It was while attending a regular town council meeting in the highland town of Riobamba, where I conducted research on the eff ect of the gender quota law in local politics in Ecuador, 1 that I became witness of the following scene:The mayor and seven town councilors are sitting around a huge oval table in comfortable chairs below a prominent coat of arms of the town.The other people-including me-are trying to fi t in the rest of the small room.The room is packed with people from the communities and the urban neighborhoods.The mayor welcomes everybody, then the secretary reads the protocol, and the session begins with a long list of topics, mainly specifi c claims about infrastructure projects of certain communities or neighborhoods.I am nearly dozing off , when my attention is caught by the timid speech of a man who is dressed with a poncho and sombrero and hence probably identifi es himself as indigenous.In Spanish, he gives a hesitant account of the di cult situation in his community after the access road has been severely damaged by the last heavy rains.After a few minutes of speaking, the mayor interrupts the man, saying that he can't do anything about it.Suddenly the indigenous woman next to the man stands up.She makes a nervous impression, her face blushes when she starts speaking and apologizes: "I am sorry for my Spanish, but we don't know how to speak good Spanish."Immediately Edith Caranqui-the only indigenous town councilorresponds to her in kichwa.Obviously she invites the woman to speak in kichwa.The woman starts in a more confi dent voice to present her claim in kichwa.While at fi rst the mayor and the other six town councilors are silent due to their utter surprise at the incident, a second later they start giggling, laughing, and poking fun at the woman.The secretary looks stressed and asks how she is supposed to deal with this incident, as she can't write the protocol in kichwa.(ethnographic notes,
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