During one of our trips to Ecuador, I remember that we walked through an outdoor arts and crafts exhibit. Everything I saw – from jewelry to paintings – was vibrant, alive, mystical, strange, and just staggering in terms of creative talent. But the piece pictured above is what I bought, for about $15, if I remember correctly. It’s made of rose petals. I think of it as the Ecuador alien, and it hangs in our living room.
Tonight, I was rewriting a chapter from the third book in my hungry ghost series, which takes place, like the first book, in Esperanza, Ecuador. This city, which lies at more than 13,000 feet in the Andes – and is totally fictional, okay?- was once a nonphysical place where the souls of the dying – transitionals – went. Here, they decided if they wanted to continue in physical life or move on. These transitionals were preyed upon by brujos – hungry ghosts who seized them, healed them, and then lived out their mortal lives in order to experience the pleasures of physical existence.
The light chasers, evolved souls who have overseen affairs in Esperanza for millennia, decided that the only way to get rid of the brujos was to bring Esperanza into the physical world, which they did 500 years ago. Esperanza now, in the 21st century, retains the magic from when it was a nonphysical location. The veil between the living and the dead is so thin that both chasers and brujos can assume virtual forms and communicate with the living. There’s a community of shape shifters. There are human tensions and needs. But here’s the synchro:
Wayra, the dog/wolf shape shifter who appeared in the first two books, now lives just outside the city, in a home that overlooks Esperanza. As a being that has been alive in one form or another since the late twelfth century, he has quite a collection of art. Charlie, a chaser, drops in to see Wayra…and I immediately wondered how the shifter’s house was decorated. So I Googled Ecuadorian artists and this is what came up first:
The similarities between the Ecuadorian alien piece I bought eight or ten years ago and this piece by Oswaldo Guayasamín floored me. Guayasamin, born in Quito in 1919, is apparently famous for his paintings depicting Andean people. According to this website, “He exposed racism, poverty, political oppression, and class division; common themes throughout the Andes. His work reflected the misery and pain that many people around the world had to experience in the 20th century. He spoke out often against the US and other governments. His work was exhibited around the world. A day of national strikes occurred at his death by indigenous people, who he spent his life supporting.”
Until now, I’d never heard of this artist. I haven’t been able to find out what this particular painting is called, but it’s so strikingly similar to the Ecuadorian alien that I suspect the artist whose work I bought was mimicking Guayasamín.
I poked around on this website for awhile and on this one and honestly wondered if Guayasamin was an abductee or if his creativity, his art, had enabled him to tune into something beyond his own experiences.This synchro is one of those that leaves me completely clueless about the meaning. Maybe it’s just an answer to the question I ask every time I pass my Ecuadorian alien en route from my office to the bedroom or back: What are you? Where did you come from? Why did I buy you and what can you teach me? Until tonight, I’d never heard of Guayasamin. Now he’s on my radar. I have no idea what that means, but I’m hopeful that something more will be revealed.

















