Since September 2025, in Ecuador, we joined the national strike for several reasons: the lack of medicines in hospitals, lack of investment in education, unemployment, and the elimination of the transportation subsidy. This especially affects the transportation of products from distant communities and women farmers, as well as bus fares for young people.
We held assemblies in the organizations and community councils, forms of grassroots community governance. We have been in the national strike for 33 days, but for us, it is not over: we continue to have people seriously injured and criminalized for having joined the strike, “labeled as terrorists” by the State. We have experienced extreme repression. They fired directly at our comrades’ bodies. Those who were not on the frontlines helped gather alcohol and other supplies to reduce the effects of tear gas.
Brutal repression
People were shouting for help, asking for ambulances or vehicles to transport the wounded. When I arrived and was distributing the liquor, the trucutú came to run us over and fire pepper bombs. We had to move and run into the cornfields. We threw ourselves to the ground to avoid getting hit, and even so, the impact was brutal. Someone shouted that a comrade had been shot and was in extremely critical condition. The area was dark, the smoke was too thick. You could barely see anything, and it was six in the morning. Then the military passed through with what they called a “humanitarian convoy,” which in reality was a formation of police, soldiers, bombs, and dynamite. They killed our comrade Efraín Fuérez. People were furious. I had only seen something like this in movies, but the reality was worse. To this day, we remain psychologically affected. It is psychological warfare.
We evacuated everyone, brought them back to the community, and blocked the road. We locked ourselves in and blocked the routes to prevent the military from coming. Later, when we reached the hospital, Efraín’s family members were crying, and many wounded people refused to be treated. It was heartbreaking. That day we did not eat, we did nothing.
Afterward, a People’s Parliament was formed, involving organizations from the regions of Otavalo and Cotacachi. We traveled as a delegation of leaders to a community. The community president told us, “Hurry, hurry and finish the meeting, they’re coming.” At ten at night, the power and internet went out. They cut everything. People fled with their children, their dogs, their blankets. They went to sleep on the hilltops and ravines, because no one could stay. The latest data reports three people killed, 16 disappeared, more than 470 injured, and more than 200 detained.
The repression exposes racism. They shaved the heads of our comrades. They tried to create conflict between urban and rural comrades, saying we were lazy, terrorists, vandals. That is how we were treated. They forbade the entry of the injured into the hospital. The presence of supportive people who brought medicines and food has been essential. The repression has also tried to divide the communities. Even so, coordination continues with organizations in different regions that are also mobilized. We have 170 injured comrades in the communities of Cotacachi. Solidarity continues with kits, medical brigades, and care to remove pellets. A comrade who just arrived has pellets in his eye, arm, and back. Another has 48 pellets in his back. Another comrade had his leg amputated due to a gunshot. For us, the strike is not over.
We remained in resistance. Women’s roles have been crucial: communicators, caregivers, nurses, and support for families. Yet we were often invisibilized, and we were not prepared for the continuity of the massacre. In our community in Cotacachi, the wounded arrived. Using the wooden boards from the women’s market, we set up rows of beds. We sought volunteers from the communities and the urban center. We treated them, discharged them, and soon others arrived in even worse condition.
Defending constitutional guarantees
On November 16 there will be a national referendum involving several constitutional changes. The questions concern: allowing foreign military bases, eliminating public financing for political organizations, changing the election and number of assembly members, and convening a constituent assembly. We have called on everyone to vote “no,” so that they do not take away rights we have already won. This is our central concern, and that is why we remain in resistance.
As stated in La Vía Campesina’s note published on September 30, 2025, the referendum called by Daniel Noboa’s government seeks to “consolidate an authoritarian regime and perpetuate a model that tramples the legitimate rights of the peoples.” It is necessary to defend what was established in the 2008 Constitution, which remains in force, a constitution that “not only recognizes the collective rights of Indigenous peoples and nationalities, but also grants the right to make decisions over their territories to prevent the impacts of extractive industries and preserve their culture.”
The struggle continues, not only for the original demands of the mobilization, but also for justice for all those who were injured and for Efraín Fuérez, for the three people killed, and for changes to the structures of repression. We will fight for the withdrawal of criminal charges against comrades labeled as terrorists. To international grassroots organizations, especially in Latin America, we call on you to expose the abuses this government has inflicted upon us.
We will continue articulating with organizations toward the election of the new national leadership of the National Confederation of Peasant, Indigenous, and Black Organizations (Fenocin). We hope for leadership that fights and does not leave us behind. We are certain that in February or March 2026, there will be another large mobilization, because the bonuses granted by the government to transport workers and communities will run out. Even more people, more unions, more organizations will rise up. We will continue the struggle until the end. They will not make us afraid.
Luz María Andrade is president of the Women’s Central Committee of the Union of Peasant and Indigenous Organizations of Cotacachi (Unorcac), affiliated with the National Confederation of Peasant, Indigenous, and Black Organizations (Fenocin) in Ecuador, a member of CLOC–LVC. The Unorcac Women’s Central Committee has been active since 1996 and includes 31 women’s groups across 48 communities.
