A BR-319 highway in the middle of the road

A report about a highway should cover the length of the road itself. On the BR-319, that is impossible. During six months, each year, various stretches between Manaus and Porto Velho are inaccessible. The Amazonian winter can be blamed for the torrential rains or even the forest, which for decades has swallowed the asphalt mercilessly. Unsurprisingly, the government leaders can be blamed for abandoning a federal highway that only operated for 12 years. Inaugurated in 1976, the BR-319 has not been rebuilt because the indigenous people, who inhabited the country even before it was called Brazil, no longer accept not being heard. They bravely resist.

Por Leanderson Lima, Alberto César Araújo (Fotos) e Barbara Arisi (Tradução)

Tapauá (AM) – In the Amazon, roads are always associated with problems or solutions, depending on who is discussing about them. Cutting down native trees to make way for roads has brought more than just vehicles into the forest. The cycle is well-known: first, there is rampant deforestation accompanied by land grabbing, transforming extensive areas into pastures. Cattle arrive, leave, and within a few years, give way to monoculture, predominantly soy monoculture. The precarious conditions of the BR-319 highway have disrupted this destructive pattern.

The Amazônia Real embarked on a journey along stretches of the BR-319 highway in search of answers to a fundamental question: how can the Amazon be saved? Dom Phillips, the British journalist who was tragically murdered on June 5th along with Brazilian indigenous specialist Bruno Pereira on the Itacoaí River, near the border of the Vale do Javari Indigenous Territory in the Amazon, devoted the final years of his life to addressing this central question for humanity. Dom was well aware of the risks posed by illegal mining and fishing, logging, large infrastructure projects, fraud in the acquisition of vast forested areas, and the threat to forest-dwelling peoples. He also warned that roads pave the way for environmental degradation.

Invited to join the Bruno and Dom Project, coordinated by Forbidden Stories, an international consortium dedicated to continuing the work of journalists who have been murdered or are under threat, Amazonia Real agency embarked on a journey along the BR-319 highway in March of this year. It was accompanied by a team from Expresso, a Portuguese newspaper, one of the 16 media outlets from 10 countries in the consortium. What follows is a report of their trip and a collection of diverse perspectives. What you will read below is the trip record and an effort to listen other people. It was important to listen to those who dream about its paving and also those who are against the completion of the road works; what do scientists and environmentalists have to say about this road that has been used as an “electoral campaign subject” by politicians for 35 years.

This is a narrative about BR-319, a 877-kilometer road that was partially reclaimed by the forest in the late 1980s. If reconstructed as planned, paving the highway could lead to deforestation extending up to 150 kilometers from its left and right sides, reaching the still well-preserved heart of the Amazon in the region between the Purus and Madeira rivers, in Rondônia and Amazonas states. This area is larger than the state of Rio Grande do Sul and represents the greatest challenge for the future of the world’s largest tropical forest. At the crossroads of history, there was a BR-319 highway “in the middle of the road”, to paraphrase a famous poem written by the Minas Gerais poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade.

One of the main destinations of this journey was the São Francisco village, located in the Apurinã territory of Tauá-Mirim Igarapé, in the municipality of Tapauá, in the southern part of Amazonas. This area has been greatly impacted by deforestation, illegal logging, and fires. With the permission of Chief Marino Adriano Batista, known as Marino Apurinã, the Amazônia Real and Expresso teams had the opportunity to witness the “Kenêre,” a big celebration that brought together indigenous people from the region around the BR-319 highway. The focus was not solely on the festive atmosphere but also on the opportunity to listen to the leaders of the people who have prevented that the highway would become the newest path of forest destruction. Without knowing it, they represent part of the answer that Dom Phillips was seeking in his travels through the Amazon.

Day 1 – March 21

_{Unpaved stretch of BR 319, between Humaitá and Porto Realidade (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real}

Those familiar with the North of Brazil know that embarking on a trip, whether by land, water, or air, is best done outside of the Amazon’s rainy season. With an average monthly rainfall of 285 millimetres and storms occurring at any time between November and March, the BR-319 highway becomes engulfed in mud. Even during the summer, the driest period, it would still be possible to travel along many stretches, leaving clouds of dust in the rearview mirror.

Last year, two bridges collapsed on the Amazon side of the highway in the municipality of Careiro da Várzea. The first collapse occurred on September 28, 2022, at Km 23, over the Curuçá River, resulting in the death of four people. The second bridge, at Km 24, over the Autaz-Mirim River, was closed one day before collapsing on October 8. As a result, the journey between the two capitals would have to be partial, instead of travelling the entire distance between Porto Velho and Manaus.

On Tuesday, March 21, the Amazônia Real reporting team and the Expresso journalists, embarkied on their first expedition through the Amazon rainforest. We met in the lobby of a hotel in Porto Velho, the capital of Rondônia. The day was plagued by fine and persistent rain, and the weather forecast was far from encouraging. On this day, arrangements were made for car rentals, purchase of provisions, and acquisition of mosquito nets for sleeping in the indigenous territory. With the journalists hunched over a map, the planned destinations were carefully reviewed, inch by inch, the goal was to reach the São Francisco village.

Day 2 – March 22

_{Advertising billboard of former President Bolsonaro along BR 319 in the municipality of Humaitá, southern Amazonas (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

On the second day of the journey, we departed from Porto Velho, covering the initial 200 paved road kilometres. The highway, like any other federal road, has signs indicating maintenance, conservation, and recovery works. The first stop is at the bridge over the Madeira River in Porto Velho, where illegal mining rafts can be seen along with a grain bulk terminal in the background. In September 2022, a floating ferry city was set up at this location, called “fofoca”(gossip, in Brazilian / Portuguese language). It gained global attention.

