Amazon with Bruce Parry (2008) s01e03 Episode Script
Part 3
I'm in the Brazilian Amazon, heading into the heart of a highly protected reserve, home to the highest concentration of uncontacted tribes anywhere in the world.
It's a real honour to call you my friend.
I meet my old friends the Matis who I stayed with two years ago, and find them in the middle of a crisis.
And I visit the most powerful tribe in the region, the Marubo, a shamanic people, whose elaborate rituals form the fabric of their daily life.
But contact with the outside world has brought disease and destruction.
Here we go.
I decide to go and see the very people who are responsible.
And discover that the bad guys aren't bad after all.
Lots of laughter.
These guys don't stop giggling.
I've already been travelling thousands of miles on my journey so far, but it's only when I get up here, into the air, that it really strikes me as to just how large my journey is, and just how huge the Amazon is.
I can see in every direction for miles and miles, but here to me is the heartland of the Amazon.
I'm flying just south of the Amazon River, near the border with Peru and Colombia.
Below is a reserve stretching over eight million hectares.
That's roughly the size of Portugal.
It's called the Vale Do Javari, and it's a safe haven for some of the last tribal peoples of Brazil.
It's been protected by law since 1998.
Down here is an unknown amount of people living out their traditional lives.
I'm with Tota from Brazil's Indian Protection Service, or FUNAI.
After contact with the outside world, thousands of Indians died from diseases, so today's policy is to leave isolated tribes alone.
FUNAI has mapped six different uncontacted groups here, but they believe there are more out there that are still unknown.
Somewhere in this endless sea of green that we have beneath us is a small clearing with five huts that we're desperately trying to find, because there, housed, are the most recently discovered group of isolated Indians anywhere in Brazil.
It's like scouring for a tiny needle in the most enormous haystack.
With our fuel supply dwindling and bad weather on the way, we decide to give it just five more minutes.
Then suddenly our luck changes.
Oh, my God! I think we've found it.
Oh, yes, we have.
There it is, there it is, there it is.
Wow! It's incredible to think the people below us live in complete isolation from the rest of the world.
Who knows what they're thinking of this big, noisy white thing flying through the air above them, but it's really important that FUNAI does these research trips.
The weather was against us, and it's just an endless sea of green here, and we didn't have a proper grid reference, so to finally have found it is amazing.
The important thing now is we don't stay too long, we allow the FUNAI guides to get their information and then we will leave these people in peace.
Amazing.
It's been a moving day for me today.
Seeing that settlement with the isolated people is just the most powerful image, and I'm so happy that they have FUNAI looking after their interests.
And I'm also so happy that they have this reserve, allowing them the space to live out their lives.
And I just hope that they're able to keep that until it is that they decide that they want to make contact with the outside world.
For the next stage of my journey I'm back on the river.
Having seen this vast reserve from the air, I'm now travelling much more slowly, Amazon-style, into the heart of the Vale Do Javari.
This is an ancient rainforest, untouched and unspoilt for thousands of years.
Not only is it a pristine wilderness, but the indigenous peoples, who are very much part of that ecosystem, are still here, and that's very special.
Before coming here, the crew and I had to have thorough health checks, letters from our doctors and a full set of inoculations to avoid any risk of bringing in outside diseases.
I'm on a journey deep up the River Itui to meet a group of people called the Marubo, but on the way, I'm gonna go past a group called the Matis, who are very special to me, cos a couple of years ago I came and lived with them for a month and so there's no way I can go past their homestead without going in to say a quick hello first.
I've heard that since I last saw them, things haven't gone well for the Matis.
There's talk of health problems within the village, so I'm not quite sure what I'll find when I get there.
I recognise one or two of these bends.
I think we're really close now.
This boat makes such a racket I wouldn't be surprised if there'll be someone on the bank waiting.
Yeah, there they are.
Hi, everyone.
Compared to the last time I was here, the people waiting on the bank seem quite subdued and sombre.
Hello, my friend.
How are you? Ah, it's nice to see you, really nice to see you.
How is everyone? How is the community? Two people? Old people or young? I'm so sorry to hear that news.
Tell me, what is the illness? What exactly is the problem? I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, my friend, to hear that.
