Luis Sonihue died on May 12. He was an elderly man from the community of Esse’Eja in Madre de Dios, a department in the Peruvian Amazon, where he often went. A few days earlier, Sonihue had gone hunting. He returned in the evening, offended and indignant because a park ranger had not allowed him to enter the Tambopata Candamo Reserve to hunt. From then on, he refused to eat anything. This, and the likelihood that he suffered from tuberculosis, led to his quick death.
The story became front-page news in the national media. Reporters did not really investigate, but rather took a sensationalistic angle. Some claimed that Sonihue had gone on a “hunger strike,” while others said he committed “suicide” or had been the victim of “witchcraft.” One paper even suggested that Sonihue’s death was staged, a publicity stunt for the “Day of the Environment.”
The reality behind Luis Sonihue’s death is, in fact, far more disturbing. According to UNICEF, the infant mortality rate in the Peruvian Amazon is almost twice that of the national average. A third of Amazonian children under the age of five years suffer from chronic malnutrition. Tuberculosis is rampant in indigenous communities. But the situation of the indigenous people of Madre de Dios is even more dire than these statistics suggest.
The way of life of the nine indigenous communities of the department of Madre de Dios was irrevocably altered with the arrival of the first conquistadors of the Amazon, the rubber tappers, who in the nineteenth century drove our ancestors out of their territories and forced them into labor to extract the rubber. Then came those seeking gold and wood. It was our misfortune to inhabit lands rich in resources that fetched high prices in the world market: gold, furs, feathers, chinchona bark, fine woods, oil.
As our resources were plundered, colonists moved into our territories. In less than 50 years, our indigenous communities were decimated. The Harakmbut population of 30,000 was reduced to 1,500. The government never worried about returning the indigenous territories. On the contrary, it dealt us a final blow. “Indigenous Peoples” became “Native Communities” and our territories became a series of remnants that divided our people into islands. Later, in the name of “conservation” we were forbidden to fish, hunt or gather food in extensive territories. No consideration was ever given to the fact that the great biodiversity that had survived in those territories was owed, in great part, to the indigenous peoples who inhabited them. In addition, the lands set aside for us have become environmentally depleted, as we are denied access to the territories that are now invaded by settlers, miners, loggers, or which are designated for “conservation.”
Even as large areas are destined for conservation, others are slated for exploitation. Some areas fulfill the needs of university researchers, biologists and, ultimately, the tourist industry. Others satisfy the great voraciousness of exploiters of natural resources, such as loggers and miners, as well as agribusiness. Sometimes, the authorities in charge of environmental protection turn a blind eye, allowing oil companies to enter our reservations—as was the case of Mobil in the reserved zone of Tambopata Candamo, the same reserve Sonihue was prohibited from entering. And we, the original inhabitants of the forest—the Harakmbut, Esse’Eja, Matsigenka, Yine, Amahuaca and other communities who isolate themselves to preserve their dignity and liberty—are transformed into strangers in our own land.
Foreign economic practices have profoundly altered our communities: Our communal lands have been taken over, our natural resources sacked, our rivers contaminated, our farms abandoned. This has inevitably undermined our identity as a people. These economic practices, which are accompanied by ideas and behavior that devalue the spiritual world, disregard our ancient knowledge of nature, and attack our people’s self-esteem, have undermined the strong ties built on the basis of unity, solidarity and reciprocity that have characterized our communities for thousands of years.
It is true that our communities have been decimated, and true that the indigenous people of Madre de Dios are now a minority. But does the hummingbird have to be the same size as the elephant for its rights to be recognized? Democracy does not consist of majorities imposing their views on a minority. In true democracies, there is no such majority, but rather the coexistence of many minorities.
We are saddened over the death of our brother, Luis Sonihue. But we are also proud that there are people like him willing to take a stand and risk their lives when their dignity has been taken from them.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Founded in 1982, the Native Federation of Madre de Dios (FENAMAD) represents the Harakmbut, Matsigenka, Yine, Esse’Eja, Shipibo, Kichuaruna, Yaminahua, Mashco-Piro and Amahuaca indigenous communities of the department of Madre de Dios in the Peruvian Amazon.
