Nadja Drost is a first-time filmmaker and a social and environmental activist. She has dedicated the past several years to raising concern over Canadian involvement in oil development in Ecuador's Amazon. She felt compelled to make a film in order to better expose the impact of oil exploitation on Ecuadorian people and eco-systems.

She now lives in Ottawa where she works on policy analysis and advocacy of human rights and social justice issues in Latin America.

I came to this film not as a filmmaker, but as a social and environmental activist who had become fascinated with oil issues in the Ecuadorian Amazon years ago when I lived and worked in Ecuador.

The Amazon conjures up images of lush carpets and canopy of greenery teeming with life. The reality in Northern Ecuador is a social and environmental tragedy, where one is just as likely to stumble upon a toxic cess-pool of crude oil as a monkey. Living in this midst are indigenous peoples who are seeing their culture rapidly disappear as a result of oil-driven development, as well as settlers. Both groups are struggling to eek out a living in a country that has relegated them to second-class citizens.

Ecuador has been exploiting its oil reserves for over 30 years in a desperate attempt to generate revenue in the poverty-stricken country, make good on its overwhelming debt, and satisfy IMF-dictated policies. Yet while the country has seen greater indebtedness, widening social inequality, and the destruction of Amazonian ecosystems and indigenous cultures, oil continues to be revered as the economic panacea for Ecuador.

As a result, foreign oil companies receive a warm welcome by the Ecuadorian Government –- among them are a series of Canadian companies who have come and gone, only to leave behind a crude mess. Several years after returning to Canada, I learned that a new 500 km-long pipeline called the OCP (Heavy Crude Pipeline) was in the making. It would start in Ecuador's Amazon, traverse the earthquake-prone Andes, and descend to the Pacific Ocean from where the oil would be shipped off to Western consumers. At the pipeline's helm was Calgary oil and gas giant EnCana, who had taken over Alberta Energy's operations in northern Ecuador. As the lead shareholder in the pipeline, EnCana had become one of the main targets of the widespread opposition to the pipeline that was developing both in Ecuador and internationally.

I started to gather funds for a campaign on the Canadian connections to oil issues in Ecuador which I ran out of the Toronto Environmental Alliance, and later on, through GlobalAware. My work aimed at raising concerns about the Canadian connections to oil development in the Amazon through the media and the investment community. As a part of this work, I returned to Ecuador for over a month. Despite the fact that I had barely held a video camera before and had no idea what making a film really entailed, I decided that the story of oil in Ecuador and Canadian involvement had to be told.

EnCana operates in an area where the confluence of settlers, military, oil companies, and indigenous peoples often gives rise to tension and conflict. The situation raised interesting questions about the morality of operating in such an area, and in a country where environmental regulations are notoriously weak.

The case of EnCana in Ecuador illustrated many of the ethical pitfalls facing Canadian companies operating abroad, particularly in developing countries. In order to protect themselves against concerned consumers and well-developed campaigns, companies increasingly have to create and, arguably, to meet criteria of "corporate responsibility". EnCana was an interesting case in that the company claimed that it was different from other companies in Ecuador, in raising the bar in terms of corporate responsibility and its commitment to live up to its own high standards. I wanted to explore whether it was at all possible for a company to be a "good corporate citizen" in an oil- producing area with a history stained by environmental contamination, near-extinction of indigenous nations, suppression by military forces, and wide-spread corruption.

While I was fascinated by the case of Canadian corporate involvement in an Amazon controversy, I was aware that Canadians might dismiss yet another film on big companies doing bad things somewhere far away in the world. I hoped that if I inserted myself as a character in the film, viewers could use me as a vehicle to connect to the powerful and brave stories of the Ecuadorians I met on my journey. I had filmed scores of interviews with authorities, experts, and government officials, yet I realized that the more compelling accounts most often belonged to ordinary locals. I was amazed to learn time and time again to what extent peasants were putting themselves at risk in order to protect so little, yet it was precisely because that was all they had. Pride and conviction in what they believed in led the actions of many, rather than the intimidation and difficult circumstances they were exposed to. I realized it was their moving stories that should carry the film.

Ultimately, the point of making the film was to try to get viewers to see, and to care, about the links between our reliance on oil and the devastating impacts our consumption patterns have on local communities and the environment, however far away they may seem. Ecuador's story is not isolated, and it can serve as an example of the troublesome connections between transnational corporate power, Western consumption patterns, and the impact of globalization on the social and economic conditions of local communities.