- Lucas Freire
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
By Elielson Almeida, journalist and member of the Pororoka Colective
For many years, cassava has held a central place in the lives of the Indigenous peoples of Oiapoque. It provides the flour that feeds families, as well as tucupi, cassava starch, traditional beverages and part of the communities’ income. It was during collective work efforts to plant, harvest and process cassava that stories and knowledge were passed down from one generation to the next.
In recent years, however, this cycle has begun to break down. A disease known as Witch’s Broom has spread across the fields, drastically reducing cassava production and threatening far more than the food security of Indigenous villages.
By affecting the main agricultural crop of the Indigenous peoples of Oiapoque, the fungus is also threatening cultural practices, forms of community organization and the transmission of traditional knowledge.
How the Disease Spread Across the Fields
Witch’s Broom is a disease caused by a fungus that attacks cassava plants. In infected plants, new shoots begin to grow in a disordered manner, forming tangled clusters that gave the disease its name. As the infection progresses, the roots rot, production declines and, in many cases, the plant dies before it can be harvested.
What concerns Indigenous communities most, however, is not only the fungus’s ability to destroy a crop, but also the speed at which it has spread. The outbreak prompted Brazil’s Ministry of Agriculture to declare a phytosanitary emergency in the states of Pará and Amapá and establish a national program aimed at containing the spread of the disease.
The fungus can be transported by wind and through agricultural tools, but especially through contaminated cassava cuttings, making it difficult to stop its circulation between different growing areas.
For communities whose livelihoods depend on cassava, this combination of high transmissibility and the lack of a definitive solution has turned Witch’s Broom into one of the greatest threats they have ever faced.
When the Boats Came Back Empty
For years, boats crossed the rivers every day carrying sacks of cassava flour produced by Indigenous communities. It was a steady flow that helped supply the municipality of Oiapoque and communities along the coast of French Guiana. The activity supported transport cooperatives and provided part of the families’ income. Gradually, however, the loads became smaller. Then they practically disappeared.
The vice-chief of Manga Village, Geovane Santos, witnessed this transformation firsthand. In addition to being an Indigenous leader, he works for a cooperative that transports people and goods. It was there, watching what was no longer being loaded onto the boats, that Geovane realized the scale of the problem. Money stopped circulating at the same pace, work declined, and a food that had always symbolized self-determination began to become scarce precisely where it had never been lacking.
“Before Witch’s Broom, we transported around 20 sacks of cassava flour a day. Today, we don’t even reach one sack. We noticed this drop in production, and it affected not only the transportation of cassava flour, but also other products from the communities.”
An Invisible Threat
According to Indigenous leaders, when Witch’s Broom first began affecting the fields of Oiapoque, communities still believed it was a localized problem. Soon afterward, however, they began hearing similar reports from other villages hundreds of kilometers away, some accessible only by plane or after long journeys by boat. The disease kept appearing in places with no apparent connection to one another.
For Indigenous chief Sônia Jean-Jacque, coordinator of the Council of Chiefs of the Indigenous Peoples of Oiapoque (CCPIO), this is precisely the most alarming aspect of the crisis. Witch’s Broom is spreading silently and continues to reach new areas without anyone being able to stop its advance.
“Today we know that it is not only here in the municipality of Oiapoque. It is in other municipalities, in other Indigenous lands. The Tumucumaque Indigenous Lands, which are located in an isolated region that can only be reached by plane, have also been affected. So there is no explanation for why Indigenous lands so far apart are being affected. We are experiencing an outbreak and, so far, there is still nothing that can put an end to it", says Chief Sônia.
To this day, Indigenous leaders say there is no explanation for the fungus’s expansion or any definitive solution to contain its spread. While some cassava varieties resist for longer, others disappear rapidly, forcing communities to repeatedly start new plantings without knowing whether they will be able to harvest them.
“Today we are experiencing an outbreak. So far, we have nothing that tells us this is going to end. We know there are more resistant cassava cuttings, but we also know that the fungus is much stronger. So, today, we do not have an antidote for this pandemic”, she says.
Far Beyond the Fields
Among the Indigenous peoples of the region, collective work efforts to plant, harvest and process cassava brought different generations together for hours, working side by side, talking, teaching, learning and sharing stories. While some pulled cassava roots from the ground, others peeled, grated and squeezed the pulp or tended the fires beneath the ovens. The work was collective, but it was also a way of passing knowledge on to future generations.
Children grew up watching their elders. They learned how to recognize the right time to plant, how to prepare tucupi, how to make cassava flour, how to prepare fish and how to understand the rules that organize community life. Much of what is known today about the territory continued to be taught in these moments. For Indigenous leaders, reducing Witch’s Broom to an agricultural problem means overlooking everything that surrounds cassava.
“With the impact of Witch’s Broom, people talk a lot about food insecurity and the loss of cassava. But it is not only that. It is all the knowledge associated with this practice. It is during collective work to plant, harvest and grate cassava that we hear the stories of our ancestors. When Witch’s Broom arrives, you interrupt all of that”, explains Luene.
Cassava is also the basis of caxixi, a traditional beverage of the Galibi Kali’na people, consumed during important moments in community life. Without cassava, this tradition also ceases to be passed on.
“The field goes far beyond producing food. It creates a cultural, economic and social imbalance. Our caxixi is made from cassava. When the fungus destroys the fields, it also prevents us from making caxixi. That is a cultural loss”, says Sônia Jean-Jacque.
When the Fields Are No Longer Enough
In communities accustomed to planting, harvesting, grating, pressing and roasting their own cassava, it has become increasingly common to rely on flour produced outside their territories. The change may seem small to someone looking only at what is on the plate. For those living in the villages, it represents a profound transformation in their relationship with the land itself.
When families need to buy cassava flour, they also become dependent on money to acquire a food they have always produced themselves. Food sovereignty is gradually replaced by a market-based logic that has never been part of this way of life.
While waiting for assistance, communities are also trying to prevent the knowledge associated with cultivation from disappearing. Collective work efforts have become less frequent, but they continue to take place. Families continue to clear new areas, prepare the soil and teach younger generations what they learned from their parents and grandparents. Planting has also become a form of resistance.
“The fields go far beyond providing the daily food that is cassava flour. Today, the Indigenous peoples of Oiapoque need help. This creates a cultural, economic and social imbalance for Indigenous peoples, because the fields are not simply a source of food”, says Chief Sônia.