I'm only here for a short time, but before I'm invited to stay in the village, I'm asked to sit down for a formal meeting with the chief, Xema.
It seems I've come at a very difficult time and a very important time, so whatever I can do, please tell me all about it.
Thank you.
I'm shocked at the extent of the suffering.
They're asking me for my help, and my hope is that by telling their story, it will alert people to what's going on here.
When I stayed here last time, I lived with my host, Tumi, and his family, spending a whole month in their home.
He's had one new family member since I was here last.
After you Tumi, Tumi junior.
- Minke.
- Min Minke? Yeah, si.
Come on.
Hey, little one.
You didn't burst into tears.
That's quite unusual.
As night falls, those who are well enough gather in the maloca - or longhouse - to watch the film I made on my last visit.
I'm a bit anxious about how they will react.
FILM: The long house is the centre of Matis life - a place for eating, meeting and important rituals.
This morning, several hunters have the bitterjuice of a special root squeezed into their eyes.
That is as sore as it looks.
VOICEOVER: The parts of the film the audience seem to enjoy the most is watching me in pain or feeling ill, and it reminds me of their great sense of humour.
The Matis were first contacted by the outside world in 1976.
Within a decade, over a third of the tribe had been wiped out by outside diseases, especially measles and flu.
And now, 30 years on, they're suffering from yet another wave of epidemics.
Xema, the chief, has invited me and the crew into his home.
He wants us to meet his 2 1-year-old daughter, who's been extremely ill for the last few months.
Her condition is getting worse.
I know it's really difficult for you and your whole family, Xema, but please tell me what you have brought me here to show me.
Tupa, you've been told you have a form of hepatitis, but how is it manifesting itself? Xema and his wife, Tupa, have already lost a son to hepatitis, and are terrified of losing their daughter as well.
Hepatitis appears to be slowly working its way through the community.
With only 260 people in the tribe, the very survival of the whole Matis culture is at risk.
Paradoxically, it's the fit young men in the village who seem to be responsible for spreading the illness.
Hepatitis B is a sexually transmitted disease, brought into the Amazon from the outside world by loggers and other incomers who then spread it amongst the prostitutes in the local town.
At the village clinic, the nurse tries to teach some basic sex education, but it's a complex issue trying to change cultural behaviour, and the risks are now much greater.
While the government health agency Funasa says it's working hard to deal with the crisis in the region, the people here feel forgotten about.
They say the medicines simply aren't getting through.
Later that night the elders take their seats in the long house to discuss the ongoing health problems.
Before the arrival of outside diseases, the Matis relied on the village shaman - or medicine man - to treat their illnesses.
I hear that the Matis had powerful shamans once.
Where did they go? I'm about to leave the village to continue my journey but, before I go, my old friends have a little surprise in store for me.
I've just been introduced to one of the new arrivals in the village and this young chap here is called Bruce, much to my surprise.
Bruce.
Bruce, Bruce.
Yeah? The crew are teasing me, saying they can see the likeness which I find a bit cheeky, so I've brought along his father to prove that it wasn't me.
But apparently he's a good kid.
He plays a lot and we've just been introduced and he's a bit shy.
Nice to meet you, mate.
Tumi, I'm off.
I'm sorry my visit has been so short, but your message is very clear to me and please rest assured that I will pass your message on.
Wow I'm so touched by your words.
It's a real honour to call you my friend, Thank you for this, thank you so much.
Best of luck to all of you, best of luck.
I'll be thinking of you.
I'm back on the water, heading further up the River Itui, travelling deeper into the Vale Do Javari.
It's really sad listening to the Matis talk about their recent history, and so tragic, and one of the most poignant things is that they feelis the loss of their shamanic culture.
All their shamans have disappeared, but there is one tribal group in the Javari region that still has a very strong tradition in that way and they're a group of people called the Marubo and it's them that I hope to meet next.
But this is the Amazon, where nothing ever quite goes according to plan.
Our boat has broken down.
So we'll have to re-plan.
This boat's had it.
I'm cross decking, to a little version.
I'm on my way to the Marubo village of Parana.
The Marubo are considered the most powerful of all the tribes in Javari.
They've been in contact with the wider world for over 100 years, but have chosen to stay in their villages all the way up here in the headwaters of the River Itui.
