- Monika Silva Koniuszek, a Polish-born activist and mother of two, was found dead on June 8th at her home in Montañita, Ecuador. She was 41.
- She had made Ecuador’s Santa Elena coast her home, running a small hostel and becoming a local defender of communities, beaches, mangroves, turtles, and basic public services.
- Her activism linked everyday problems, including sewage, land disputes, public works, and coastal development, to alleged corruption and weak accountability.
- She had reported threats before her death. Ecuadorian, Polish, European, and human-rights bodies have called for a thorough and independent investigation.
Montañita is a place many people intend to pass through. They come for surf, sun, music, and a stretch of Ecuador’s coast known for surf, music, and its free-spirited nature. Some stay longer. They open small businesses, learn the workings of the communes, put children into local schools, and begin to notice what visitors often do not see: the sewage that is not properly treated, the public works that arrive without answers, the land whose ownership becomes uncertain, and the turtles whose nesting beaches are treated as available ground.
For a woman from northern Poland, the change of country became something beyond expatriate life. Ecuador was where she made a home, ran a hostel, raised two daughters, and became part of Santa Elena’s disputes and loyalties. Monika Silva Koniuszek, who was found dead on June 8th at her home in Montañita, was 41. The circumstances of her death remain under investigation. In the weeks before she died, she had spoken publicly of warnings that there was a plan to kill her. She had alerted authorities and sought protection. After her death, Polish diplomats, the European Union, human-rights groups, and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights called for a thorough and independent inquiry.
Her public work began with local problems. Montañita’s inadequate sewage system troubled her. So did the way decisions about beaches, mangroves, public land, and services seemed to benefit the same networks of power. She came to see poverty, malnutrition, poor infrastructure, and environmental damage as linked by corruption and weak accountability. That became the work of Fundación La Integridad, the organization she founded and led.


In Santa Elena she was known as a citizen watchdog, an environmental defender, and a neighbor who kept asking why public decisions were made as they were. She denounced alleged irregularities in land sales, public contracting, local administration, and coastal development. She objected to a planned boardwalk that, she said, would affect nesting areas for hawksbill and olive ridley turtles. She spoke about mangroves, protected species, and the rights of rural communities. She also helped people whose problems were smaller and more immediate, the kind that rarely become news, like a family trying to get an office to respond to a request.
That breadth made her hard to categorize. To some, she was an anti-corruption activist. To others, she was an environmentalist. In her own description she was a defender of Mother Earth and vulnerable groups. She was also a mother trying to keep two girls safe in a province where civic work had become dangerous. She could sound fearless, yet in interviews she allowed that fear had found her. She described herself as practical, solution-minded, sensitive, and human. Courage, in her case, did not appear as the absence of fear. It appeared as the next errand, the next complaint, the next meeting, or the next effort to make institutions behave as if citizens mattered.

Poland remained part of the story. She came from Reszel, in Warmia-Masuria, and carried memories of a childhood shaped by teachers, factories, communism, movement, and the long search for a place to belong. In Ecuador she found one. On her social-media profile she wrote that a person did not have to be born in Ecuador to love it and defend what was right.
The investigation must still establish what happened in Montañita. Her life is easier to see. She crossed an ocean, chose a coast, and made its troubles her own: sewage, public land, mangroves, turtles, and neighbors who could not get an office to answer. For Monika Silva, belonging was not a matter of birth. It was measured in what a person was willing to defend.

