We Are All Without Fish

Saturday – 16/1/2016

Once we have entered the second half of that hot January, having an already hurried human pace, I, as a believer in the zodiac, know that I have entered my “astral hell”. An Aquarius with an ascendant in Virgo and, from what I have learned empirically, I see myself represented by what is said about this convergence: airy, humanistic, somehow distant and sometimes pragmatic. Now, I am clinging to such pragmatism, as I see that this is the only way for me to face what I see day after day. The involvement with everything that is here is depressing, so placing yourself here as an observer makes dealing with this fact easier – to digest what you see. It has been raining since we arrived at night in São José do Goiabal. As we are tired from the wear of the trip, especially as we have had little human contact since Valadares, the many, many kilometres travelled and the late hours, we decide to set up camp at a bus stop on the side road that leads to the city. Despite the light rain that falls on us for hours, we receive a friendly welcome by the city we don’t even know. The bus stop provides us a restaurant, bed and table.

Saturday – 16/1/2016

We break camp and head for Sem Peixe, where, for the first time, we come across corn, planted for miles on end along the banks of the Doce. As far as the city there are twenty kilometres of the most terrible road so far, a muddy dirt road warning us of what is to come. Moisture has become omnipresent, on us, in the earth, on everything. By late morning it has already been raining for 20 hours and we are soaking wet; it will rain for another 5 days. After gathering information in the city, we have decided to go in search of the tiny communities that insist on living close to the river. They are isolated: the historical moment has left them with their backs to the river, but also an entire rural population with their backs to the countryside. There are reports that, at another time, these lands were home to more than ten times the current population, disillusioned with the countryside, hoping for opportunities in the urban area; many are in São Paulo, others in Rio, others in Belo Horizonte. We want to know what the road signs foreshadow – California, Barbosa and Santana do Deserto.

Saturday – 16/1/2016

“In Sem Peixe, the scene is different. The rain has continued for days, and Minas Gerais expresses itself in its minute details, whether in the accent, in its food, or even in the slow passage of time that still persists in the milk delivery men, repeated black coffees30 and hand-rolled cigarettes31.”

Saturday – 16/1/2016

As we continue our journey, not only does the rain, already uninterrupted, intensify, but each curve in the road becomes muddier and practically impossible. We skid around until, by providential mistake, we stop in California, a village with a few scattered houses in the distance. Talking to the people of this small and declining farm, I realize not only the strong isolation they live in, but also how this whole process concerns the very life of our cities, opposite to the countryside and yet attractive, which greatly reduces possibilities in rural areas and thus its due continuity. Everyone here is vehement in not only pointing out the reduction of the district, and other ones around it, but also the worsening condition of production and life in the countryside. There is a lack of infrastructure, education, health care and now water. As we will see further on, few have direct contact with the Doce and, apart from sporadic fishing, the only effective use of its waters is for the cattle, who simply continue to drink from the river today, as happens practically all along it. My own awareness of isolation has been accentuated mainly due to the rain and the mud that is holding us back. It has taken us about an hour to advance, overcome, with a little more than twelve kilometres separating us from Barbosa, whose inhabitants once again claim to not have been affected by Samarco, a common comment, despite the neighbouring mud stream. Going on, and after some tumbles and towing, we stop to talk to Mr Horácio, who provides us with a new perspective of what has happened.

Saturday – 16/1/2016

A long conversation shows us the changes in the past dynamics of the river, villages abandoned long before the disaster by the logic of events and now sealed with mud. I believe we are about to experience a large exodus, now of environmental refugees, and in a few months, of mining refugees. Horácio, simple and ever a resident of these lands, witnesses the migration from the region like few others and maintains sporadic contact with his only neighbour, two kilometres to the north-east, and with the small village of Merengo on the other side of the river. Although limited and well-defined, his relationship with the river is small and his cattle keep swimming in the Doce. Auxiliadora, his wife, serves us the wellknown coffee from Minas, half coffee, half molasses, and cake that is our lunch. Our next destination will be Santana do Deserto, at the village of Rio Doce, located in front of the Candonga dam, where the destructive wave of the mud has been restrained. However, as it takes us a little more than two hours to advance about three kilometres, with Arana practically skating, we give up continuing that day. The rain insists on increasing and we can’t even get on the bike because of the complete humidity we are immersed in. Covered in mud, we decide to go back and ask Horácio and the saviour Auxiliadora for asylum. So, with a fire and a free-range chicken, we are welcomed by the sincere hospitality of Minas Gerais.

Saturday – 16/1/2016

“Next to the village of Barbosa, just in front of the other small village, separated by the river in its rust, there is not much in the region. Clear reports set us up for a scenario of declining rural reality, few come, many go. After spending hours, days, and many kilometres in the rain, we are covered in mud. Horácio and his wife Dora receive us with the simple hospitality of a few shared moments. For their support and assistance, we are grateful.”