They already know I'm coming as we sent someone ahead to ask their permission.
We've been told this village is home to the most powerful shaman in the region.
I think this gentleman here is Robson, who I've heard so much about.
Me nome Bruce.
Robson.
Nice to meet you.
Thank you, what a lovely meeting.
Hello there, hey.
I want to go and shake everyone's hands but I think I've been ushered into the longhouse, so I'm going to do that first.
Wow.
Me nome Makibre.
Makibre, me nome Bruce.
After such a quiet and sad time with the Matis, it's a shock to be given such a boisterous welcome.
(MARUBO WHOOPING) This is extraordinary.
I've never in my life had a greeting like this before.
Very physical, very hands on.
The Marubo is a relatively new tribe.
It was formed from various scattered groups that fled deep into the forest after the rubber boom of the 19th century when tribal peoples were forced into slave labour.
This hybrid group has now combined its various dances and rituals to form a new and vibrant culture.
They've built their villages here, deep in the Vale Do Javari, as far from the outside world as possible.
The Marubo seem to be putting on a bit of a show for me and the crew.
They're obviously proud of their culture and traditions and are keen to show them off.
The dancing goes on all afternoon and into the evening and shows no signs of slowing down.
I think it's going to be a late night.
As if today hasn't already been full of enough amazing occurrences, I'm just about to witness a shamanic ceremony on a child who's not feeling very well.
Robson, the shaman, lies in his hammock in its special place over the door of the longhouse and starts to chant the ancient songs that herald the beginning of a shamanic session.
(CHANTING) (OTHERS JOINING IN) The men chant for hours late into the night and slowly enter the trance-like state needed to perform their healing rituals.
What started as a day and an evening of cultural song and dance has turned into the most intense night of shamanising.
These two children are suffering from what I can only describe as flu-like symptoms and these shaman here are drawing out all of that sickness.
What I can feel now, looking around at the intensity on everyone's faces is just pure unadulterated belief.
It's extraordinary.
The hypnotic rhythms continue into the early hours of the morning.
The flu is an introduced disease, but the Marubo still believe that the power of their songs can heal their children and it's this commitment to their shamanic traditions that seems to give them such strength.
I've been given permission to move into the maloca, the longhouse.
Hey The Marubo live communally in the longhouse which will be my home for the next week.
Each family unit has its own private area but neighbours often share food and it feels like you're part of one large family.
After breakfast we head into the forest, hunting for the vital ingredients in a ritual test for the men of the tribe.
Looks can be deceiving.
If their ritual dances don't look particularly warlike, some of their other ritual acts most certainly are pretty hardcore.
This ritual's called the Tocandira and apparently, this one involves ants and their stings.
I'm not particularly looking forward to it, I must admit.
We've found the ant nest.
We came across Oh, my Lord, they're not small, these ants.
The Tocandira ant is also known as the bullet ant and has a fearsome reputation due to its very powerful and painful sting.
The Marubo use it as a test of courage.
I've just been given this little pot of menace to carry and I had a sudden wave of nausea.
I'm not feeling good right now.
The next part of the ceremony is to hand out the ants.
Each man carries his own, wedged into the end of a stick.
I think the idea is to make them as angry as possible so that they can inflict maximum pain.
I don't profess for a second to know much about ants but it looks like this one actually has a sting in its tail which means that's venom and that's what we're going to be experiencing.
Robson the shaman leads the proceedings.
Red plant dye is used to paint targets in strategic positions on the body where the ants will be applied and encouraged to unleash their stings.
Yeah? OK.
Wow.
Thank the Lord for that.
It looks like I'm getting let off lightly.
People are walking around with them on their faces.
Once the ants and the men are ready, there's another bout of singing and dancing, as we all head into the longhouse for the main event.
I'm allergic to wasp stings and apparently ant venom is made up of a similar substance, so I'm a little nervous about getting a severe reaction.
It's quite a slow torture just sitting in line waiting for you to have your venom delivered.
I've no doubt this is quite painful.
Kakaya, first time.
Ah! I felt that.
Ouch! You can see a slight reaction, very slight.
If I think this is painful, imagine having it there and there and there like some of these guys.
My arm's quite sore still.
