweeping movement and birds morphing into a river out of which a dancing woman emerges and then spirals back into a soaring bird, all depicted in vivid, eye-capturing animations.
When Amazon Frontlines first emailed me about the special screening of this film, I thought the title sounded familiar. As soon I saw the opening scenes with these unique animations telling the native prophecy of the condor and the eagle, I realized why I was experiencing déjà vu. I had seen the film previously through a film festival. Since I had already committed my evening to watching the special screening, though, I decided to stick with watching the documentary all the way through again, perhaps looking for things I missed the first time or refreshing my memory of the issues it covered.
In “The Condor and the Eagle,” we follow the journey of several indigenous environmental activists. We are taken to various parts of the continent. Alberta, Canada with Melina. Houston, Texas with Bryan. Manchester, Texas with Yudith. Oklahoma with Casey. All four of these leaders are community organizers in their own way, addressing environmental problems that have been ignored by elected officials but which pose a dangerous threat to the health and wellbeing of their indigenous communities. There is fracking, there is drilling, there are pipelines, and there are oil spills, all disproportionately affecting communities of color. Casey powerfully refers to this as a situation in which “the extractive industry is reeking genocidal processes on us.” It is no longer smallpox and the Trail of Tears, Casey explains. Today, the atrocity against indigenous peoples is in the form of environmental genocide.
We get a glimpse into the lives of each of these activists and we begin to see how their stories overlap. Although they live in different parts of the continent, all of them are continuing the fight of their ancestors: the fight to simply survive. We see the evidence of systematic environmental racism against indigenous people in their stories of families who can’t breathe and all-too-common experiences of nosebleeds, asthma, respiratory illnesses because of close proximity and exposure to environmental hazards.
Juxtaposed against these scenes of the harsh realities of indigenous people’s suffering through images of factories spewing pollution and rivers full of dead fish, we see a man in a suit, a representative from Valero at a city hall meeting in Houston. It is unlikely that this man has to deal with the consequences of crude oil expansion, but his sole-voice seems to be the only one in that decision for expansion as he stands between the neat rows of benches in the hall. We feel a sigh of relief when we see Yudith step up and make an unfaltering public comment that the community must be a part of these decision making processes since they are the ones ultimately paying the price.
The film transitions as we get another treat of bright, spiritual animations with a slow drum beat accompanying the movement. Our favorite animated bird flaps its wings as it lands near the Tigre River in Peru, and we dive into the journeys of Yudith, Bryan, and Melina travelling to South America. The camera pans over lush, green rainforests, and wide rivers of Peru and Ecuador.
Although this scenery can be deceptive and imply complete preservation of land, Yudith, Bryan, and Melina hear stories that contradict the idea that it has gone untouched. Julia Chuje Ruiz, a leader in the Community of Nuevo Remanente in Peru, tells Bryan of the heartbreaking reality that many community members, including 6 of her children, died after drinking water from their local river. No one had told them that oil was spilled into the river. No one had told them not to drink the water or that it had become toxic.
It’s not just Julia’s community, we learn. Oil companies have targeted areas in and near the Amazon to exploit the land and its people. The government, which benefits off of the profit, uses sneaky tactics to ensure that oil companies can continue to extract resources no matter the damage to these communities. Indigenous people have paid a hefty price for that greed. Oil spills are never cleaned up. Rivers that function as important resources for local communities are contaminated. We see proof of this as Melina dips her hand into water from a river, only for her white glove to come out thickly coated with dark oil.
Yudith, Bryan, and Melina hear from local activists who have fought hard to protect their communities from the ravaging and powerful fossil fuel industry. But their trip to the heart of the Amazon is about more than just taking notes on strategies to use back home. As the 3 activists connect with the land and people of the Sarayuka Jungle and Yasuni River, Yudith comments on the fact that she is finally able to breathe without fear of what she is inhaling - a liberating experience. As Bryan explains it, it’s about discovering indigenous roots and “finding your way back home.” In the United States, indigenous people were so heinously stripped of their culture, that this generation finds it difficult to understand their identity and their heritage. For indigenous peoples living tucked away in the dense canopies of Peru and Ecuador, they were able to accomplish something that indigenous peoples in America were not given the chance to: they fought hard to preserve their way of life, and for the most part, are able to continue to live traditionally without compromising their culture. Perhaps being able to maintain that sense of identity and heritage is what gives indigenous communities in this region the leg up on mobilizing to protect their lands, resulting in the powerful, united fight we see them leading today.
When Yudith, Bryan, and Melina return to North America, we see activists, led in part by Casey, coming together in front of the White House to march against the Keystone XL Pipeline extension, which stretches from the Tar Sands in Alberta to the Gulf of Mexico. Pipelines tend to be an enemy of environmentalists because of their potential to spill oil, causing deadly contamination of land and water. They also leak greenhouse gases and other hazardous liquids, leading to more death and destruction. The threat of environmental devastation from the Keystone XL Pipeline, spanning such a long distance, would transcend borders and significantly impact communities all across the continent. The scenes of this protest are a fitting way to wrap up the film since the Keystone XL Pipeline is the embodiment of the continuous threat posed on both indigenous communities and our environment, which are inextricably linked. Although the construction of the extension was resumed by the current president, just days ago, the Supreme Court ruled that the construction of the Keystone XL Pipeline would have to come to a halt. While this is a temporary win for environmentalists and indigenous rights activists alike, the same ruling also allows for over 70 pipelines to proceed construction. As we are reminded throughout “The Condor and the Eagle,” the fossil fuel industry is the most powerful industry in the world; their relentless destruction of our planet is not likely to end so easily. But, taking inspiration from the resilient leaders in the film, that does not mean we stop fighting.
So did anything change the second time I saw this documentary? I think so. Oftentimes, I am drawn to documentaries with drama, tears, and the urge to clap loudly at the end. My favorite documentaries are the ones that have me furiously Google searching to find an organization to donate to or running to the Kleenex box after the film is over. The first time I watched “The Condor and the Eagle,” I didn’t feel any of those things. I didn’t know what to make of some scenes. I felt as though the filmmakers weren’t being clear enough in what they were trying to say. But the second time around, I was actually more appreciative of that fact.
“The Condor and the Eagle,” doesn’t need to follow the same tracks of a blockbuster documentary film. It doesn’t need to have a dramatic soundtrack and evocative editing, showing you exactly how you need to feel. The documentary preserves the reality of the indigenous community’s experiences, because that reality is harsh enough without any Hollywoodization or added spectacle. The injustices against our planet and the indigenous community are too plainly horrific on their own. After I got over the fact that this documentary didn’t succumb to the typical cookie-cutter style of many documentaries, I was able to understand the message of the film so much better and actually appreciate the way things were not played up, but instead laid out honestly.
Needless to say, I highly recommend this documentary. It’s important for us to understand the interconnectedness of environmental issues and human rights, as well as the long fight for justice that indigenous communities have been leading. As Crystal Lameman, a member of the Beaver Lake Cree Nation accurately puts it in the film, “If you drink water, and you breathe air, this is about you. This is no longer an ‘Indian’ problem. This is about you.”
The movie is available for only $6 to rent here: https://www.filmsforaction.org/watch/the-condor-and-the-eagle/