Last night, in a church in Cotacachi, four of the 17 soldiers held captive by indigenous communities since Sunday were released. A respite, yes, but the procession continues internally: 13 children remain inside, the anger over the national strike continues unabated, and a death is on the table. The conflict in Ecuador is far from cooling off; in fact, it seems that fuel is being added to the fire every day.
The news of their release came as a balm amid so much tension. It was the Army itself that confirmed that the four soldiers had been handed over on Monday night, around eight o'clock, at the San Francisco Church. It seemed like a neutral ground, for a gesture intended to decompress, but one that left more questions than answers. As soon as they left, the boys went straight to a medical checkup to see how they were doing after their ordeal. Of the rest, of the other 13 who remain detained, there was not a single official word. A deafening silence that adds spice to the uncertainty of the families and of an entire country that is closely watching what is happening in the province of Imbabura.
A "kidnapping" in the midst of the conflict in Ecuador
For Daniel Noboa's government, the situation is clear and there are no gray areas: it was a "kidnapping." In fact, the Army wasted no time and filed a formal complaint with the Prosecutor's Office, which referred the case to a specialized unit for transnational organized crime. Paperwork goes back and forth, stamps, and bureaucracy while the streets are abuzz. But to understand the full picture, you have to split hairs and rewind a bit.
The soldiers weren't just strolling through Cotacachi. They were part of a group of 50 troops guarding a convoy that, for many, was merely humanitarian in name. It was a caravan of about 100 vehicles, both military and civilian, headed by President Noboa himself and several of his ministers. A deployment that, at the epicenter of the protests, sounded more like a show of force than a simple aid delivery. It was then that some 350 people, according to official figures, blocked their path. Things quickly escalated: Molotov cocktails were thrown at the vehicles, and amid the chaos, the 17 soldiers ended up being held captive by the protesters.
Two stories, one death and a divided country
And on that same day, in that same place, history was stained with blood. Efraín Fueres, an indigenous community member, was shot dead by security forces . He thus became the presumed first fatality of this strike called by the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE), which has now been paralyzing roads and inflaming tempers for nine days. From here, the story splits in two, like the country itself.
On the one hand, CONAIE and grassroots organizations don't speak of a confrontation, but rather of a "planned massacre" and a "state crime." They denounce the military's use of "live ammunition, dynamite, and lethal weapons" against the people. For them, the soldiers' detention is not a kidnapping, but a desperate measure in response to the repression they suffer on their own territory.
On the other hand, the Ministry of Defense has its own story. They report at least twelve soldiers injured since the strike began and present their personnel as victims of a violent ambush. Two versions are colliding head-on, with no bridges in sight, and with a judicial investigation that must determine who is telling the truth in this mess.
The tension does not ease and the world looks askance
Meanwhile, from outside, the situation is viewed with undisguised concern. Through his spokesperson, United Nations leader António Guterres has already expressed his "deep" concern over the spiral of violence that the conflict in Ecuador , specifically mentioning the death of the community leader. A diplomatic slap on the wrist calls on all parties to slow down, guarantee "full respect for human rights," and sit down to talk and resolve disputes "through inclusive dialogue."
A request that sounds logical from a desk in New York, but on the roads of Imbabura it seems like a utopia. The strike continues, the indigenous communities' demands on economic and territorial issues haven't budged an inch, and the government's stance seems to be one of refusing to give in to pressure.
As things stand, the release of the four soldiers is just one chapter in a novel that seems far from over. With 13 soldiers still in the hands of protesters, one death weighing like a ton on the country's conscience, and two irreconcilable narratives, the immediate future is unknown. Ordinary people, those who work every day and see the price of yerba mate, bread, and milk rise due to the blockades, are the ones left in the middle, waiting for the storm to pass. But for now, in Ecuador, all that's left is a dark cloud.
