Trip to Rondônia
A young Brazilian journalist comes into contact with the world of the indigenous people in her country as an interpreter. This encounter touched her deeply and shook her up.
It's April 9, 2024. My mobile phone alarm rings; I wake up and realise that I'm not at home as usual, but in a hotel in the city of Cacoal in the state of Rondônia. Then I remember what brought me here: this week I'm interpreting for two Germans. Automatic mode switches on. An hour later, I meet Pastor Sandro, Deaconess Ingrid, and Pastor Waldemar at the hotel reception.
"I apologise for the informality, but this story is about the perceptions of a young journalist who left a small town in the south of Brazil and travelled to a region that was previously unknown to her."
At that moment, I have to admit, I initially felt a little anxious and unsure of what to expect at our destination. Because no matter how much you prepare for a challenge, you can never anticipate everything to the point where you feel ready. A few minutes pass and Sandro introduces us to his work colleague Lilian, who has been waiting for us to continue our journey to Puruborá's "estate."
A little later, we are all in the car on the way to our destination. During the journey, we speak in Portuguese and German. Through the window, I observe how the vegetation differs from what I had imagined: I see huge fields with cattle, then enormous soy plantations; after a few kilometres, we pass through a small town. But what really enchants me is the dense forest that we pass and in which I see traces of the Amazon rainforest.
A few more hours of driving pass. And then, as I look out the window, I see a small, simple but lively estate. We are here! A group of people with hopeful looks on their faces are waiting for us. It's impossible not to notice how their eyes light up when they see their long-awaited visitors.
As I get out of the car, I can feel the heat - despite a light breeze, it's over 30 degrees centigrade! Luckily I still have a bottle of water in my bag. A few metres down the road we come to a simple house with a huge veranda and a dirt floor. A beautiful table full of fruit awaits us, and the delicious smell of food wafts from inside the house.
There are lots of smiles and handshakes, but the hunger is great and soon the table is ready for us to try the feast that has been cooked especially for us. There are different types of meat, served with homemade manioc flour, rice, beans, salad and a chilli pepper. The food is delicious, and you can taste the love with which it was prepared. Waldemar, Ingrid and Sandro enjoy the variety of food just as much as I do.
What fascinates me most is the cupuaçu juice, ice-cold and with a unique flavour that reminds me a little of the melons we grow in the south. After everyone has eaten, it's time for dessert. To my surprise, there's homemade guava jam - the best I've ever tasted!
The circle of people had already formed when we sat down to eat. It grows even bigger as we listen to a beautiful performance sung by the Puruborá family. Unity and strength can be seen on their faces at this moment. The song is also their anthem. It is impossible not to be mesmerised - they are all dressed in their traditional costumes, their arms painted and their culture tattooed on their skin.
At the end of the presentation, we are invited to have our arms painted. Ingrid and Waldemar are quickly enthusiastic and willing to have their skin drawn on. Now everyone introduces themselves in their own language and in Portuguese. The circle is large and the children play in the background until everyone has their say and the head of the community, Hozana Puruborá, thanks the guests from Germany for their presence.
As with every visit, a conversation follows, and amidst the many words you can recognise the pain of a people who are fighting for the right to get their land back and who are still discovering the richness of their culture and history. Hozana tells us in a trembling voice about her mother's dream of being able to return to her homeland.
Her mother died with this dream, but her children fight bravely for their wish to have their own land. The small plot of land borders a soy plantation, lies next to a motorway and is beset by fear and constant threats. It has never been so difficult for me to listen carefully to each story and translate it, and for a moment I have to ask for a break. The intensity of my feelings overwhelms me and I realise that I need a break. I go to the car to listen to the silence and let myself be carried away by my feelings. When I close my eyes, my heart is full of tears that don't want to leave my eyes, and a phrase comes to mind that is just a translation: take a breath and carry on.
When I return, we are invited to visit the school and the future room where people will be able to produce larger quantities of manioc flour. The room is simple. Despite public incentives, only a few pupils study there. Out of fear, because of the threat to their lives, they look for another place to learn.
The land was purchased with the Puruborá community's own money, although it is located in the area claimed by the population. The struggle has been going on for years; dreams and fears accompany all Puruborá. You can see the uncertainty and fear in the eyes of Camila, Hozana's daughter, who also works with Sandro and Lilian.
The day has flown by and it's time to say goodbye. We feel that no words can express the gratitude we feel. We hold hands and say a prayer of protection in the Puruorá language. We hug each other and shake hands warmly. Then we make our way to the town of Ji-Paraná, where we will spend the night.
On the way there, the silence is certainly an immersion in feelings and, in a way, a change of perspective and the breaking up of some ambiguities and thoughts. What should I think, what should I write, what have I experienced, what have I heard, what have I translated and who am I afterwards? I am sure that something has changed, that my eyes have been opened to a reality that was previously unknown to me and is now part of my life experience.
Puruborá is a people going through a drama, living with fear and longing for a dream that has been passed down for generations. The history of a country called "lawless land" is marked by the time that many want to forget, when interests were different and it was all about colonising. But that doesn't fit into this narrative. Nevertheless, an impasse remains before the courts: Who owns the land? Who has the right to it? Two sides of the same coin in a system that oppresses minorities and favours the strongest.
Sandro Luckmann, Coordinator of the Indigenous Missionary Council COMIN, tells us about the Puruborá people:
The Puruborá people belong to the Puruborá language family of the Tupi tribe. They first came into contact with non-indigenous people in 1909 when their land was surveyed. The state authority responsible for indigenous people (SPI) advised them to integrate into non-indigenous society.
Later, the people were considered extinct by the National Indigenous Foundation (FUNAI), the successor organisation to the SPI, stigmatised as "mestizos" and expelled from their ancestral territory.
In the 1960s, there was an attempt to reclaim their traditional territory in the Manoel Correia region (state of Rondônia), but this was not successful. It was not until the early 2000s that the Puruborá succeeded in reorganising themselves (with the village of Aldeia Aperoy playing a central role) and claiming their ethnic affiliation and rights. Since the administrative demarcation process has been ongoing for more than 20 years without the initial identification and demarcation studies being completed, the Brazilian Federal Public Prosecutor's Office brought the case to court in favour of the Puruborá in 2021 and FUNAI even set up a new working group for the initial studies, which are still ongoing. According to Camila Puruborá, project consultant from the Lutheran Diaconal Foundation - Indigenous Missionary Council (FLD-COMIN), the current population of the Puruborá is 1,200 people living in various places in the state of Rondônia.