Our journey went on heading Humaitá, a municipality in the state of Amazonas with less than 60,000 inhabitants. For dozens of kilometres, regardless of the side of the road, to the right or to the left, enormous deforested areas bring monotony to the landscape. Soy and rice plantations alternate with huge pastures for cattle, and nothing else. But don’t imagine large herds. The impression is that there is too much land for too few cattle.

Throughout the journey, Brazilian flags, faded by the sun, are a common sight. A billboard featuring ex-president Jair Bolsonaro can be seen in one of the open fields, displaying the message: “We are Bolsonaro, we believe in God and value the family.” In the 2022 presidential elections, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva defeated Bolsonaro in Humaitá, securing 53.15% of the valid votes. Both men play a central role in the future of BR-319.

Although the stretch of highway from Porto Velho to Humaitá is easily navigable due to the presence of asphalt, these cities still face challenges in terms of progress. According to the Institute of Man and Environment of the Amazon (Imazon), Humaitá had a Social Progress Index (IPS) of 54.3 in 2021, on a scale of 0 to 100. In comparison, the capital city Manaus had an IPS of 65.3. Humaitá ranked 4,029th in the municipal ranking of the Human Development Index in 2010, ahead of 1,536 other municipalities. The Gross Domestic Product per capita in Humaitá is 13,907 reais, significantly lower than the 60,750 reais in São Paulo.

When there are still 67 kilometres to arrive in Realidade, a community created by migrants who arrived on the BR-319 to exploit wood and became a district of Humaitá, the road signs show the dimension of Amazonian distances: Manaus is 656 kilometres away, and Careiro Castanho is 544 kilometres away. Nothing seems to be near by. A large lumber mill with full yards is working frantically. Deforestation is close by. At kilometre 253, the asphalt ends, and from this point onwards the road is nothing but dust. The strong sun provides favourable conditions for travel, but the number of vehicles drastically decreases. The sight of someone riding a horse signals the impending isolation.

In the late afternoon, the team arrives in the small district of Realidade. A group of young people is playing a lively soccer game on a dirt field. Upon seeing the team arriving in an SUV (sport utility vehicle), a young man approaches and bluntly asks, “Are you the police?” Faced with the negative, he deciphers his curiosity. “Oh, right. Yesterday a guy was killed in this field.” The information works as a “business card”, which differs little from other realities throughout Brazil, marked by violence and the absence of the State.

Realidade lacks paved streets, and motocross-type motorcycles dominate the scene. While cars are scarce, it is not uncommon to see trucks still traversing the challenging BR-319, even during the most difficult times of the year. Small businesses thrive in the district, including auto repair shops, clothing stores, drugstores, and snack bars. And there are agribusinesses related shops. These are everywhere.

Realidade resembles the typical scenes of the American Old West, with establishments built next to each other. In the summer, the suspended dust intensifies the resemblance. A saloon on the main road attracts men who enjoy drinking beer and playing pool, while casting wary glances at outsiders. The report promises to delve deeper into the history of the district in the coming days.

Day 3 – March 23

_{Journey along the Realidade Igarapé and the Ipixuna River, between Realidade and Tapauá in the Amazon near the Tapauá State Forest (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

On the third day of the journey, it is time to leave the Amazon district and explore a new reality. The best way to reach the municipality of Tapauá, where the São Francisco indigenous village of the Apurinã people is located, is by exchanging the SUV for a boat. This mode of transportation is common for river dwellers, indigenous communities, and inhabitants of the municipality. However, a dangerous branch road has emerged, offering a threatening shortcut.

The AM-366 road is being opened in two sections, one starting from Tapauá and the other coming from BR-319. These two ends have not yet met, and the road traverses the route of the National Park Nascentes do Lago Jari, a federal conservation unit, as well as the creek Igarapé Tauá Mirim and the creek Igarapé São João Indigenous Lands.

This shortcut is symbolic. It was born as a branch line and, if it depends on land-grabbers, loggers, invaders and even local politicians, it is just a matter of time to connect both sides becoming then a new road. AM-366 is an example of what scientists and researchers call the “fishbone” effect, which refers to the infinity of branches and adjacent roads that are opened without any kind of control, resembling the design of a “fish-bone”. At the center, the fish’s “spine” is the BR-319.

“We are seeing a movement of land grabbers starting from the BR-319 highway trying to find this branch road in the middle of the road. It is something very worrying and everything is already geo-referenced”, denounces the biologist and researcher from the Federal University of Amazonas (Ufam) Lucas Ferrante. He works with renowned scientist Philip Fearnside, one of the most respected voices in the world when the subject is the Amazon and, particularly, the BR-319. “We have been following through satellite images and in the field the impacts on traditional communities, especially in the Indigenous Land of Tauá Mirim,” says the young biologist.

The journey through the Realidade igarapé begins at 8:40 am in a boat, which navigates through the “furos” (literally translated, it means “holes”). These “holes” are narrow shortcuts through the “igapós”, the flooded parts of the forest that serve as communication channels between larger rivers like the Ipixuna and the Purus. The small boat makes its way through the “furos” until reaching the Ipixuna River, passing through dense and closed forest landscapes. Along the way, the Balata-Tufari National Forest, established in 2005, becomes visible, located between the municipalities of Tapauá and Canutama. Riverside communities, such as Central, offer a surprising and welcomed strong internet signal.

