Krenak Head Of Earth

Tuesday – 12/01/2016

We stay the night at the smallholding of our friends Bianca and Dante Pavan from GIAIA, who are also engaged in the defence of the Doce. They live at the small town of Itapina, close to the border with Minas Gerais24. Their house is a few metres away from an old ferry boat station used to cross to the city of Ipaba. After a long day of intense contacts and harsh reality, we arrive at the farmhouse; the amount of mosquitoes is absurd, and keeps us awake. Throughout this journey, we hear reports of the increase in the number of insects, a fact that many attribute to the river and its orange colour. Could it be due to the possible lack of amphibians? Talking for a while with Geraldo, the caretaker, again shows the simplicity of the people, a fact that will be deepened from now on. The real magnitude of the matter is unknown to them (and to me), as is the correct measurement of the impact and even their options for resistance, often non-existent. All the while they believe in the sufficiency of a few litres of water at a steadily reduced frequency. The indifference with which Samarco evades its responsibilities, as well as their unfairness in defining those affected is frightening, and causes the most vulnerable to be even more impacted. As there is little traditional occupation along the river, due to lack of time and to avoid large metropolitan areas, we have decided not to carry out surveys between Itapina and Resplendor.

Tuesday – 12/01/2016

“Itapina. By sunrise, the mosquitoes have already had breakfast. We will be overlooking the unfinished bridge today. In the distance, a visually isolated city doesn’t even seem to be waking up. The ruins grow amidst vegetation and a dry, shallow river. A dreadful landscape unfolds, despite the entire natural atmosphere providing a certain tone of resilience to the current times.”

Tuesday – 12/01/2016

We advance through a landscape of growing hills and alarming environmental degradation. The drought of the river and its redness add to the cracked land in the construction of a scarce and decadent scenario. The neglect of the river mirrored in the curves in the road dates back many decades and is noticeable throughout the horizon. Here, the destruction, now silent, began many decades ago.

After crossing the bridge of Resplendor, we go to Horácio’s small property to gather information, which is not very illuminating, due to the selfreliance and relative distance of the Doce. We then advance to the Indigenous Land of the Krenak25 , inhabited by hundreds of Indians from the Botocudo ethnic group. Never before having set foot on the land of native Indians, I confess I am surprised by the structure of the houses, as well as the entire existing social organization in the community. Farms spread over a large territory allow the maintenance of their activities, and the Eme, a tributary of the Doce, still provides them water. Here, they fish, work and maintain their religious and artistic traditions with relative autonomy from the outside world. The distinctive features of the people here bring me back to the origins of our land, as do the photos on the wall of Dona Dejanira’s house, with her strong and unique accent. For the first time on this journey, spanning from my birth, I found so much contrast in their way of thinking about and treating the world and my own. The now extinct richness and traditional ways of using the Doce place a new baseline on the impacts caused by the collapse of the dam, as they threaten even Brazil’s religious and cultural wealth. Km 1049

Tuesday – 12/01/2016

The translation of the word Krenak, from the language of the same name, means head of Earth, referring to the awareness of their connection with, and total dependence upon, the surrounding nature. This land identifies, even in the primary nature of its meaning, the point where dissociation from the natural environment is impossible, since they consider themselves a unit integrated into the habitat. Having its origins directly linked to the river, the river achieves another proportion: it is no longer just a river, the Doce is God, creator and maintainer of life. Watú26 is his name, and he cries, Dejanira tells us. In addition to the beauty of the roças, where we are lost for hours trying to reach Conselheiro Pena, the region is enriched by the scenery of the mountains on the opposite bank of the river, shaped by the boulders of the Sete Salões State Park. Inevitably, the red colour adds a new proportion to the landscape.

I am not sure if it is because of where we are, the work we are doing or even if it is a mere coincidence, but during the last 24 hours we have had recurrent close contact with riverside communities and fishing villages that live exclusively on the Doce. Going to Barra do Cuieté, we talk to humble families who are unaware of the scale of the problem and, in addition to their isolation, have not even received any kind of response from Samarco or the government.