One by one, colorful wooden rowboats with children at their helms docked on one of the hundreds of tiny islands in Lake Nicaragua. After piling out onto the shore, some students raced up the concrete steps to the school, while others lagged behind, dropping in on a handball game already in progress in the yard.
On an isleta in another part of the lake, American tourists sunbathe after leaving a daily yoga class and watch colorful birds from a kayak. Isolated in the middle of the lake, in the shadow of the Mombacho volcano, Jicaro is a private island ecolodge with nine casitas for guests, and amenities including a spa, daily yoga classes, and freshly prepared locally sourced meals.
In most parts of the world, these two scenes would not have anything to do with each other. But here, Jicaro is not only in the hospitality industry; it operates and funds the Padre Nello School in conjunction with a U.S.-based nonprofit and contributions from the ecolodge’s guests. It is one of at least 11 lodges in Nicaragua that operate with social impact and sustainability in mind, ranging from basic hostels to luxurious resorts.
Although each of the properties refers to itself as an “ecolodge,” the name appears to inconsistently encompass everything from a hotel that only uses recycled products, to others with active projects providing education and medical care to the local community.
After an 11-year-long civil war, can this economically disadvantaged Central American country rebuild its tourism industry by combining accommodation and social impact work? What are the implications of Nicaragua’s bourgeoning “ecotourism” sector writ large? Are there any unintended consequences of having well-meaning tourists directly help local communities?
WWhen it comes to visiting post-conflict areas, even the most conscious travelers are, well, conflicted. The immediate reaction may be to skip traveling to places like Nicaragua, which experienced political or social turmoil recently enough for it to dominate perceptions of the region. Even though the country’s bloody civil war ended nearly 30 years ago, and even though Nicaragua isn’t actually more dangerous than other destinations, visitors may feel uncomfortable seeing the aftermath of a conflict. They might also worry about being perceived as voyeuristic outsiders, or wonder if their visit exploits the local population.
There’s also the issue of “greenwashing” — or making false or exaggerated claims about sustainability — versus legitimate efforts to use tourism to have a positive impact on the environment and local community. As Dr. Carter Hunt, assistant professor of recreation, park and tourism management at Pennsylvania State University whose research focuses on ecotourism in Nicaragua, pointed out in a 2011 article, it’s important to discern between projects that do the bare minimum to comply with standards necessary to maintain their “ecolodge” label for promotional reasons, and properties that ensure outcomes in line with what ecotourism strives to achieve, including employment opportunities, improved environmental conditions and an enhanced sense of well-being. In reality, he explained, most projects fall in the gray area between these two ends of the ecotourism spectrum.
Tourism can have a significant impact in rebuilding a post-conflict area. In places like Nicaragua, where sustainability is one of the factors behind bolstering the tourism industry, there is the potential not only to bring in much-needed tourism dollars, but to design the industry around ethical initiatives that boost the local economy, create jobs, and provide access to schools and medical services that didn’t exist before.
It appears that it’s starting to work. According to Rafael Choiseul Praslin, co-owner and general manager of the Sabalos Lodge — an ecolodge in the Rio San Juan region of Nicaragua — the stigma of war is slowly dissipating. He said that 10 years ago, what he described as “the post-war phenomenon” was more prevalent than it is today.
“I think that there are people that are hesitant to visit Nicaragua because they aren’t aware that the conflict is now in the past,” said Hans Pfister, the co-founder and president of the Cayuga Collection of Sustainable Luxury Hotels and Lodges. “But once they come, they realize that their visit does not only create an incredible vacation experience for them, but it goes way beyond — they can make a difference.”
Pfister, whose Cayuga Collection includes Jicaro and seven properties in Costa Rica, said that he thinks it is important that their accommodations are upscale or luxury, in order to attract people that are in positions of influence and can make a difference.
“By visiting Nicaragua and a place like Jicaro, they are positively contributing the heal the wounds and promote economic growth,” Pfister added.
The Padre Nello School is at the center of Jicaro’s sustainability efforts. They’ve also installed solar panels in the remote island (funded entirely by ecolodge guests) and a water filtration system that provides clean water to both the lodge and 600 local residents. Students’ parents are employed preparing meals in the outdoor kitchen and sewing the school’s uniforms using donated linen.