Although the journey was initially estimated to take six hours, it ends up taking additional three hours due to a miscalculation about fuel needs and a change of boats. The boatman and crew improvise oars using Styrofoam box lids and tripods when the boat run out of fuel. Fortunately, they encounter a small boat owned by a river dweller, who provided them with fuel so we continue the journey. It saves the team from spending the night on the river, but not from having to sleep in Tapauá (AM), since the arrival in the city happens in the late afternoon. It is not advisable to follow the river to the indigenous village in the dark.

Tapauá is an intriguing town with a dual nature. Part of it is like any other inland town in the Amazon, situated on dry land. The other part consists of a floating city along the Purus River. The municipality estimates that there are approximately 500 floating communities with around 2,000 residents. These communities consist of houses, churches, commercial establishments, and various types of dwellings. The mayor of Tapauá, Gamaliel Andrade (PSC), asserts that Tapauá is the city with the highest number of floating residents in the world.

Tapauá has an estimated population of 21,000 inhabitants, encompassing 94 riverside communities and an area of 89,324 km². It ranks as the fifth-largest municipality in Brazil. The extraction of Brazil nuts and fishing, which supplies 60% of the fish consumed in Manaus, are the two main economic activities in the region. On the return journey from the village, the reporters will meet more people from this municipality.

Day 4 – March 24

_{Chief Marino Adriano Batista Apurinã in the São Francisco village, in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Territory on final act of Kenêre ritual (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

The journey continues along the “river roads” on Friday morning, with another three hours of travel by boat. As the boat approaches the village of São Francisco, the vegetation becomes denser, creating a sense of entering a closed forest. The arrival in the São Francisco village interrupts the routine of the Apurinã, on what would be a day of celebration for them. On the banks of the Tauá Mirim stream, the welcome is given by the host, the chief-general Marino Adriano Batista, Marino Apurinã, 49 years old. With a smile on his face, he allows us journalists to enter the indigenous people community.

The São Francisco village is situated on land that starts with a steep climb. At the beginning, there is a large two-story house built of wood on stilts, with no walls dividing the rooms. This open area serves as a large shed where visitors hang their hammocks fro spend the night. Luggage is left there before continuing the climb.

Further up, there are other houses of similar style but with a smaller size and only one floor. In one of them, the women prepare food. In another one, the village school provides early childhood education. Another house is starting to be built and will house the church of the Apurina, the evangelical Christian Congregation of Brazil. This is the reason why there is no longer an indigenous shaman in the village.

The absence of a shaman doesn’t mean the Apurinã have lost their identity. They continue to preserve their cultural traditions, such as the celebration of “Kenêre,” a ritual that includes dancing and singing. The “Kenêre” celebration starts in the early afternoon and lasts until the following morning. Chief-general Marino compares it to the “forró” dance of northeastern Brazil, but clarifies that he is comparing it because of the dancing party.

During the “Kenêre” celebration, the Apurinã people dance to the center of the village carrying buriti palm trees (the “kinare” in Apurinã language), which are sacred to them. Each person wears a headdress made of buriti fibre adorned with graphic patterns (called saporenta). At the end of the celebration, all the headdresses are offered to nature and thrown into the river. This celebration serves to teach children about their culture and ensure its preservation for future generations.

Marino is a man of small stature, with a firm gaze and a facial expression that conveys tranquility. He is a highly respected leader among the Apurina people, and proved to be hospitable. He received the journalists with delicacies such as beiju, hot coffee, and generosity. At all times, he seemed to choose every word to be well understood.

In the São Francisco village, the cacique-general does not take long to confront the construction of the AM-366 highway, which is in the arc of influence of the BR-319 highway. In order not to invade the Indigenous Territory Igarapé Tauá Mirim and Igarapé São João, this other road passes through this protected area, but this was not enough to ward off the impacts of its construction. With the igarapés (water creeks) being filled up with sand or ground, the supply of fish has already decreased. And the noise of the machines tearing up the forest has been scaring the animals away, which makes hunting difficult. “We are feeling (the effects of AM-366). In the past, the Tauá Mirim [igarapé] was beautiful, clean and clear. Today, it looks like the water of the Purus River, muddy, right? We depend on nature, on pure water. The fish are also there, it can happen that the fish die because of contamination”, he warns us.

For Marino, the Apurinã people know that they need the forest to continue existing, just as the forest now needs them to continue standing. “With the forest alive, we are alive too, because we don’t need to destroy it. In our mind, our intention is to protect the wood, the game, because it serves us, so we don’t want invasion in our territory,” he points out.

He is not alone. Augostinho Batista da Silva, also known as Augostinho Apurinã, is the chief of the Santo Agostinho village in the Igarapé do São João Indigenous Territory. He expresses his concern about the impact of the BR-319 highway, which is already affecting their territory. He denounces the opening of the AM-366 road, which is a branch line connected to BR-319. “The fish started to become scarce since the opening of this branch line that they call AM-366. People started opening the road and they embargoed it [in court], then they started opening it again. The townspeople themselves started cutting down the trees. In the summer, they set fire to the territory and they kept opening up the road. Now it is huge there. They have already cleared about 10 kilometres [of forest]“, denounces the leader.

At the age of 34, Augostinho stands out as a young leader among the Apurinã. He has a more serious and distrustful character. His village stands out for its organisation and is another territory that is already beginning to be affected by the branching of the clandestine road. “It’s a politicians’ promise, so they open the road little by little. The people from Funai (National Foundation of Indigenous Peoples) and ICMBio (Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation) embargoed it, and then they open it again and they keep on opening it. The inhabitants of the city (Tapauá) want to plant crops in the summer and set them on fire. Then they already have a path, they use chainsaws, bulldozers and they go on making a branch line, opening the road like this”, describes the leader.