It feels like I've still got a couple of hot needles in there.
We're gonna go all through the night and I've been told that the reason we go through the night is another test.
It's another proof of your courage and your manliness, whatever you want to call it, and very much part of this is some of the members here within the community are undergoing ritual shaman training and they must be seen to stay up all night.
Some of the men are obviously in a great deal of pain.
So interesting being here and experiencing all this.
There's so much depth to the culture, it's really proudly shown off here.
I think I'm in for a long night.
In order to stay up all night, the men take snuff, or Ape, a traditional mixture of herbs and tobacco.
The chief, Kakaya, has offered to give me my first taste of the Marubo's sacred stimulant.
This is my first time.
Can you explain what I should do, please? Unfortunately, with my lack of experience, I managed to blow the snuff back into the chief's mouth (COUGHING) A bit of a faux pas in Marubo culture.
Lo siento.
That first one was so strong, it really hit me hard but I think I breathed out most of it back into his mouth.
Poor guy, he's having to cough up loads of snuff in his gob.
I feel a bit bad about that.
It's breakfast time in the maloca.
Each of us brings our own sort of breakfast addition to the eating area.
I'll bring it down and place it in front of myself.
But as soon as it's there, it's for everyone.
Which, in turn, means that I can take something off anyone else's plate.
Let me show you the highlight.
A bit of plantain with this.
It's like a meaty sauce, but it's also got chillies in.
Delicious! Neglecting my duties Because I told the community to treat me as a small child, one of the kids' jobs is to come and get the refills and, believe me, we refill a lot, there's no shortage of food.
All of these pots are for today's meal.
I can't help but compare my experience here with the Marubo to my time with the Matis.
While the Matis are struggling to find their place in the modern world, and have lost so much, the Marubo seem highly motivated and determined to keep their culture alive.
I've been wondering to myself what the secret is for the Marubo's strength in their culture.
They really are proud of it and they're strong and one of the things, maybe, is that they stamp that identity all the time and the way they stay long into the night and all these things, they're quite regimented, actually.
It's quite a routine that they have, and even their haircuts, sitting here next to this guy, it's kind of military almost.
I'm being painted in preparation for another ritual called the Aco ceremony.
There's a strange, almost cult-like feel about this place, centred around the young shaman, Robson, and I wonder if life is like this all the time here or if the camera is making them feel they have to perform.
Today's ceremony in our week of magical events isoff cutting down a tree in order to make a drum for the longhouse.
The best trees for the Aco are across the river, and the men set off for a hard day's work.
They all seem quite happy to let me do the hard work.
In fact, they seem to enjoy watching the gringo sweat.
(WHOOPING) The nextjob is to carve the Aco drum out of the log.
The whole process takes two days until the Aco is finally ready to go.
Now all that's required is taking it back into the village, no doubt with a fair bit of ceremony.
The log must weigh at least a tonne, and it takes all of our combined strength to carry it.
So many people over undulating ground.
Sometimes it's really light, and other times, you feel like you're carrying the whole thing yourself.
I really wasn't expecting the log to be this heavy.
Those few moments when you really took the weight yourself, it was extraordinary, back-breakingly heavy, and we've got that hill to go up now.
The women of the village come out to welcome in the new Aco and to encourage the men in their efforts.
I thought we were being wimps when we kept having to keep putting it down, but now I realise that's all part of it, because we've even got refreshment breaks on our route because they knew in advance it was going to take us this long.
Bizarrely, tickling plays a big part in the Aco Ceremony.
The customs and rituals of the Marubo never fail to surprise, and according to this tradition, the women must tickle their brothers-in-law as they take rests between carrying the massive log.
Last little leg into the longhouse, except, of course, we can't go through the near door.
We've got to use the, er Ooh-ay! The Aco is used primarily as a communication tool to send messages to neighbouring villages.
They use it to announce a death or a birth, a party, orjust a simple hunting trip.
Once it's in place, the men start to hammer out their rhythms on the Aco.
I get the feeling once again that we have a very long night ahead.
There are many superstitions surrounding the drum.
For example, if your wife is pregnant, you can't play, as it's considered bad luck.
The Aco Ceremony wouldn't be complete without the usual singing and dancing session, and all the young men and women take their partners for another all-night party.
