By Elielson Almeida, journalist and member of the Pororoka collective

Oiapoque was never isolated. For centuries, its rivers and the Atlantic Ocean connected the region's peoples and sustained ways of life that had been established long before the presence of the Brazilian state. Outsiders, however, have often viewed its waterways, forests, and mangroves as obstacles to be overcome.

A TERRITORY TRANSFORMED BY THE ROAD

Oiapoque's geography began to change in the last century. The construction of the BR-156 highway, which began in the 1930s, brought Indigenous communities closer to the town, reduced travel times, and transformed the relationship between villages and the outside world. The highway created a permanent flow of people, vehicles, and economic interests into the region.

Previously, rivers and forests served as natural barriers, limiting access to Indigenous territories. The highway, however, brought those frontiers closer. It was in this context that some communities established villages along the roadside to monitor who entered and left their territories and to prevent land invasions.

Previously, rivers and forests acted as natural barriers against outsiders. Nowadays, local communities need to look after themselves to preserve their territories. Foto: Elielson Almeida

"There were no villages nearby before. We came here to monitor our land and prevent invaders from entering our territory", explains Luene Karipuna, Executive Coordinator of the Articulation of Indigenous Peoples and Organizations of Amapá and Northern Pará (Apoianp).

Luene Karipuna explains how urban development also meant the need for more protection of Oiapoque's traditional communities. Foto: Elielson Almeida

Today, surveillance extends far beyond the BR-156. Communities must maintain defense fronts along the rivers—where illegal fishers enter Indigenous territories—and in the forest, which is under constant pressure from illegal loggers. Threats come from both sides of the border: Brazil and French Guiana, where the movement of people has long been well established.

According to Indigenous leaders, the concern goes beyond the challenges they already face. They fear these pressures could intensify in the coming years with the arrival of the oil industry. In their view, the opening of new access routes makes it easier for outsiders with no ties to the territory to enter, increasing the burden on communities that already have to divide their efforts between protecting roads, rivers, and forests.

The Oiapoque region is home to three officially recognized Indigenous territories, covering more than 500,000 hectares—about 22% of the municipality's total area. These territories are inhabited by more than 8,000 people from four Indigenous peoples: the Galibi Marworno, Karipuna, Palikur, and Galibi Kali'na. Together, they account for more than 70% of the Indigenous population of the state of Amapá.

A CITY WITH NOWHERE LEFT TO GROW

Surrounded by Indigenous territories, conservation units, and other protected areas, Oiapoque has very little room for urban expansion. In practice, nearly every new infrastructure project or business development ends up affecting someone else's territory.

This became evident when authorities attempted to replace the city's open-air dump with a new sanitary landfill. Several proposed sites had to be rejected because they were located within protected areas. Indigenous leaders cite this episode as an example of a reality likely to become even more common as more people and businesses move to the municipality, attracted by the promise of prosperity associated with oil.

"Only about 2% of the municipality's territory can be used for urban development. Everything else consists of Indigenous territories, conservation units, and other protected areas. This creates constant pressure on these territories", explains Luene Karipuna.

Even before the first oil well has been drilled, Oiapoque has already experienced significant population growth. Between 2010 and 2025, the municipality's population increased from 20,509 to an estimated 30,786 inhabitants, according to the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE). Oiapoque is also home to 8,088 Indigenous people, representing around 17% of Amapá's total Indigenous population.

Indigenous lands, traditional and river based communities, that sum up to the largest portion of Oiapoque's territory, are constantly threatened by the urban infrastrucutre's growth.. Foto: Elielson Almeida

For Indigenous leaders, this demographic growth, combined with expectations of economic expansion driven by oil, is likely to increase pressure on a municipality where only a small fraction of the land is available for urban occupation.

"I attended a meeting where they said the municipality is preparing for this project. And I kept wondering: if the town is already worried about how it will accommodate so many people, what will happen to our territory, which lies just next door?", asks Chief Edmilson dos Santos Oliveira, of the Karipuna people.

For Chief Edmilson, o growth in oil related activities in the Oiapoque region may raise even more the pressure over a territory with nowhere left to grow. Photo: Elielson Almeida

DEVELOPMENT FOR WHOM?

For the Indigenous peoples of Oiapoque, the concern is that the expectations surrounding oil development will accelerate a process already seen elsewhere in the Amazon: increased pressure on Indigenous territories, more land invasions, and the expansion of illegal activities that often accompany large-scale infrastructure projects. The profits remain with the companies, while the region itself is left behind. That is why Indigenous leaders argue that, even before a single offshore platform begins operating, their territory has already started to change.

They also express skepticism toward promises of economic development. In their assessment, large projects tend to attract people from other regions seeking jobs and new opportunities, while Indigenous communities are left to bear the social and environmental consequences of territorial occupation.

"They say it will create jobs and improve the region. But I keep wondering: will they hire our children? Will Indigenous people actually benefit? My concern is that the problems will be ours, while the benefits will go to outsiders", are some of the questions brought up by this endeavor.

THE STRUGGLE HAS REACHED NEW SPACES

Today, the fight for Indigenous rights extends far beyond the physical defense of the territory. Indigenous leaders divide their time between their villages and decision-making spaces where choices are made that could shape the region's future. Meetings, public hearings, consultations, and long journeys have become part of everyday life.

"I joined the Indigenous movement when I was still very young. Since then, I've traveled to meetings and participated in countless gatherings seeking improvements for our communities. We do this because we are fighting for our children, our grandchildren, and the generations yet to come," explained one Indigenous leader.