Fishbone effect

The “fishbone” effect, mentioned above, happens where uncontrolled branches and adjacent roads are opened up from the main road. The “fishbone” effect is pretty evident in the region. The construction of the AM-366 road has been accelerated due to the preliminary license granted by Ibama to the National Department of Infrastructure and Transportation (Dnit) for the paving of the “middle stretch” area (known in Brazilian / Portuguese language as “terra do meio”) of BR-319. This license was resumed and approved on July 29, 2022, still under the government of Jair Bolsonaro (PL). Marino Apurinã states that the consultation protocol about the works on the federal highway was not done and, as it is happening with the opening of AM-366, the leader fears that new problems may reach the TI of Igarapé Tauá Mirim.

“Our concern is what the roads will bring from now on, because through BR-319 they will open trails, so farmers, ranchers, hunters will arrive. The fear is that they will arrive inside of our territory”, reports the cacique-general (general chief).

The road to the AM-366 is easily accessible and begins within Tapauá’s urban area, close to the Luiz Ribeiro Maia airport (yes, there is an airfield in the town). Despite being built clandestinely, the road is a real project, as indicated by documents from DNIT. The Apurinã people express their concerns about the intrusion into their territory and emphasise the importance of consultation (Free Prior Informed Consent) and dialogue with the indigenous communities.

A team from the DNIT visited the São Francisco village in 2022 and took them a cartographic plan of the BR-319. According to chief Marino Apurinã, the technicians of the federal agency showed that the work would have exclusive corridors for the passage of wild animals. Despite the visit, the leader emphasizes that the conversation with the DNIT did not define the position of the Apurina. “They said that we approved it, that everything will be fine, but this was not a consultation. We are waiting for them to talk to us”, says Marino.

Sadness in their eyes

_{The indigenous Apurinã, Constantino Inácio Batista (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

In one of the houses, Constantino Inácio Batista, 63 years old, points his index finger to the floor, as if he wanted to write the history of his people on the wooden floor. He witnessed the birth of São Francisco village. With a low, measured voice, he declares that the Apurinã people have been forgotten, especially by those who could have made a difference. “Politicians don’t care about indigenous people,” he laments.

Raimundo do Amaral, 56 years old, has a long relationship with the indigenous people of the BR-319 highway, which links him to the story of Bruno Pereira, with whom he lived on a few occasions. Bruno Pereira, an indigenous specialist official, used to work for Funai (National Indian Foundation) until he resigned due to persecution within the agency. Amaral, who was not a permanent employee, was dismissed on January 24, 2021, while he was on vacation.

In 2002, Amaral went to do carpentry work for the Paumari Indigenous Territory at Lago Marahã, in the municipality of Lábrea, also located in the south of Amazonas. He says that he lived for a year and eight months in the village, enough time to establish a bond with the indigenous people. After leaving, Amaral was hired by Funai to work on a demarcation project. His first job was as a boat pilot. “Then I continued working, and until today I am here with the indigenous peoples. I couldn’t do anything else,” he says.

Amaral met the Apurinã that live in the São Francisco village in 2004. Four years later, he was hired by Funai to work at the Purus Ethno-Environmental Protection Front, a work that was developed with “indigenous people of recent contact”, a category to classify indigenous people created by FUNAI. In 2012, he took charge of the Environmental and Territorial Management Service at Funai, responsible for the municipalities of Pauini, Lábrea, Canutama, and Tapauá. In the latter municipality, where Amaral was born, he was sent to mediate a conflict among indigenous people. After successfully completing the mission, the Apurinã people insisted that he should not leave.

Raimundo Amaral is a serious man with a straight look, but he softens when he talks about Bruno Pereira. They met for the first time in 2019, at a training in Brasilia. He had the best impressions of the indigenist. “Bruno was discharged from Funai, but he couldn’t see things happening to the disadvantage of that people and just stay quiet,” he reveals. That’s why he faced threats, as Amaral himself has received himself. Regarding BR-319, he urges that the process should not be done regardless the rights of the native peoples.

“The point is not to say that you are against [the road]. What we want is that if it has to happen, that it happens legally, responsibly, consulting the indigenous population, seeing what damage these constructions will bring and what can be done to lessen this impact,” Amaral pleads.

Consultation Protocol

Sandra Batista, with her son in a boat on the way to the Apurinã village (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)

The coordinator of the Federation and Organization of Indigenous Communities of the Middle Purus (Focimp), Sandra Batista do Amaral, who is from the Apurinã TI Água Preta Inari, explains how the consultation process works. The first step is to go to the indigenous villages to gather information about how the indigenous people want to be heard – and not just show them a map.

“You have to have their permission. To know if they agree [with the consultation]. If they agree, we set up a meeting, it is not the government that will set it up. It’s on the indigenous people’s time. And it has to be done before things [the construction] happen. About BR-319, they haven’t been consulted yet,” explains Sandra. Prior consultation is one of the fundamental rights of indigenous peoples in Brazil, according to the International Labor Organization (ILO) Convention 169. “For some time now, they have not had their right respected. They are very angry”.

Chieftain Marino Apurinã demands this right to consultation. “They have to talk to us first. The government has to listen to us, because we are going to be affected. For them, it is good, but for us (the road) brings many problems with loggers and hunters. This is our concern,” he says.

“It is a highway that has no economic feasibility study, nor environmental studies completed,” adds Lucas Ferrante. The researcher states that he has found “fraud evidence” in the latest environmental studies presented, including the absence of a fauna survey and the impacts it will have on water creeks [igarapés, in Brazilian/ Portuguese language]. This complaint has already been published in scientific articles.