It's nice to be popular, but I think I'll try and sit this one out if I get a chance.
As the night draws on, the crew heads for bed.
But as my hammock is now in the longhouse, I keep dancing long into the night.
Once again, Robson and the other shamans start to sing their ancient songs, but one of the young girls reminds me that I'm still in the 2 1st century.
She handed me an earpiece, and in one ear I've got the village shaman, and in the other, I've got Michael Jackson's Thriller.
I can't quite get my head around it.
Unreal.
Get a load of that! Like many people here, the chief's 10-year-old son is suffering from malaria.
The chief sings to him for hours on end to try and rid him of the disease.
Malaria here is considered as an introduced disease, an outsiders' disease, and here we have a father's all-night vigil, using the power of song to try and save the life of his own son.
We've been up all night and I'm about leave.
There's time forjust one last dip.
Finally, after an exhausting five days, I say my goodbyes to Robson.
Thank you so much for looking after me during my short stay.
Thank you.
Whatever I think of the Marubo's intensive methods of maintaining their identity, it's clear that it's working, and their culture is very much alive - and they're happy.
I've now come to the very edge of the indigenous reserve, where the forest is no longer protected.
In this frontier zone, logging is big business and hundreds of chainsaw gangs are busy cutting down the valuable hardwoods for export.
I felt that I couldn't really leave the area until I'd seen a little bit of the other side of the coin, so I'm off to go and live with some loggers to see what life is like from their perspective.
I'm slightly nervous about the next few days.
The people I'm going to see are considered the bad guys, the men who are responsible for bringing diseases into the region and whose job it is to destroy the forest.
(SAW WHIRRING) Oh, this must be the logging camp.
Well hidden.
Raymondo, hey! I'm at the right place, it seems.
That's a relief.
- Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
- Cheers.
Wow, I like your camp.
Thank you.
Most of the loggers are out at work, but a few minutes later, dinner arrives.
Aqui, senor.
Amigo My God.
This is Boto.
He's just got back from a hunting trip, in case you hadn't worked it out for yourself.
Much like the Matis and the Marubo, the loggers spend most of their lives in the forest, and they, too, have developed an extensive knowledge of the animals and plants of the region.
Throughout the afternoon, the camp gradually fills up as more and more loggers appear from the forest after a hard day's work.
Homely feeling around this camp, actually.
I've been made really welcome and there's just lots of laughter.
These guys don't stop giggling.
It's a really friendly, friendly environment.
But, Raymondo, my time here is to allow you to tell the world what you think about yourjob and what you are doing.
Boto and Victor have asked me to come and help them with some work.
It's rainy season in the Amazon and the water is steadily rising.
This the best time to move the cut logs down river, using the swollen stream as a living conveyer belt.
(BRUCE LAUGHS) This is not easy.
Not easy for me, anyway.
Too late, too late, too late.
OK.
(LAUGHTER) If you try too much to go on the ones in the middle and you step slightly off balance, they start spinning, and it's really hard to right that, and unless you've got another one to get onto, if you're like me, you're straight in the water.
The idea is to free up all the logs and keep them moving down to the main river so they can eventually be rafted up, shipped out and sold.
It's really hard work, this.
You have to have a sure footing the whole time and really good balance, but just an hour or so andknackering.
On the menu for tonight is woolly monkey stew.
Food always just tastes so much nicer outdoors, and if you've done a little bit of work, doesn't matter what it is, it just always seems to taste good.
What's your favourite food here in the jungle? That's very kind, but you're good teachersand I enjoyed it.
It was good fun.
Bueno.
Having just watched the experts in action, they're now keen for me to have a go.
OK.
And is it OK to cut from there, or must I cut from the end? - No.
- So like that.
Then, will it? So, I just hold it strong here? OK.
A real case of nerves, actually.
Not only am I understandably fearful of the chainsaw, a kind of healthy respect for it, but also, just a tree falling - I know how unpredictable it can be.
(CHAINSAW CUTS OUT) But just as I'm about to cut down my first tree, the chainsaw grinds to a halt.
(ENGINE SPUTTERS) Can you get the spark plug out and have a look? Kaput.
