Do we learn? Spirituality and Fraternity in the Amazon
Living with the Mundukuru
                                                                                                    Walter Andrade Parreira
 

It's still dawn. It is still dark. Rains. It rains, It rains really hard. Cold. It is very cold, a freezing. It's winter in the Amazon - there are six months of torrential rains. And cold. They don’t have enough things to protect their bodies, they are almost naked. But they are muffled by the Spirit; they receive the warmth of the Father. Do they need more?

Their children are hungry and they need to leave. The river is not calm and there are so fierce waves, and their canoes are tiny. In spite of being the canoing master – they are called the “head cutters”, " the Munduruku, the Mõnjoroko, the "Sun’s Children" and the "Moon’s Children" – there is risk of sinking, yes. But they know, with no doubt, that "the biggest disaster is not to leave" – they do know only death is not living.

I learn with them.

By the time they leave, a gesture of reverence and gratitude for life and a request for the spirits that inhabit animals will have been done, so these animals will give permission to be turned into food, food for the children who inhabit the village. If they are going to cut a tree in order to turn it into a canoe, they will have to be around the tree and hold it and also ask it to be turned into their work instrument, a means of surviving.

The Indians do not injure the forest while getting their food from it. The forest surrenders to the indians in the form of plant or in the form of animal, like a garden that raises its flower to the gardener. The gardener harvests the flower, the Indian harvests the tapir, the pacarana, the leaf, the root, the fish - the Indian harvests ... the communion between them. The forest takes care of the Indian like the garden takes care of the flower, like the plowman takes care of the plant, like the raiser takes care of the animal, like the father takes care of the child, like the Creator takes care of the creature.

The ritual of asking permission to the plants and animals expresses the relation between the indian and the sacred: the animal is sacred, the fruits are sacred, the forest is sacred. Life is sacred. The land is not one thing, an object to be used, sucked, expropriated ... The land is the earth, is the Mother-earth. Everything is sacred ... and life, a eternal celebration.

And, then, they sing a pray of gratitude to those beings which will be killed because thanks to them, their children and women will survive.

And a pray in which people tell life that they know and understand that one day they will also be the food of the earth and for other beings.

And I learn with them.

And, then, blessed, they harvest: one pupunha (one specific fruit grown in the Amazon) here, a manioc there and a matrinxã (kind of fish) over there, a pacarana across the river. They harvest until their baskets contain what they need for today. And having obtained it, they get back to their houses, to their children.

They only pick what they are going to eat today. They do not keep anything for tomorrow, they do not accumulate anything. They do not know what it is. They do not know private property and they do not even have means to preserve food. And if they do not keep and accumulate food, how could we expect them to keep other things? They do not need it. Every day the forest offers them what they need. It provides what they need. So, if there is a tree full of fruits, they only pick those that they are going to eat today. If there are a lot of pacaranas, deer or other animals, they are going to pick only one or two, just what they need for today. Even knowing that tomorrow the animals might not be around again. And they do not freak out, they do not wonder what they are going to eat tomorrow, but they will never know, today, what they will eat tomorrow. Despite not knowing what they are going to eat tomorrow, they know they just need to care for today.

"Every day demands only its own attention - do not worry about your lives, about what you are going to eat, do not worry neither about what you are going to wear. Look at the birds in the sky, which neither seed nor harvest.” “Do not worry, by saying: What are we going to eat? What are we going to drink? Do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow has got its own concerns. Each day needs only its care. "(Mt. 6.25-6.34).

Tomorrow is another day ... and that day hasn’t come yet. Each day needs only its care. Life is called Providence, they know it. There is nothing to worry about. Thus, they are those birds that fly free in heaven, just contemplating, being enchanted and enchanting...

And, as they harvest what they need only for today, as they do not accumulate anything, the life of the indian is the very expression of life care. As they do not have to worry about anything, no one takes care of the forest better than they do, nobody has more affection to the forest and to the animals and the fish than they do. Nobody knows how much the land, the river, the trees and all beings are sacred like they do. No one is more careful and more able to preserve life like them.

... And I keep on learning.

And because of this, the forest is prodigal. As the indians pass, the branch of the tree lies down so the indians can pick the fruit, the nature offers them the fish and other animals to feed them, their people. The forest thanks them every day, in all times. The Indian and the forest live a happy integration, a relationship of harmony and mutual care.

And so, by mid-afternoon, they get back to their work; we receive them in their canoes. And then, as a ritual, they put everything they collected in a central table of the village, the table that, not coincidentally, is even the center of the village. The meaning is clear: the center of their lives is fraternity, sharing and solidarity. Ritual that has two meanings that their children begin to learn, how they have learned with their parents, and these, with their ancestors. The first is a thanking, a celebration of life because it offered them that food – it is an offer, preparing the communion. We are experiencing the mystique of the table. The second is a teaching, they also want to teach their children: everything, everything collected from the nature is there, on the table. They want to teach their children: Everybody owns everything , no one owns anything. It is common ... it is communion. They might not have possessive pronouns in their vocabulary – yours and mine do not exist – there is only a pronoun: ours. Everything which is produced belongs to everyone. No one keeps anything for himself. Everything is shared. It's time for sharing. No matter that that brother did not go hunting, fishing, gardening, he also receives. Everything is there, there on the table, in the center ... place for sharing.

Sharing, fraternity and solidarity are the bases of their existence: when they cannot harvest the land of their own village, so they can harvest in another village, without even needing to tell or ask for permission. Their way of life can be expressed in one sentence: "How can I be fine if my brother is not?”

And, then, I remember where I live in, and wonder if I allow, a starving brother, to come into my yard and pick up an orange. Do I know how to do this? And I suffer and I am very touched ... I'm not like them, I do not know how to live like them.

And I wonder: Am I learning it? Will I be able to learn it?

And suddenly I feel so lost and confused: where am I? I traveled back in time and then I find myself a few days of Jesus death, a primitive Christian community? Will I be among the first Christians?

And, then, I realize why a missionary wrote something I read when I met them, that unusual and admirable people: "I came here to evangelize the ’savages´ and ignorant, I came here to evangelize the indians, but when I knew their way of life, I realized, I realized that it’s not me who is going to evangelize them. They are the ones who are going to teach me. I'm going to learn the Gospel with them. The Gospel in the indian, in their way of living, in their attitude of respect and love before nature and the others. It is present in their own lives, in their daily life. May Gospel not be separated from my attitude before life, but may it be this attitude integrated in me, as it is integrated into the life of the indians.“

The Munduruku do not read the Bible, because they can not read our words... however, much more than that, they live the message and teachings of Jesus every day, even they have never read it.

This is spirituality of those wonderful men and women called “savages” or "ignorant". Our civilization has got a lot to learn with them.

….Do we learn?