8 OCTOBER 15, 2001
Smoke Signals
Poverty, Disease, Oil Exploration and Logging
Drive Warao Indians to Venezuela's Cities
Indigenous people in South America are in need; their lives are changing.
CARACAS, VENEZUELA (AP)
Alquino Rivero's six children are
growing up barefoot in a dirty city
park. His wife begs and sells jew
elry. Fellow Warao Indians live among
foul mattresses, broken toys and
food scraps.
Yet Rivero said life is better here
than in his ancestral homeland of
eastern Venezuela's Orinoco Delta,
where activists say hunger, disease,
logging and oil projects have driven
thousands to head for the cities.
Warao Indians began leaving
Delta Amacuro State, where most
of the estimated 30,000 Warao live,
decades ago. But the trickle has
become a flood.
"What we're seeing, unfortu
nately, is a microcosm of what's
happening around the world,
where the majority of the last large
remaining oil reserves are in low
income or indigenous communities,"
said Michael Brun, an Environ
mentalist with the Los Angeles
based Rainforest Action Network.
Others are reluctant to blame only
big oil.
"We can't say that oil exploration
is what is making the Warao mi
grate," said Rosa Trujillo, a Con
gressional Aide on Indian affairs.
"Industry brings a new model of
thought (to indigenous peoples),
which is based on a society of con
sumption." Indian leaders agree, saying
Warao often are prompted to head
to cities when fellow Indians come
home with fistfuls of cash. Activ
ists estimate 2,000 to 7,000 Warao
are in constant migration to and
from the cities.
"Warao" means "canoe people" in
4
the Warao language and "Delta
Amacuro" means, "quilt of water."
Rivero, 41, grew up in a typical
Warao village in the heart of the
delta, dotted with thatch homes
built on stilts.
Warao fish in a labyrinth of small
rivers and tributaries that form the
Switzerland-sized delta. From
moriche palms, they extract flour
and wine and weave baskets and
hammocks.
But it's been years since Rivero
cast a fishing net into the dark, fast
flowing Orinoco. His life consists
of traveling back and forth be
tween Caracas and his village, 400
miles away. He stays in the capital
until he saves up about 200,000
bolivars, or about $270, which is
enough money to feed his family for
a few months.
"We don't have work to pay for
clothes, food, soap. If we had jobs
we wouldn't live like this," Rivero
said as he sat on a cot with one of .
his sons on his lap. "The govern
ment says it will help, but I don't
know when."
The remote Orinoco Delta has long
suffered industrial exploitation and
government neglect. Logging has
shrunk its forests and demand for
palm hearts is depleting the moriche
palms.
More than 90 percent of Warao
communities are hundreds of miles
from a hospital. More than 70 per
cent lack schools, telephones or
roads. .
At least 50 percent of Warao chil
dren suffer from tuberculosis or di
arrhea caused in part by river pol
lution. Most of the state lacks po
table water.
Environmentalists say the surge
in Warao migration began after the
government's decision in 1996 to
open Venezuela's oil industry to for
eign investment. Exploratory drill
ing began; forest plots were cleared;
some fish-bearing river flows were
interrupted.
But Indian rights activists say oil
exploration has been too small to
explain the migration. They note
BP Amoco abandoned its three delta
exploration projects last year, al
though environmentalists accuse
the company of leaving behind bur
ied toxic waste.
The state oil company, Petroleos
de Venezuela, which took over BFs
two other projects, did not return
calls seeking comment.
Rep. Noheli Pocaterra, a Wayuu
Indian, and other Indian lawmak
ers are drawing up a plan to de
velop agriculture and fishing in the
delta, bring doctors in, install a sew
age system and encourage Warao
to become involved in politics.
For the first time, a Warao is the
mayor of the Antonio Diaz district
of Delta Amacuro, where 70 percent
of Warao live. But Pocaterra ac
knowledges it could take years to
reverse the migration trend.
"I've received reports that things
are the same: hunger, disease,"
President Hugo Chavez said in a
recent speech. "There is a group of
aboriginal people that come here ...
I've asked Noheli to help us con
vince them to return but we have
to accompany that by projects, pro
grams to allow them to develop their
own land."
While downtown Caracas has its
share of unlicensed street vendors
and homeless, the sight of Warao
families living on the streets has
been unnerving for many
"Caraquenos." .
Indians had been rare in urban
areas of Venezuela, unlike some
South American countries such as
Ecuador and Bolivia where Indians
make up almost half the population.
Indians represent only three per
cent of Venezuela's 24 million
people and largely live in the delta,
the southern Amazon and the
northern desert frontier with Co
lombia. In Paseo Vargas Parkj Indian
women give birth on soiled mat
tresses, cook over open fires and
hang beaded necklaces from tree
branches in hopes of attracting
sales from passers-by. Children
play, sleep and defecate among the
trees. Most residents hurry past,
shaking their heads.
Culture shock, hardship and
heartbreak aren't enough to get
Rivero to abandon the capital's
smoggy streets and return home.
"People die there," he said. "I
don't want to go back."
Nakoda Freelance Photographer Will Call Oregon Home For Now
A rookie to Smoke Signals, Peta Tinda brings wealth of experience.
By Justin Phillips
Fort Peck Tribal member Peta
Tinda is the latest rookie to be
added to the award winning Smoke
Signals team and he brings a tal
ent to the job. Tinda is freelancing
as a photojournalist for the Tribal
newspaper.
Born and raised on the Fort Peck
Indian Reservation in Montana,
Tinda comes from a family of jour
nalism. His mom, Minnie Two-Shoes and
his three aunts all work for their
Tribal newspaper.
Tinda said one of his biggest in
fluences has been his mother.
Wotani Wowapi the paper's
name is in Lakota language.
Wotani meaning, "pay attention, or
"book or paper."
Tinda's great-uncle was once the
His uncle was also the Tribal Chair
'Working It" Peta Tinda cruises the Craps & Chrome Auto Show.
listen here," and Wowapi meaning
Vice-Chair of the Fort Peck Tribe,
of his Tribe.
Tinda has been an avid photo
journalist in the past years. In
2000, he took first place in the
Native American Journalist
Association's (NAJA) photo
shootout in Fort Lauderdale,
Florida.
Tinda now lives in Salem where he
will be attending school at Western
Oregon University in Monmouth.
"Right now I'm studying history,"
said Tinda. "I also studied journal
ism at Montana State University."
Tinda has worked for the Associ
ated Press, done several intern
ships and has a lot of experience in
mainstream media, but enjoys
working in Indian Country.
Tinda said he enjoys reading,
snowboarding, Japanese anime and of course photography.
"I love my job," said Tinda. "I wouldn't rather be doing anything else.
I believe that keeping people informed about things that affect them
is one of the most important jobs there is."
m lm& 9$ , - ll , "f ;