They've been playing this for a while, but it's not working, and this is their only chainsaw.
So, this tree has had a lucky escape and so, in many ways, have I.
But even without a chainsaw, the work must go on.
One of the hardest jobs is to get the logs from where they've been felled down to the river.
Using manpower alone, we have to clear a wide path through the forest and wrestle the logs to the stream.
The interesting thing about this, this isn't big logging at all.
This is not industrial clear felling.
This is what they call selective logging.
But there's still a question over how sustainable this form of logging is.
For every one tree you cut down, you lose several more trying to extract the logs.
No matter how much I love these guys, and I do - they are the nicest people that I've met on my journey for a long time, I'm really enjoying their company - seeing this industry shows to me really what's going on.
Yah! Yah.
Here we go.
It's hard work, hard work.
Just one little length, just a short distance.
Victor, this log that we have just rolled in here, how much will you sell that for in town? How much is that worth? For all this effort and hard work, the men get just £ 12 a metre for their timber - roughly £50 a log, which has to be split between the whole crew.
Despite everyone's efforts, the chainsaw is still refusing to work this morning, so it's back on the river to take advantage of the recent rain to keep moving all the logs further downstream.
Much harder today because we've got to get all of these out somehow.
Steer it, and watch you don't get crushed from behind.
Come on! Trying to turn that end by this little lever, here.
Once you've got the direction right, you can have a little rest.
(SIGHS) Just as I'm about to leave, something clicks.
At last, I'm getting the hang of it.
Now, this is the best bit, cos finally, having brought all of these logs from the forest into the creek, we're now in the river where it's big enough that we can raft them up and from here, it's a bit more steady, and it's plain sailing all the way down.
But, sadly, it's time to go.
I have to return to the main river and continue my journey downstream.
- OK.
- OK.
Victor, muchos obrigado.
Obrigado.
You've been a good man, and thank you for teaching me so much.
- Obrigado.
OK.
- Obrigado.
OK, my friend.
Hey, obrigado! (CHEERING) During my time in Javari, I've seen many perspectives of life in the forest.
The loggers are not the demons I once thought, but ordinary men living out the only life they know to satisfy our demand for hardwood.
The Marubo are keeping their culture alive through their regime of rituals, and the Matis are still struggling for their very survival as they grapple with the outside world.
I hope the uncontacted tribes can keep the chainsaws and diseases at bay and continue to live in isolation as long as THEYchoose to.
On the next leg of my journey, I travel into the heart of the Brazilian Amazon, where I get to grips with the natural world.
This is fishing! And I find a ray of hope in the struggle to save the Amazon.
It's a real honour to call you my friend.
I meet my old friends the Matis who I stayed with two years ago, and find them in the middle of a crisis.
And I visit the most powerful tribe in the region, the Marubo, a shamanic people, whose elaborate rituals form the fabric of their daily life.
But contact with the outside world has brought disease and destruction.
Here we go.
I decide to go and see the very people who are responsible.
And discover that the bad guys aren't bad after all.
Lots of laughter.
These guys don't stop giggling.
I've already been travelling thousands of miles on my journey so far, but it's only when I get up here, into the air, that it really strikes me as to just how large my journey is, and just how huge the Amazon is.
I can see in every direction for miles and miles, but here to me is the heartland of the Amazon.
I'm flying just south of the Amazon River, near the border with Peru and Colombia.
Below is a reserve stretching over eight million hectares.
That's roughly the size of Portugal.
It's called the Vale Do Javari, and it's a safe haven for some of the last tribal peoples of Brazil.
It's been protected by law since 1998.
Down here is an unknown amount of people living out their traditional lives.
I'm with Tota from Brazil's Indian Protection Service, or FUNAI.
After contact with the outside world, thousands of Indians died from diseases, so today's policy is to leave isolated tribes alone.
FUNAI has mapped six different uncontacted groups here, but they believe there are more out there that are still unknown.
Somewhere in this endless sea of green that we have beneath us is a small clearing with five huts that we're desperately trying to find, because there, housed, are the most recently discovered group of isolated Indians anywhere in Brazil.
It's like scouring for a tiny needle in the most enormous haystack.
With our fuel supply dwindling and bad weather on the way, we decide to give it just five more minutes.
