54 Scientific American, February 2019tional Natural Parks of Colombia, take re-
ports from neighbors who border the in-
digenous lands and, when necessary, call
on allies in the Ministry of Interior and
Ministry of National Defense to act as
their muscle. It was the Ministry of Interi-
or that issued a formal warning to the
American missionaries, who were de-
terred the following year. Previously, the
Colombian military conducted flyovers at
the border to scare away would-be pros-
pectors in Brazil. And in 2017 the military
bombed a pair of illegal mining barges to
the north, after ACT notified them of the
presence upriver.
But the heart of protection plans re-
mains the efforts of the indigenous com-
munities themselves to police their lands,
provide eyes on the ground and, when
possible, shield their vulnerable neighbors
from outsiders. In 2012 the communities
incorporated the untouchable zone into a
detailed reserve management plan and es-
tablished two ACT-funded “control posts”—
three others are run by the National Natu-
ral Parks of Colombia and are placed at
strategically located bends in the river on
the border of the protected territories. The
locals and the park rangers are not armed
during these patrols. Instead they rely on
human connection, politely explaining the
protected zone, refusing bribes and then
retreating if they sense any danger. Often
this simple approach is enough. For now,
there are plenty of other places to mine
and fish. But the danger of violence is al-
ways a concern.
The recent missionary incursion is
an indication of a key liability. With lim-
ited funding, the guards are stretched
thin, leaving parts of the borderland vul-
nerable to penetration by stealthy inter-
lopers. At the meeting tribesmen com-
plained that the loss of support from
another NGO had forced them to reduce the number of guards
at the post.
Perhaps the most vulnerable control post is in on the south-
ern end of the isolated peoples’ territories, just across the border
from Brazil, where illegal gold-mining barges proliferate. The
post, known as Puerto Franco, is so remote, the situation so dan-
gerous, that guards are required to make radio contact several
times a day and are taught to use code words to convey if they
are in trouble. In case of an attack from gold miners, ACT has
built an emergency shelter with supplies and a spare radio in a
secret location nearby.
For the tribespeople themselves, an essential element is the
involvement of their shamans, their spiritual guides and the
keepers of traditional tribal knowledge. Sitting on a bench in
the longhouse one afternoon during my visit, local shaman Moi-
ses Nilmore Yakuna, age 55, removed a small pouch from around
his neck. He shook out a fine, black powder into his palm and
explained how he uses the powerful snuff, made from tobacco
and other ingredients from the jungle, to “open up” his mind
and reach the tribespeople using his thoughts. By performing
traditional rituals, including dances, he and the other tribal sha-
mans have built a protective wall with the spirits to keep miners,
loggers and drug traffickers out of the forbidden territories.
“Through our spiritual work with our thoughts, we give them
space, so they can live in peace,” he told me.
It is a job that is so important the locals have brought in out-
side help. They did so in 2016, a few months after Franco’s death,
when a guard at one of the control posts mysteriously fell ill and
died. That incident, along with a series of unexplained thunder-
storms on otherwise sunny days, prompted the elders to sendCHILDREN from the indigenous community of Borikada in Curare play on jungle vines.© 2019 Scientific American