Por Elielson Almeida, jornalista e membro da Pororoka

Long before the Uaçá, Curipi, and Urucauá rivers came to bear their present-day names, a great serpent emerged from the sea in search of food for her offspring. As she moved across the land, she carved the waterways that now flow through the northernmost reaches of Amapá.

Her offspring followed different paths, giving rise to other rivers. One became the Curipi. Another became the Urucauá. After continuing her journey, the serpent herself transformed into the river that would later bear her name: the Uaçá.

In this story, passed down through generations by the Indigenous peoples of Oiapoque, water is not merely part of the landscape. It is the very origin of the territory and of the ways in which different peoples learned to live within it.

The ancestral knowledge and stories open their way through the Amazonian rivers. Arte: Lucas Negrão

Before the BR-156 highway connected the villages to the municipal seat of Oiapoque, travel took place by sea. These ancient maritime routes have always connected Indigenous peoples, and the ocean itself is understood as an extension of their ancestral territories.

"The elders built sturdy canoes and traveled to Oiapoque and French Guiana to sell cassava flour. My father did that. My mother did that. Back then, everything was done by paddle. It took five or six days to get there", recalls Luene Karipuna, Executive Coordinator of the Articulation of Indigenous Peoples and Organizations of Amapá and Northern Pará (Apoianp).

Luene Karipuna tells that the rivers have a central role in the history of her people. Foto: Elielson Almeida

It was by sea that part of the Karipuna people's history began to be rewritten after their ancestors fled the violence of the Cabanagem, a popular uprising that erupted in 1835 in what was then the Province of Grão-Pará and sought independence from the Brazilian Empire. It remains the only revolt in Brazilian history in which the rebels effectively seized power before being defeated by imperial forces a little over a year later.

The Karipuna ancestors found, in the far north of the Amazon, a place where they could rebuild their existence. Their journey took them through Maracá Island before they reached Oiapoque, where they were welcomed by the Palikur people. There, they were able to rebuild a population that had been nearly wiped out by conflict.

"The Karipuna people did not originally live in this region. We were expelled from our ancestral territory during the Cabanagem. After passing through Maracá, we navigated to Oiapoque, where we were welcomed by the Palikur people. It was here that we were able to rebuild our nation", Luene explains.

In the Indigenous worldview, rivers, oceans, forests, and even the constellations are home to the caruanas—spiritual beings that guide the relationship between people, nature, and the territory. If the caruanas are threatened, it means the balance that sustains life in that part of the world is also at risk.

Today, that threat has taken shape with the advance of oil exploration at the mouth of the Amazon River. For Indigenous leaders, the possibility of an environmental disaster—not to mention the inevitable impacts of the industry itself, such as increased shipping traffic, unplanned urban expansion, and other pressures—represents the possibility of the end of the way of life they have sustained for millennia.

"We do not own the territory. We are part of it. There is a balance between the trees, the fish, the animals, and the people who live here. That is why we have cared for these territories for thousands of years without destroying them. We understand that we are not superior to nature. We are part of it."

Although the oil exploration blocks are located offshore, beyond the officially recognized boundaries of Indigenous territories, leaders in Oiapoque reject that distinction. In their view, it was the state that determined where the territory ended, without understanding that it is inseparably connected to everything around it: the rivers, mangroves, forests, and the sea itself.

'When people talk about Block 59 and offshore oil exploration, it is important to remember that, regardless of how far away the block is—whether it is inside or outside Indigenous territory—it already has an impact. We are no longer at peace. We are worried. We are afraid", says Luene.

There is also deep concern for the survival of the villages located along the rivers that flow into the coast of Amapá. Any accident at sea could affect communities that depend directly on these waters for fishing, food security, and their entire way of life.

"We live here in this territory, and we are deeply concerned about any damage that could affect it, because this is where our livelihood comes from. Three rivers run through the Uaçá Indigenous Territory. There are lakes as well. If an accident happens out there at sea, it will reach us here inside our territory", says Chief Edmilson dos Santos Oliveira of the Karipuna people.

Chief Edmilson is worried that oil exploration in the Oiapoque region will threaten the security of the rivers.. Foto: Elielson Almeida

At the beginning of this story, a great serpent emerged from the sea and carved the rivers that cross Indigenous territories in Oiapoque. Centuries later, these same waterways continue to preserve a history, a collective memory, and a worldview in which rivers, forests, the sea, and human beings have never ceased to be parts of the same living body.