I spend a lot of time in the rainforest. It’s by far the most rewarding and incredible part of the job but, I’ll be honest, it’s also pretty gruelling. While I’ve managed to avoid the malaria, dengue fever and tuberculosis that’s riddled my (male) colleagues, there are 101 things that make the rainforest a rather disagreeable place.
First and foremost, there’s the heat. It’s so hot you are continually bathing in your own sweat. By the end of a trip, my own stench really is something to behold.
Second absolutely everything bites or stings. Snakes and spiders you can understand. But a caterpillar that can kill a child – really? I’ve also casually brushed against a plant only to feel like I’ve been set on fire. Imagine a stinging nettle on steroids. The sting transformed into an enormous pus volcano on my thigh that considerately exploded in the middle of a meeting.
Third, the runs. No stay in the rainforest is complete without a good old bout of diarrhoea. One of our party was so fearful of what lay ahead he took an entire packet of Imodium before he even entered the forest. Needless to say, he couldn’t defecate for more than a week.
I’ve also contended with quicksand, nearly drowning in rapids, being held at gunpoint, and been made to sing (terribly) for our local hosts.
I would argue that these delightful quirks of the rainforest affect men and women in equal measure. But the one area that I am continuously envious of is the male ability to pee while standing. Despite my best efforts I’ve had to accept that I’ll never accomplish it. It really is a gift from the gods.
Trying to find somewhere to squat that doesn’t reveal my nether regions to all and sundry is the bane of my life. And yes, I have heard of a Shewee but there’s something oddly humiliating about trotting off with a rubber hose in front of your colleagues. I’ll spare you the delights of thrush and periods in the rainforest, I’m sure you get the gist.
What I do find infuriating in all of this is that women who have a sense of adventure, who challenge themselves, or in my case merely marinade themselves in their own sweat, are often described as “having balls”. If a man does something stereotypically feminine, do we heap on praise by declaring “they have a vagina”? Obviously not. So why the hell is it considered complimentary to say that women have testicles? When women do something brave or adventurous, it should be a demonstration of their ability as a woman, not how like a man we can be.
I am completely in awe of the women in our rainforest projects around the world. Their unflappable style is an example to us all – male or female. They pay no attention to the pathetic tribulations I’ve listed above. I’ve watched my young friend Mikaela lop the head off of Peru’s most poisonous snake with a machete without a second thought.
Or what about giving birth in the rainforest? Think of the song and dance we make about childbirth in the UK – we’ve got the bloomin’ NHS. Ana from Cutivireni in Peru has given birth to 14 children with no medical help – half inside a cave while hiding from the Shining Path. I can’t think of anything braver.
These women steadfastly safeguard their families and the forest. Cool Earth is about to celebrate saving its 100 millionth tree. A landmark achievement that is largely down to these incredible women, with no balls in sight.
Kitty Jenkin is the project manager for Cool Earth. Follow @coolearth on Twitter.
Would you like to share your story of working in the field? Email globaldevpros@guardian.co.uk with ‘Field post’ in the headline.
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