Don’t Mine Our Land in the Name of 'Progress.' Protect Waorani Traditions

Perhaps people all over the world are a bit arrogant and think that their ways of doing things are the best ways. Arrogance like that can be annoying, and it can also be very funny. But it becomes something else altogether when accompanied by the desire, the will, and the ability to eliminate people who are different.

I am Waorani. I will not eat a meal in my territory if I do not tell or listen to the stories of how that meal was prepared. If I am a guest at another’s home in my territory, I will ask: Where did you go to fish? At which river, and which bend in the water, did you catch this fish? How long were you there? What happened along the walk to get there? How did you catch this fish? What happened on the walk back? How was the process of smoking the fish once you got home? Which firewood did you use? And what do you think of the flavors that come out when you use this other type of wood? But, of course, it is not an interview—I am not the only one asking questions. Everyone present talks and shares and asks and tells stories.

If someone invites you to eat in Waorani territory, you don’t just show up, sit down, and start eating. You share the stories of how the meal came to be in order to share the meal. If I am in a city and someone invites me to a restaurant, I must adapt. I may think it is funny, and even a bit sad, that people in cities mostly do not have a connection to their food or even know how it came to be on the plate before them. But I keep my thoughts to myself and share the meal on the terms of the place where I’ve been invited.

The problem is that the societies that make the cities that produce the meals with hidden stories want to destroy my home, destroy our forest, our rivers, our ability to fish, cook, and tell the stories of the meals we share. And they want to do this to feed their cities, to fuel their automobiles and jets, and to line the aisles of their supermarkets with food packaged in all kinds of plastic. But I do not want to live in the city. I do not want to become something other than what I am.

I want to be Waorani. I want to wake up before dawn, sit by the fire, talk about my dreams from the night before, listen to the dreams of my family, and plan our day accordingly. For us, dreams are central to who we are. Discussing them is part of how we decide if we should set out to hunt or fish, to work in the garden, to go for a swim at the waterfall, to gather plants to make dyes, to weave, or simply to take a walk.

Read More: Nemonte Nenquimo Says Mother Earth Is Calling and We All Need to Listen

To be Waorani is to live in deep connection with our forests, lagoons, mountains, rivers, trees, animals, and plants. To be Waorani means maintaining our own voices, our knowledge and values. It means walking through the woods singing a song that comes to mind knowing that our ancestors sang the same song. It means listening to the owls and the scarlet macaws to know if we will receive a visit from friends or relatives, to discern from a jaguar’s howl if we are in danger.

We live through our connections to animals and living spirits that guide and protect us. If the land and rivers are poisoned or razed and grow ill, so the animals and spirits also sicken and die, and so we lose our connection, our guidance. We will no longer be able to dream. We will become ill and disconnected, and we will die.

Industrialized nations have mostly consumed the oil in their territories and that in many territories they have plundered. Mine is constantly under threat. We have fought to protect it using the very tools of these nations against them: laws, technology, media, and direct democracy. And we have won. And still the distant governments and oil companies insist on destroying our home, destroying our people, destroying our language and culture, turning to ruin our very ability to dream.

Many people may be arrogant in thinking that the way they do things is the best. But it goes beyond arrogance and into the realm of injustice and truly vile behavior when one society decides to eliminate another in the name of what it decides to call progress. I do not want that progress. I want to be Waorani.

Nemonte Nenquimo is a leader of the Waorani people, cofounder of the Ceibo Alliance, and an activist. She is the author of We Will Be Jaguars: A Memoir of My People. Co-writer Mitch Anderson, Nenquimo’s partner, is the founder and executive director of Amazon Frontlines.

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