A total of 63 indigenous areas are expected to be impacted by the paving of BR-319, in addition to other traditional communities that are not yet recognised as such by the government. It also impacts an indigenous population near the Tapauá that live autonomously (a so-called ‘isolated indigenous population’ by the government).[1] Ferrante detected that in Manicoré (AM), a neighbouring municipality, there has been a 400% increase in malaria cases since the maintenance license was issued in 2015. Deforestation is the cause. “We see an endemic, the region becoming an epicenter of malaria because of environmental degradation,” he says.

In August 2020, chief Waldemiro Silva, former coordinator of Focimp, denounced the “announced genocide of the Apurinã people.” He sent a written document to the Federal Public Ministry (MPF) pointing out that the Dnit refused to carry out the previous, free and informed consultation, and the stretch of the half lot “C” did not have environmental studies. And it recalled that the mere maintenance of the BR-319 already brought visible impacts to the Indigenous Lands of Tapauá, including threats, invasions, and the proliferation of Covid-19 in the communities. The lot cited by the chief corresponds to 52 kilometers of the BR-319, which is the “middle road section” between kilometres 198 and 250. In December 2020, the Dnit, without having requested environmental impact studies or obtained any prior license, hired a consortium of companies to carry out the works of lot C. In September 2022, the MPF requested, and the Federal Court decided on the suspension of the work due to all the irregularities.

5th day – March 25

_{Aerial view of the beginning of the section of the AM 366 highway next to the Tapauá airport, in Amazonas, northern Brazil (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

Biologist Lucas Ferrante denounces as well that the equipment used to open up the road AM-366 belongs to the Tapauá municipality. “In that area, there are no legitimate producers. We checked the Rural Environmental Registry (CAR ,in the Brazilian acronym) that the land is claimed by the invaders, so the recent deforestation violates land regularisation norms that exist in Brazil. This is undeniably a case of criminal activity, involving individuals with links to organised crime and that the mayor of Tapauá helps them,” he says.

Mayor Gamaliel Andrade of Tapauá claims that the forest clearance was initiated by rural producers in the town prior to his administration mandate, which began two years ago. However, he is vague about who is responsible for opening the road that connects to BR-319. “I don’t know this other area there. According to some people, they are coffee growers. Many people are coming from other States to plant coffee in the municipality of Tapauá,” he responds a few days after the reportage visited the municipality. He mentions that 26 out of the 90 kilometres of this proposed road linking Tapauá to BR-319 have already been opened.

The mayor of Tapauá does not hide his desire to connect the BR-319 to the road AM-366, as this connection would facilitate the export of Brazilian nuts and fish from the municipality. “We have a low river, sometimes in the dry season the municipality becomes isolated. It will improve the quality of life and the income for our people. The BR is a dream for the state and a dream for the people of Tapauá,” he explains. [A brief pause: On May 9, some time after this interview, Gamaliel provided explanations to the Federal Police Superintendence in Manaus for carrying 100,000 reais (around U$ 495,000 dollars) in cash. The money was seized when he was preparing to return to Tapauá at the Manaus Air Club. The Federal Police also confiscated the mayor’s cell phone. He allegedly told the police that he could provide evidence regarding the origin of the money.]

In Tapauá, is located Abufari Produtos Amazônicos, a Brazil nut processing plant that generated revenue of 3,8 million reais (around U$ 765 thousand dollars) in 2022. Entrepreneur Leonardo Baldissera Santos is responsible for this business, having invested 4 million reais (around U$ 800 thousand dollars) in equipment and the industrial plant. The company commenced operations in 2019, and since then, production has experienced rapid growth. The first year saw the processing of 25 tons of nuts, followed by 47 tons in the second year, and 82 tons last year.

Part of the production comes from the company’s own farm, where approximately 450 individuals are employed for nut harvesting. Baldissera explains that around 1,400 people are indirectly involved in the nut collection, while 25 individuals work directly in the processing plant. Bertholletia excelsa, commonly known as Brazil nut or Amazon nut, is a large tree abundant in Brazil and Bolivia. The extraction of this Amazonian product is an example of a sustainable initiative. However, for Abufari to expand its production, a road is necessary to facilitate the transportation. Unfortunately, roads in the Amazon region are far from being sustainable.

“We understand that a connection of the municipality of Tapauá through AM-366 would connect the rest of Brazil to this remote region and it would bring development to the people here, more opportunities, economic improvements, such as transporting our products, and it would offer easier arrival of other products and inputs we need,” says Baldissera. “Obviously, taking into account environmental preservation measures as well. There can be a balance between environment and economic development”.

The problems in Tapauá extend beyond the forcibly opened road connecting the municipality to BR-319. Deforestation continues to expand, even within the Tapauá State Forest (FES in its Brazilian acronym), which lost 1,830 hectares of forest last year, according to information released by the BR-319 Observatory. This corresponds to an 891% increase in deforestation within just a one-year period.

Eduardo Taveira, the Secretary of Environment of the State of Amazonas, attributes the issues in the Tapauá State Forest to its location. “It faces deforestation pressures and it is an area directly linked to the BR-319 highway, which, despite being unpaved, has become a pathway for advancing deforestation. There is pressure from the Realidade district and from other areas,” he stated.

William E. Magnusson, an Australian biologist and researcher at the National Institute for Amazon Research (Inpa), points out that it is not enough to establish protected areas; enforcement is crucial. Magnusson’s observation aligns with the situation in the Tapauá State Forest, where a preservation area has been established but the area is already under threat.