Jicaro’s sustainability efforts are maximized by the fact that the hotel only hires staff from the local community. This includes all the catering, housekeeping, maintenance and other employees, all of whom are paid a wage substantially higher than typical salaries in the region; enough to raise a family, said Howard Coulson, the manager of Jicaro Ecolodge.
Like Jicaro, Sabalos Lodge also provides medical services to the local communities. Within a year of the lodge’s opening, four health centers in the region received necessary medications, instruments, and supplies, including solar refrigeration equipment used to store medicines and vaccines at facilities without electricity.
Hunt, who interviewed the employees of Morgan’s Rock Ecolodge in Nicaragua, said that the staff reported earning C$100 ($3 USD) per day in 2011 — not a lot, but triple what they would earn working the fields. Additionally, Hunt said that the employees viewed having steady work — as opposed to only seasonal employment — as another financial incentive. Unlike Jicaro, whose employees come from the local Granada region, much of the staff at Morgan’s Rock were recruited from other parts of Nicaragua. Their schedule involved working 26 days in a row, followed by four days off to travel home to visit family which elicited complaints from employees Hunt interviewed, along with fines, lack of bonuses or overtime pay, and feelings of under-appreciation. Yet, Hunt pointed out, the employees’ acceptance of these conditions indicates that Morgan’s Rock offered jobs perceived as economic opportunities, which was only reinforced by the fact that several employees helped facilitate jobs at the ecolodge for friends and family from their hometown.
At Sabalos Lodge, by contrast, more than 90 percent of employees are from the surrounding communities, and 60 percent are women who are the heads of their families. According to Praslin, the ecolodge also helps generate local jobs by promoting self-employment opportunities for tour guides and fishermen.
Kimberly Sisneros of Colorado Springs visited Jicaro in 2016 with her husband Jim, and was so impressed with the quality and dedication of the staff that she is likely to visit another ecolodge in the future.
“They were committed to their jobs because the opportunities Jicaro has provided for them is beyond just a paycheck,” she said.
SSabalos Lodge opened in the area after a group of ecologists started a wildlife refuge in the jungle, which eventually made it into the guidebooks and attracted enough visitors to open the ecolodge and operate local tours.
“Eventually when we went deeper and deeper into the serious concept of sustainable tourism we changed the processes to what we are today, a true sustainable destination that involves the community in tourism activities,” Praslin said.
Much of the focus at Sabalos is on environmental sustainability, with 30 percent of the property dedicated to the conservation of nature and wild animals. But the ethical commitment goes beyond the natural environment; the company signed a code of conduct to prevent tourism from becoming a sector that encourages prostitution or trafficking of children and adolescents.
With these hotels taking on everything from medical care to fresh water to preventing child trafficking, are the successes at Jicaro and Sabalos Lodge signaling a new era in Nicaraguan tourism? Or do they open to door for less ethically-minded self-described “ecolodges” to utilizing greenwashing to capitalize on these successes?
There are no easy answers, said Dr. Anjhula Mya Singh Bais, a researcher and clinical psychologist specializing in trauma who has worked with refugees. When done properly, ecotourism provides a sustainable economic base and source of income for a country where their uniqueness is preserved, and the way of their culture and people honored, done in an environmentally friendly manner, she said. But it’s more complicated than that.
Beaches where foreign tourists now lounge and sip coconut water could have once been the setting of armed conflict — but does that mean they shouldn’t now be open to visitors?
Tourism — specifically, ecotourism — has the potential to provide “a tangible boost to those people who were the most badly hit, literally and metaphorically,” Singh Bais said, noting that it’s not a question of whether to have ecotourism, but how it is done.
For Singh Bais, that means being “realistically optimistic” and implementing ecotourism initiatives gradually, with extreme awareness, rather than acting as if the country was “in a gold rush.” If this happens, she said, it’s possible for a destination like Nicaragua to “write another chapter without overwriting the past.”
While it’s clear that Coulson takes pride in his work, he seemed almost hesitant to continue to discuss the numerous sustainability initiatives associated with Jicaro. “This is important,” he said, pausing as his facial expression suddenly turned serious. “This is not part of a marketing process.”
Specifically, Pfister said, Jicaro doesn’t mention the community projects in its promotional materials; rather, the staff shares the stories with the guests, with the aim of inspiring them to assist them with projects.
Coulson continued: “Most people don’t know about our projects — we do it because we want to — never for marketing. It’s our passion. For us, the best thing is action: if you want to do something, do it — don’t talk about it.”
