Climate Change

Ednei, a young indigenous man, poses for a portrait on the tracks of wooden trucks that pass through the limit of his territory. Right-. remains of 26 trees felled by an illegal logger in Maró Indigenous Territory, seized by the surveillance group of which Ednei is a member.

An old boat engine, a Brazilian-made two-cylinder Diesel Yanmar, on a truck chassis, a few welded steel plates, and a solid wooden rear box make up a precarious looking vehicle, but powerful in all its simplicity.

The four Borarí and Arapiun indigenous communities in Maró Indigenous Land (TI Maró) have been using it for over a year now. On it they can cover the entire perimeter of their territory in just a few days. On foot, as has they had been doing since the beginning, it takes much longer – about two weeks.

The Borarí indigenous group came only recently to this remote territory, in which the Arapiun had been living for centuries. They were fleeing poverty from Alter do Chao, a predominantly Borarí land, about 30 kilometers to the west of Santarém, the capital city of the Lower Tapajós, in the Brazilian Pará. They went along the Arapiuns River right up to its headwaters and, from there, they followed the course of the small Maró River, which gives the territory its name.

The group is rather small, about 300 people spread over 3 villages: Novo Lugar, Cachoeira do Maró, and

Sao José. But the territory is relatively large: some 42.000 hectares of primary forest – that is, intact, never cut-down Amazonian forest.

To an inexperienced observer, the whole Amazonian forest may look the same, but there is a fundamental difference between a virgin forest such as this and a forest which has been exploited. In the first phase of logging, the trees that hold the most valuable tropical timber – quoted in international markets – are felled.

Vigilantes of the Maró Indigenous Territory during their regular tour to prevent the presence of illegal loggers

The second phase consists in exploiting the remaining wood. And the third and last phase is the total elimination of vegetation, generally for purposes related to industrial agriculture or extensive livestock farming. Even though the jungle can recover in due course the space that has been destroyed, the original biodiversity is extinguished forever.

In Brazil, the devastating advance of illegal deforestation seems unstoppable. But communities like the Maró are resisting, and their very presence has come to be a guarantee of conservation – not without having to overcome many difficulties, and mobilizing against aggression. But with Bolsonaro coming to power in January of this year things are changing very rapidly.

This new reality means that an even greater threat is now looming: the threat posed by those who feel protected by the president’s aggressive discourse against the indigenous peoples and the Amazon as a whole. Many of Bolsonaro’s followers believe that they can finally do exactly what they please, taking atface value Bolsonaro’s assertion that the natives are an “obstacle to agro-industry”.

Bolsonaro got elected on the strength of his racist discourse, his attacks on minorities, blacks and indigenous peoples, all of whom, he said, should be “integrated” into the dystopian, uniform, “productive” Brazil that he envisions.

The idea that indigenous territories must be preserved, their lands dermarcated and their rights respected is now over – even though it is enshrined in the Brazilian constitution.

Aerial view of the Maró Indigenous Territory

Bolsonaro puts in the same basket environmentalists and human rights and civil rights activists. In his

famous fake homemade video campaign speech in the backyard of his house, he made his intentions clear: “either they go away, or they go to jail”.

We were able to see for ourselves to what extent some people do feel protected by Bolsonaro’s discourse and encouraged to act on their own on our trip to the hinterland of the Maró territory. Driven by Dadá Borarí – the second cacique of the territory, whose great uncle is the first -, the improvised vehicle took us along the road that marks the perimeter of the indigenous territory, a road hindered by obstacles and dangers which the vigilantes face, however, with enthusiasm and resolve.

Ever since the loggers’ incursions into their territory became more aggressive a few years ago, and following the recommendation of the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI – the public body in charge of the indigenous peoples of Brazil), a group of men elected by the villages have organized themselves as a

vigilante unit to watch over the territory. They go around its perimeter regularly, in rounds that usually last about ten days.

Indigenous people of the Borari and Arapiun ethnic groups during the monthly inspection of the territory to prevent the presence of illegal loggers.

These experienced men, who have grown up here and know the jungle well, inch by inch, recently included in the group Ednei, a young Arapiun from Cachoeira do Maró, the village next to Novo Lugar, who had also recently been elected coordinator of the Tapajós-Arapiuns Indigenous Council (CITA), which represents 45 villages where 13 different indigenous peoples live in the Lower Tapajós, the Arapiuns River, the Maró River and the Santareno Planalto.

Ednei, who has just turned twenty, is a man of few words but great resolve. He has a clear sense of what the role he has been assigned involves and is determined to carry it through with all the courage of his youth.

Incorporating young people to the vigilante group is key to the continuity of its mission. It is essential

that young people acquire the necessary knowledge and experience for the defense of a territory which finds itself under pressure from a hostile and greedy environment that seeks to extract its many riches.

The pressure comes, most of all, from the loggers operating in the region and from poachers too, who come to steal wood or hunt down the rich fauna that is part of the villages’ livelihood.

The latter are, quite often, people from neighboring lands who sold their forests and are now impoverished and have no other option but to try to get some food from the Maró Indigenous Land, which is still intact.

Apolonildo poses on the 26 logs that were seized from an illegal logging company that operated in their territory

The surveillance rounds are lengthy and conditions in the jungle hard, but the beliefs of these natives provide them with both the necessary wisdom and courage to ensure the success of their expeditions. The Indigenous Land Maró, says Dadá, in addition to providing sustenance, hosts sacred places, fresh water

sources (known as igarapés) that flow into the Maró river, herbs and medicinal plants and, above all, it is the place where Curupira dwells.

The concept of Curupira can possibly be translated as “the protective spirit of the jungle”- although its meaning for the natives is much deeper, and enigmatic. As a sacred entity, its magical powers ultimately determine what ends up happening to those who get into the jungle. The mission that the indigenous people have is to respect and protect the jungle and, in so doing, they respect and protect themselves.

Learning to defend the land is one of the important challenges that young Ednei, who is also in his first year at the University of Santarém (a half-day trip by boat from the village) studying climate science, has to face.

Led by Dadá, we go into the jungle with Ednei and the Maró IT group of vigilantes for a reconnaissance round. On route we find the remains of stolen wood – 26 large, already numbered valuable tree trunks –

A large tonnage truck transports wood through a border road with the Maró Indigenous Territory.

which a logging company could not finish removing because it went bankrupt: a sad cemetery of trees which were felled before the territory managed to get its demarcation as indigenous land protected by law.

This new generation, already raised and educated in self-affirmation, is beginning to make use of the tools of activism in order to fight for its rights – hopefully, with the necessary efficiency to resist what is to

come.

Ednei and his people know, as do so many other Brazilian indigenous communities which have survived genocidal waves, that the mere fact of existing is resisting.

Too many things however depend on us looking the other the other way.

Indigenous people from the Arapiun and Borarí groups pose in front of the house built by a logger on indigenous land with a hand-painted sign: “Here is Maró Indigenous Territory”. .

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Ednei: This Is Maró Indigenous Land