Then suddenly our luck changes.
Oh, my God! I think we've found it.
Oh, yes, we have.
There it is, there it is, there it is.
Wow! It's incredible to think the people below us live in complete isolation from the rest of the world.
Who knows what they're thinking of this big, noisy white thing flying through the air above them, but it's really important that FUNAI does these research trips.
The weather was against us, and it's just an endless sea of green here, and we didn't have a proper grid reference, so to finally have found it is amazing.
The important thing now is we don't stay too long, we allow the FUNAI guides to get their information and then we will leave these people in peace.
Amazing.
It's been a moving day for me today.
Seeing that settlement with the isolated people is just the most powerful image, and I'm so happy that they have FUNAI looking after their interests.
And I'm also so happy that they have this reserve, allowing them the space to live out their lives.
And I just hope that they're able to keep that until it is that they decide that they want to make contact with the outside world.
For the next stage of my journey I'm back on the river.
Having seen this vast reserve from the air, I'm now travelling much more slowly, Amazon-style, into the heart of the Vale Do Javari.
This is an ancient rainforest, untouched and unspoilt for thousands of years.
Not only is it a pristine wilderness, but the indigenous peoples, who are very much part of that ecosystem, are still here, and that's very special.
Before coming here, the crew and I had to have thorough health checks, letters from our doctors and a full set of inoculations to avoid any risk of bringing in outside diseases.
I'm on a journey deep up the River Itui to meet a group of people called the Marubo, but on the way, I'm gonna go past a group called the Matis, who are very special to me, cos a couple of years ago I came and lived with them for a month and so there's no way I can go past their homestead without going in to say a quick hello first.
I've heard that since I last saw them, things haven't gone well for the Matis.
There's talk of health problems within the village, so I'm not quite sure what I'll find when I get there.
I recognise one or two of these bends.
I think we're really close now.
This boat makes such a racket I wouldn't be surprised if there'll be someone on the bank waiting.
Yeah, there they are.
Hi, everyone.
Compared to the last time I was here, the people waiting on the bank seem quite subdued and sombre.
Hello, my friend.
How are you? Ah, it's nice to see you, really nice to see you.
How is everyone? How is the community? Two people? Old people or young? I'm so sorry to hear that news.
Tell me, what is the illness? What exactly is the problem? I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, my friend, to hear that.
I'm only here for a short time, but before I'm invited to stay in the village, I'm asked to sit down for a formal meeting with the chief, Xema.
It seems I've come at a very difficult time and a very important time, so whatever I can do, please tell me all about it.
Thank you.
I'm shocked at the extent of the suffering.
They're asking me for my help, and my hope is that by telling their story, it will alert people to what's going on here.
When I stayed here last time, I lived with my host, Tumi, and his family, spending a whole month in their home.
He's had one new family member since I was here last.
After you Tumi, Tumi junior.
- Minke.
- Min Minke? Yeah, si.
Come on.
Hey, little one.
You didn't burst into tears.
That's quite unusual.
As night falls, those who are well enough gather in the maloca - or longhouse - to watch the film I made on my last visit.
I'm a bit anxious about how they will react.
FILM: The long house is the centre of Matis life - a place for eating, meeting and important rituals.
This morning, several hunters have the bitterjuice of a special root squeezed into their eyes.
That is as sore as it looks.
VOICEOVER: The parts of the film the audience seem to enjoy the most is watching me in pain or feeling ill, and it reminds me of their great sense of humour.
The Matis were first contacted by the outside world in 1976.
Within a decade, over a third of the tribe had been wiped out by outside diseases, especially measles and flu.
And now, 30 years on, they're suffering from yet another wave of epidemics.
Xema, the chief, has invited me and the crew into his home.
He wants us to meet his 2 1-year-old daughter, who's been extremely ill for the last few months.
Her condition is getting worse.
I know it's really difficult for you and your whole family, Xema, but please tell me what you have brought me here to show me.
Tupa, you've been told you have a form of hepatitis, but how is it manifesting itself? Xema and his wife, Tupa, have already lost a son to hepatitis, and are terrified of losing their daughter as well.
Hepatitis appears to be slowly working its way through the community.
With only 260 people in the tribe, the very survival of the whole Matis culture is at risk.