It is curious, to say the least, to hear from the Environment Secretary that the precarious condition of BR-319 also adds to the difficulty in fighting deforestation. “Getting to monitor the areas is extremely difficult,” he justifies. The government of Amazonas has revoked licenses that were previously granted within the Tapauá FES conservation area. Inspection operations conducted by the Environmental Battalion considered carrying up the surveillance operations with boats or airplanes, but the latter option was deemed costly. By choosing river access, the criminals were able to warn others of the arrival of law enforcement officials, resulting in no immediate arrests.

Taveira mentions that during one of these operations, three vehicles were damaged: two belonging to the Military Police and one to the Amazonas Environmental Protection Institute (Ipaam). “Now, the Secretary of Public Safety managed to acquire a tanker truck to provide fuel for helicopters, because they don’t have range leaving from Manaus. They have to refuel in Humaitá, but there is no adequate fuel for helicopters there,” says Taveira.

Day 6 – March 26th

_{A pioneer resident of Realidade, a community along BR 319, Maria de Fátima Santana, 60 years old (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

Back to Reality, late Sunday afternoon, there is some time left for the meet more people who dream of the BR-319 being paved. Walking in a certain hurry, farmer Maria de Fátima de Santana, walks across the small wooden bridge that provides access to this district of Humaitá. We were lucky to come across the 60-year-old woman who belongs to the first family to arrive in this area, when there wasn’t even a district. “It was all jungle”, describes Maria de Fátima, who was 9 years old in 1972, when she and her father, João Ferreira de Santana, who became known as João Cuiabano, and her mother, Nilza Francisca Santana. João Cuiabano were the first ones to live in what is now the district of Realidade. Her father died three months ago. His widow is still alive and is over 80 years old, as Maria says. The family accepted an invitation from Nilza’s cousin, who was from Mato Grosso, who said that there was land available for planting.

Determined to conquer his piece of land, João Cuiabano arrived at a certain point on the BR-319 highway by hitchhiking, then he walked more than 30 kilometres until he settled where it would become, years later, the district of Realidade. “There was ‘nothing’ here. We ate fish, game meat and palm tree hearts,” she describes. Maria de Fátima’s father “didn’t know how to cut the rubber trees or to break Brazil nuts. Little by little more people arrived, the road “ended” and João Cuiabano’s family decided to stay. Through stubbornness.

Maria defends the asphalting of the BR-319 highway so that the residents can reach Manaus faster, and so that the farmers can sell their production. “There is nothing left to deforest, everything has already been deforested. You have to plant, who will live on land without planting? You have to plant the açaí for yourselves, the manioc, the rice, right? I am in favor of those who plant,” he says.

Day 7 – March 27th

Businessman Antônio Bertola, 55, carries a chainsaw on his motorcycle as he leaves his hotel in Realidade, in southern Amazonas (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)

Born in the city of Dois Vizinhos, in the interior of Paraná state, settled in Rondônia, businessman Antônio Bertola, 55, sold everything he had and moved ten years ago to the district of Realidade. Unlike the first migrants who arrived in the 1970s, the Paraná businessman moved to Realidade when he heard the promise of paving the highway made by ex President Dilma Rousseff (PT). And there he built the hotel La Kasita, the largest in the city. It is a simple building, which mirrors Bertola’s style. He receives his guests in jeans, sandals, cotton shirt and a cap to spare his sun-beaten white skin.

The businessman avoids using the word “regret”, but does not hide the frustration he feels for seeing that the road continues, after so long, existing just in “plans. “She [Dilma] said she was going to tar the road. We thought it would get much better, but then she didn’t paved the road and here we are. The money that we had invested was used here, so it has to stay now”, says the businessman. His savings were invested in a farm where he grows bananas and coffee, but that “there is no way of getting nothing from there because of the road”, and in Hotel La Kasita.

“You can’t say it’s bad, and you can’t say it’s good either, because during the rainy season (Amazonian winter) it’s very bad. The hotel movement is very weak because there is nothing on the road,” he laments. At this time of the year, the rainy season, motocross practitioners who decide to venture out on the road are some of his clients. Bertola has noticed a recent change in the profile of new residents of Realidade. More farmers are arriving who are investing in cattle herds, with dairy and beef cattle. He also defend the rebuilding BR-319, but he has little hope. “I think it’s kind of hard as long as Marina Silva stays there,” he says, referring to the Minister of the Environment and Climate Change.

André Bispo, a 29-year-old cowboy, recently migrated from Presidente Médici to Realidade with his wife and one year old daughter. In his luggage, the dream of becoming a farmer.”I haven’t bought any cattle yet. I bought some land, but there is no fence, right? So I have to build a fence and then buy cattle”, Bispo explains. While the cattle are not being raised, Bispo decided to set up a snack bar. With the donation of wood scraps from neighbouring sawmills, he is building tables and chairs. Everything is improvised, but he is happy with the result.

Bispo says that with the money that one can buy two hectares of land in the Presidente Médici region it is possible to buy 90 hectares in Realidade. “There the value is very high”, says the cowboy that, even without having his farm ready, doesn’t leave his style aside. A hat on his head, leather boots, a belt with a big buckle, he has the belief that he needs to explore something to succeed in life.

The cowboy, for now, has to deal with problems common to any Brazilian region without infrastructure. The electric power turns off all the time. When the power turns off, the schools dismiss the students and the health center provides precarious services. The sewage is still in the open air. The young cowboy believes that this is the fate of every village starting out. But this will change if and when the asphalt is paved. “If there is a road it will help a lot. I will be able to go whenever I want by car, the town will be much better, it will have better basic sanitation”, he hopes.

The dreams of those who arrived decades ago and those who continue to arrive form the timeline of BR-319. It is a history made up of politics. During the military regime in the 1960s and 1970s, one of the slogans related to the Brazilian North region was “integrate it so as not to hand it over”.

