7:00h: It is a misty morning. We've left the Comandante Savio in the two voadeiras, carrying 7 staff people (us, and CIMI and OPAN) and 8 Deni leaders, plus food, cameras, gasoline, topography equipment, hammocks, nets, medical material and more. My computer gear has been substituted with old-fashioned pen and paper.
Nilo was the driver on my boat. He sang while he drove and revealed unknown talents in the early morning. Ribamar drove the other boat. We went up the Arua River and according to the information we gathered from locals, nobody has gone this far at least for the last three years. Not even the Deni.
As we made another curve, birds of all sorts and sizes greeted us. The canopies of the flooded trees danced ballet on the rhythm of the waves created by the passage of the speedboats. Curly vines and giant flat leaves detached from the green walls, and we spotted colourful flowers here and there. The Arua River recalled the description of a lost paradise.
8:15h: Sky was clear. It was the first day with great weather conditions for documentation since we've left Manaus.
Vaisuvi sit beside me. I was grateful for having such a skilled guide on my first camping experience in the Amazon forest. I asked him questions all along the way and he didn't seem too bothered to answer. He told me he had been in the Arua River a long time ago looking for copaiba trees to extract oil. He pointed out guariba monkeys from a distance that only accustomed eyes are able to see.
9:22h: In a historical moment, the Deni leader Zena read the co-ordinates on the GPS and recognised the southern border of his territory. All 8 Deni leaders had shining eyes and couldn't help to cheer and smile. There was a unique energy in the air. More than ever, they knew and understood that they are the owners of these lands. More than ever, they felt close to guarantee a peaceful living for them and their future generations.
10:30h: We've sailed further up the Igarape Aruazinho until we found a bit of terra firma to set up a camping site and a vigil station. In less than 15 minutes, we found two poisonous snakes. They were not as big as Hollywood's anaconda, but certainly more dangerous. After that, the camping site was named Macahaini, which means snake in Deni language.
Ribamar built a tent for us using branches of young trees and lianas as cords. The Deni built a hut using branches, lianas, vines and straw. Their traditional technology hides incredible architecture skills and great collective sense of work. Not surprisingly, they are extremely perfectionist men.
In a classic Indiana Jones moment, we drank water from a tree. The water is kept clean inside the tree's body; to feel its freshness going down my throat amazed me, and I praised nature as my thirst vanished.
We cooked noodles and preserved meat for lunch and then had a short break on the hammocks. I noticed that more than piuns I'll have to worry about ants today. The whole place was an immense ant hive and I had a permanent feeling of six legged animals crawling up my back.
14:00h: The practical lesson on the demarcation began. Vaisuvi led the team. He set up the teodolito and directed the others on the right position to open the demarcation track. He is a natural born diplomat, transferring the Deni notions of collective work to the use of modern machines. It's incredible. Liberato (of OPAN) couldn't be happier. "These are the same conditions of a real demarcation situation", said the proud teacher.
Todd and Flavio worked hard to document the step by step of the process. I looked up at the sky and felt grateful for the beautiful light that invaded the forest. Through the trees, I could see the dark waters of the Aruazinho running easily and silently. A perfect day it was.
A 60 meters long trail was open and demarcate in the forest. The first part of the Greenpeace project to support the demarcation of the Deni lands has been completed. Basically it means that if the government fails on its duty to preserve the Deni rights, they are now able to demarcate their territory with some technical guidance.
Nilo was sitting on the ground and reminded me of the "Thinker" sculpture. I imagined what kind of feelings crossed his mind in that very moment. He called everyone for a group shot. He hugged and was hugged by Deni leaders. I don't mean to get soppy here, but it was such a beautiful moment.
"The Deni have developed a strong territoriality feeling and I fully believe it's a result of our work with them. Never the demarcation has been such an important issue for them as it is nowadays", Nilo said. "Moreover, it's easy to see that they enjoyed working with us. They say that every time we come around is an Ima Amusinaha, which means the continuation of a good chat in Deni. They consider us honest and open people".
15:43h: Bisuvi, the Deni leader from Morada Nova, a village on the Xerua river, holds one end of the banner which reads "Deni lands". Ribamar jumps up on the hut and hold the other end. We all pose for a picture and send out a clear and loud message to the rest of the world: These are Deni lands.
16:57h: After such a hard working and productive day we were able to shorten our stay in the forest. ETD back to the Comandante Savio was set for next day after we woke up.
19:00h: Dinner time. The menu: pasta with tomato sauce, which was prepared by Flavio, our photographer. He broke the tradition of bad photographers-cooks that started on the first Purus expedition. Russel, the photographer on that trip, is remembered for cooking the worst meal the Greenpeace team had in that journey. Flavio's pasta was actually very eatable. We chatted a bit, and
20:30h: Darkness was complete. I lay on my hammock and listened carefully to the forest's symphony. I wondered which animals could smell us and which would come closer to our camp. I didn't fear jaguars, because jaguars don't attack big groups of people. My enemy was much smaller and incredibly more numerous: ants. In less than five minutes, I grabbed about 30 ants walking on my hammock. I wrapped myself in a mosquito net and tried to relax, but it took me forever to fall asleep. By the level of snoring, I knew most of my companions were already dreaming of their families and loved ones. I had plenty of time to think about all important and unimportant things of life, until sleepiness took over control of mind and body. Morning of day 24 3:00h: The rain came down at once, without any wind to give a heads up. I heard the noise of the heavy raindrops hitting the blue tent and straight away Ribamar appeared with a flashlight, trying to stow things away so they didn't get completely wet. 6:00h: Sky was grey and it felt cold. I looked horrible and Todd was already pointing the camera at me. Image people. The way back to the Comandante Savio was difficult. It rained during all the 3 hours. Believe it or not, you can feel damn cold in tropical Amazon. Especially if raindrops that feel more as spikes hit your face at 40km/h. Yesterday's lost paradise showed its still fascinating but cruel face. I checked the GPS every five minutes on an anxious countdown of meters to go. Nilo surprised me once again, this thin bloke that has a broad intelligence and a great heart. He stood still driving the speedboat, didn't complain and was even able to sing. The guy deserves my deepest respect. 10:06h: "Coffee!!!" That was all I could scream to Iracema when we arrived soaked, cold and exhausted to the Comandante Savio. I put on dry clothes and went straight to bed, happy to have my first day off in two weeks and carrying the magic of the forest with me.
Comandante Savio, Cuniua River, Deni Lands, Sunday, February 25th
17:50h: The Comandante Savio is moving again as we start our descent down the Cuniua River. It's great to feel this breeze on my face, bringing me back hope and inspiration. The late afternoon light enchants the riversides, which are mirrored in the clear Cuniua waters - the world's most beautiful mirror.
Ribamar drove a voadeira for 12 hours today to take the 4 Deni leaders from the Xerua River villages back home.
