I cycle towards our little cottage in Cabelo Seco community, glad to be home. The 10 hours of driving 20 kilometres of collapsed highway through huge craters of rainwater on the Trans-Amazonian Express back to Marabá City have left me aching and exhausted. But the visit to the Kayapó territory has also provided vivid images of indigenous Amazonia, not just vulnerable, but wise and resilient.
As I dismount my blue bike, Samila emerges from the community’s House of Rivers cultural centre, drumsticks in hand. A throng of teenage girls follows her into the narrow street, afro-contemporary dance still animating their bodies. ‘Which indigenous people did you visit, Dan?’ Samila asks. ‘Yours,’ I smile. ‘Amazing dancers! Do you know how old they are?’ Samila shrugs. ‘I know the women only speak Já, the oldest language in this region.’