“BR-319 was part of a great project for the Amazon, which was to integrate the region by road to the rest of the country. It was part of a series of initiatives that involved establishing occupation expansion fronts, mainly with agricultural activities, and agriculture of non- Amazonian cultures,” explains the director of WCS Brazil, geographer Carlos Durigan.

The same policy that started the construction of the road in 1968 served to create, in the following decade, the Manaus Free Trade Zone, which was able to attract companies of the so-called “clean industry” to the capital of Amazonas, through tax benefits. BR-319 was inaugurated on March 27, 1976, in the presence of the then president, General Ernesto Geisel. Only 12 years later, the year Brazil promulgated the 1988 Constitution, the road was declared impassable. The company that took care of the road suspended its maintenance services.

In the early years of the re-establishment of democracy in Brazil, the BR-319 highway was left aside by those in power. It only returned to the public debate in 1996, during the Fernando Henrique Cardoso government (1995-2002), and more seriously in the mid-2000s, during the administration of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (2003-2011), and of Dilma Rousseff (2011-2016). The former Minister of Transport, Alfredo Nascimento (2004 to 2006/2007 to 2011), tried to recover both ends of the highway. But the “middle stretch”, according to Nascimento, because of the environmental license that was never granted.

The 2nd Federal Court of Amazonas in 2005 determined that BR-319 needed to be rebuilt, not just repaved. This implies starting the environmental licensing process from scratch. According to Carlos Durigan, the “middle road stretch” is formed by a large mosaic of landscapes with a relatively high diversity of forest environments, with areas of “terra firme” and flood able forests.

The region through which BR-319 passes is a large interfluve of the Purus and Madeira river basins, which, in turn, form the Amazon basin. It is a sea of water, therefore. “The middle stretch practically lost all its sidewalk due to this erosive process, lack of proper maintenance and the construction work itself not being suitable for this type of environment,” explains the geographer.

The Amazônia Real and Expresso teams concluded their visit to Realidade and returned to Porto Velho and Manaus on March 28th. However, the investigation into the fate of BR-319 and its significance for the Amazon region is far from over. The final chapter of this story will shed light on why the future of the highway and the Amazon lies in the hands of politicians.

The fate of the BR-319 Highway

_{Workers during maintenance on the BR 319 in the section between Porto Velho and Humaitá, where a pipe ruptured and opened a large hole in the road (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)}

Former vice president and now senator of the Republic, General Hamilton Mourão (Republicans), even promised that he would “eat his own militar cap” if he, Bolsonaro, and the former minister of infrastructure and current governor of São Paulo, Tarcísio de Freitas (Republicans), left the government without fulfilling their promise to pave the BR-319. There is no news that Mourão has kept his promise.

Elected for a third term, Lula ordered the inclusion of the paving of the BR-319 highway in the Ministry of Transportation’s plans, although he avoided discussing the issue during the presidential campaign. However, in March, Minister Marina Silva raised concerns about the license issued during the Bolsonaro government (2019-2023). “We are experiencing climate change due to the increase in burning and deforestation. If we don’t address the situation in the Amazon, it will worsen. The BR-319 highway issue is under evaluation. There is a license that was granted, but it is being reviewed. We need to analyse the project,” she said.

According to Imazon institute, the second-highest deforestation rate in the Amazon in 16 years was registered in the first quarter of 2023. In just three months, 867 square kilometres of native forest were cut down, equivalent to nearly a thousand soccer fields a day. This figure is second only to the 1,185 square kilometres recorded in the first quarter of 2021, during the Bolsonaro government.

Since starting his new term, Lula has shown a more favourable rhetoric towards the protection of the Amazon. In addition to launching an emergency operation to save the Yanomami indigenous people and taking concrete actions to halt gold mining in their territory, the PT president managed to reactivate the Amazon Fund through diplomatic channels, with support from the governments of Germany and Norway. The fund has even expanded with additional donations from countries like the United States and England, totalling US$ 5.5 billion. These funds will be used for projects aimed at combating deforestation and promoting sustainable development.

International interest in the Amazon, whether well-intentioned or not, provides ammunition for politicians to bolster their political speeches. However the debate around rebuilding the road BR-319 has contaminated logic and common sense. In January 2021, Governor of Amazonas state Wilson Lima (União Brasil) claimed that paving the highway would have prevented more deaths from Covid-19. During that fateful month, Manaus faced a severe shortage of oxygen, and 2,522 people died from the disease in the state.

However, Lucas Ferrante published an article, co-authored by Philip Fearnside, which suggests that the oxygen crisis in Manaus was “fabricated to support lobbying”

for the paving of the BR-319 highway. According to the biologist, at the time, the National Department of Infrastructure and Transportation (consortiu, in its Brazilian acronym) stated that the ideal route would be to transport the oxygen via this highway, starting from Santarém. “We demonstrated that it would be much cheaper and faster to transport the oxygen from Porto Velho via the Madeira River. But it was a strategy adopted to try to promote the paving of the highway, which cost many lives in Manaus,” points out the researcher.

Philip Martin Fearnside, a Nobel Peace Prize laureate from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) and a collaborator of Amazônia Real, has been warning the world about the numerous risks associated with the hypothetical reconstruction of the BR-319. As a senior researcher at Inpa, Fearnside brings attention to a factor that few people realize in this debate. He refers to the massive oil and gas project in the “Solimões Sedimentary Basin,” situated on the western side of the federal highway.

According to the Inpa scientist, AM-366 is part of the oil and gas project.

“The blocks of this project that intersect with AM-366 are among the 16 blocks for which drilling rights have already been sold to Rosneft, the Russian oil and gas giant,” explains Fearnside.

