THE FARMERS ARRIVED before dusk, setting up camp in the tall

grass. There were 25 of them, and for months they had been

attempting to occupy a sprawling farm known as Santa Lucia

that had been carved from the Amazon rain forest. All around

them, the once-impenetrable jungle had been reduced to

barren pastures—part of an orchestrated cam-

paign by large landowners and multinational

corporations to slash and burn their way deeper

into the Amazon. Every week, another 40 square

miles of the world’s largest rain forest—what

has long been the most important natural bul-

wark against climate change—go up in ‚ames.

Last year, the ƒres grew so large that they were

visible from outer space.

Here on the ground, in the fading daylight,

the farmers strung up hammocks and built a

small cooking ƒre. They were led by a former

schoolteacher named Jane de Oliveira. Broad-

shouldered and pale-skinned, with a wide face

and high cheekbones, Oliveira belonged to the

sem terra—a Brazilian social movement that

seeks to turn idle farmland over to those who

will actually work it. Evidence suggested that

Santa Lucia’s owner had created the farm by

stealing public land; Brazil’s constitution required that it be

turned over to those “without land,” to make it productive.

While the courts debated the matter, Oliveira had led

several occupations of the farm, setting up crude encamp-

ments built of scrap lumber and tarp. For the farmers, it was a

chance to escape the plantation-like working conditions that

have long dominated Brazilian agriculture in the Amazon.

They dreamed of carving out small plots of their own, where

they could grow rice and raise chickens. Unlike the ranchers

and miners who were setting ƒre to the rain forest or clearing

it, they would live and work in the jungle without destroy-

ing it. Beneath the smoke blanketing Brazil, the sem terra,

along with the country’s indigenous peoples, are the Ama-

zon’s last line of defense.

By occupying the farm, they were also putting themselves

in the line of ƒre. A month before they arrived at Santa Lucia,

hired assassins had killed nine villagers who refused to leave

a part of the rain forest coveted by loggers. Less than two

weeks later, a group of cattle ranchers armed with ri‚es and

machetes had entered an indigenous reserve and tortured

members of the Gamela tribe. The message

was clear: Those who did not make way for big

business would be removed by force. Oliveira

had received death threats, and her husband

had been shot at by a security guard hired by

Santa Lucia’s owner.

Now, as the sun rose on their ƒrst morning

in the new camp, the sleeping farmers began

to stir. A woman known as Blondie got out of

her hammock. The rich smell of co”ee, brew-

ing over an open •ire, cut through the tropi-

cal air, already hot and humid at daybreak.

Suddenly, she heard a sound in the distance.

It sounded like a car door closing—perhaps

several car doors. Oliveira, who was expect-

ing other members of the sem terra to join the

occupation, asked two young men to go and

see who had arrived.

Moments later the men came rushing back,

their arrival marked by the rustling of the chest-high grass

breaking before them. They were breathless. The police had

arrived, and they were headed toward the camp.

As the sun continued to rise over the forest canopy, the farm-

ers saw a line of men dressed in black, ƒling quietly through the

grassland. They wore balaclavas and carried ri‚es.

Tumbling from her hammock, Oliveira ran into the jun-

gle with her husband, following the others, her nightgown

T

KILLING FIELDS

Fernando Araujo

(opposite, top)

walks through the site

of the massacre at

Santa Lucia, where he

survived by hiding in

the brush. The ranch

was carved from

the Amazon, which

continues to be

destroyed by wealthy

landowners and

corporations (bottom).

OCCUPY AMAZON

Jane de Oliveira led a group of

landless activists. “She had a way

of making you believe the impossible

could happen,” recalls a relative.

90 VANITY FAIR APRIL 2020

DE

O

LIV

EIR

A:^

CO

UR

TES

Y^ O

F^ H

RD

ME

MO

RIA

L;^

FER

NA

ND

O:

©^

SPE

NS

ER

HE

AP

S;^

AM

AZ

ON

:^ S

EBA

STI

AN

LI

STE

/NO

OR