In Russia, the environmental organisation Greenpeace accuses Rosneft of causing over 10,000 oil spills worldwide. “The money and influence of a company the size of Rosneft means that it is likely to be able to convince federal and state governments to prioritise the construction of roads that benefit its operations, such as BR-319 and AM-366,” describes Fearnside.

Aside from oil, there is also economic interest in potassium extraction, which has led to territorial conflicts, particularly visible in the municipality of Autazes (AM). According to Alfredo Wagner, anthropologist and coordinator of the research group Nova Cartografia Social da Amazônia (New Social Cartography of the Amazon), potassium extraction in Baixo Madeira (Low Madeira river) is closely linked to the federal highway plans. “Because the BR-319 will serve as the outlet for this production, which will be transported to fertiliser factories that are planning to set up in Mato Grosso, the main agribusiness area. So, this region is strategic,” explains the anthropologist. Potassium is a key raw material for the fertiliser industry. Currently, Brazil imports 85% of its fertilisers, and 23% of that comes from Russia. The promise is that the existing deposit in Autazes

will be sufficient to meet 100% of the national market’s needs. “At this moment, many economists speak of the re-primarisation of the economy. We are reverting to an almost colonial situation, exporting agricultural products to European metropolises, and now, in this case, to China and Europe,” points out Wagner.

In other words, what the scientists are saying is that the paving of BR-319 involves more complex issues than just people’s “right to come and go” and the integration of Amazonas with the rest of the country. BR-319 has become the final barrier to preserving what remains of the Amazon rainforest, as it is coveted as a “gem” by billionaires and powerful economic markets, including gas, oil, and potassium.

Ferry at the port of Ceasa in Manaus, beginning of BR 319, as there is no bridge, vehicles are transported that way (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Trucks arrive at the port of Ceasa in Manaus, beginning of BR 319, as there is no bridge, vehicles are transported that way (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
View of the city of Porto Velho from the Madeira River bridge where the BR 319 begins (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Start of BR 319 right after the bridge over the Madeira River in Porto Velho, capital of Rondônia towards Manaus (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Driver drives on BR 319 between Porto Velho and Humaitá, in the stretch where there is still asphalt, paving the highway generates controversy (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Workers during maintenance on the BR 319 in the stretch between Porto Velho and Humaitá, where a pipe ruptured and opened a large hole in the road (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Workers during maintenance on the BR 319 in the stretch between Porto Velho and Humaitá, where a pipe ruptured and opened a large hole in the road (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Cattle farm along BR 319 between Porto Velho and Humaitá, this is the most common type of landscape on this stretch of road (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
A real floating city on the Ipixuna River in front of the headquarters of the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, with houses, commercial points, churches, schools (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Apurinã indigenous people cooking paca meat for lunch for the closing ceremonies of the school year in the village (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Cowboy on the unpaved stretch of BR 319, between Humaitá and Realidade, where cattle and soy farms are located (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Apurinã indigenous people processing the açaí by hand for the closing ceremony of the school year in the village (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Apurinã indigenous people participate in a ritual at Aldeia São Francisco, in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land in the municipality of Tapauá, Amazonas (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Apurinã indigenous people participate in a ritual at Aldeia São Francisco, in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land in the municipality of Tapauá, Amazonas (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
São Francisco village in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land, in the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, northern Brazil. Territory of the Apurinã people (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
São Francisco village in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land, in the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, northern Brazil. Territory of the Apurinã people (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Indigenous people from the Deni people went to the headquarters of the municipality of Tapauá for health treatment and to receive social benefits from the Brazilian government (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Floodplain forest on the way to Aldeia São Francisco along the Ipixuna river in Tapauá, Amazonas, northern Brazil (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Smoke against mosquitoes in the São Francisco village in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land, in the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, northern Brazil (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Details of the "saporenta" headdress made of buriti fibre adorned with graphic patterns of Apurinã indigenous people during "Kenêre" ritual (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Apurinã indigenous people participate in "Kenêre" ritual at Aldeia São Francisco, in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land in the municipality of Tapauá, Amazonas (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real)
São Francisco village in the Igarapé Tauá Mirim Indigenous Land, in the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, northern Brazil. Territory of the Apurinã people (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Wall with worn paint with the Brazilian flag in the center of Tapauá, Amazonas, a municipality with a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Vila de Realidade is on BR 319, one of the places where deforestation has grown the most in recent years and concentrates a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Vila de Realidade is on BR 319, one of the places where deforestation has grown the most in recent years and concentrates a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
André Bispo, 29 years old, came from Presidente Médici, in the state of Mato Grosso to try his hand at life in the District of Humaitá, the village of Realidade is on BR 319 (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Motocross practitioners train in the Humaitá district, the village of Realidade is located on BR 319 and is one of the places where deforestation has grown the most (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Vila de Realidade is on BR 319, one of the places where deforestation has grown the most in recent years and concentrates a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Vila de Realidade is on BR 319, one of the places where deforestation has grown the most in recent years and concentrates a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Vila de Realidade is on BR 319, one of the places where deforestation has grown the most in recent years and concentrates a large number of Bolsonaro supporters (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).
Riverside women living in the Novo Brasil community on the Ipixuna River in the Tapauá State Forest, which is being impacted by the construction of the AM 366 road (Photo: Alberto Cèsar Araújo/Amazônia Real).
A real floating city on the Ipixuna River in front of the headquarters of the municipality of Tapauá, in Amazonas, with houses, commercial points, churches, schools (Photo: Alberto César Araújo/Amazônia Real).

* This journalistic investigation project was supported by the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation

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A BR-319 highway in the middle of the road

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