Paradoxically, it's the fit young men in the village who seem to be responsible for spreading the illness.
Hepatitis B is a sexually transmitted disease, brought into the Amazon from the outside world by loggers and other incomers who then spread it amongst the prostitutes in the local town.
At the village clinic, the nurse tries to teach some basic sex education, but it's a complex issue trying to change cultural behaviour, and the risks are now much greater.
While the government health agency Funasa says it's working hard to deal with the crisis in the region, the people here feel forgotten about.
They say the medicines simply aren't getting through.
Later that night the elders take their seats in the long house to discuss the ongoing health problems.
Before the arrival of outside diseases, the Matis relied on the village shaman - or medicine man - to treat their illnesses.
I hear that the Matis had powerful shamans once.
Where did they go? I'm about to leave the village to continue my journey but, before I go, my old friends have a little surprise in store for me.
I've just been introduced to one of the new arrivals in the village and this young chap here is called Bruce, much to my surprise.
Bruce.
Bruce, Bruce.
Yeah? The crew are teasing me, saying they can see the likeness which I find a bit cheeky, so I've brought along his father to prove that it wasn't me.
But apparently he's a good kid.
He plays a lot and we've just been introduced and he's a bit shy.
Nice to meet you, mate.
Tumi, I'm off.
I'm sorry my visit has been so short, but your message is very clear to me and please rest assured that I will pass your message on.
Wow I'm so touched by your words.
It's a real honour to call you my friend, Thank you for this, thank you so much.
Best of luck to all of you, best of luck.
I'll be thinking of you.
I'm back on the water, heading further up the River Itui, travelling deeper into the Vale Do Javari.
It's really sad listening to the Matis talk about their recent history, and so tragic, and one of the most poignant things is that they feelis the loss of their shamanic culture.
All their shamans have disappeared, but there is one tribal group in the Javari region that still has a very strong tradition in that way and they're a group of people called the Marubo and it's them that I hope to meet next.
But this is the Amazon, where nothing ever quite goes according to plan.
Our boat has broken down.
So we'll have to re-plan.
This boat's had it.
I'm cross decking, to a little version.
I'm on my way to the Marubo village of Parana.
The Marubo are considered the most powerful of all the tribes in Javari.
They've been in contact with the wider world for over 100 years, but have chosen to stay in their villages all the way up here in the headwaters of the River Itui.
They already know I'm coming as we sent someone ahead to ask their permission.
We've been told this village is home to the most powerful shaman in the region.
I think this gentleman here is Robson, who I've heard so much about.
Me nome Bruce.
Robson.
Nice to meet you.
Thank you, what a lovely meeting.
Hello there, hey.
I want to go and shake everyone's hands but I think I've been ushered into the longhouse, so I'm going to do that first.
Wow.
Me nome Makibre.
Makibre, me nome Bruce.
After such a quiet and sad time with the Matis, it's a shock to be given such a boisterous welcome.
(MARUBO WHOOPING) This is extraordinary.
I've never in my life had a greeting like this before.
Very physical, very hands on.
The Marubo is a relatively new tribe.
It was formed from various scattered groups that fled deep into the forest after the rubber boom of the 19th century when tribal peoples were forced into slave labour.
This hybrid group has now combined its various dances and rituals to form a new and vibrant culture.
They've built their villages here, deep in the Vale Do Javari, as far from the outside world as possible.
The Marubo seem to be putting on a bit of a show for me and the crew.
They're obviously proud of their culture and traditions and are keen to show them off.
The dancing goes on all afternoon and into the evening and shows no signs of slowing down.
I think it's going to be a late night.
As if today hasn't already been full of enough amazing occurrences, I'm just about to witness a shamanic ceremony on a child who's not feeling very well.
Robson, the shaman, lies in his hammock in its special place over the door of the longhouse and starts to chant the ancient songs that herald the beginning of a shamanic session.
(CHANTING) (OTHERS JOINING IN) The men chant for hours late into the night and slowly enter the trance-like state needed to perform their healing rituals.
What started as a day and an evening of cultural song and dance has turned into the most intense night of shamanising.
These two children are suffering from what I can only describe as flu-like symptoms and these shaman here are drawing out all of that sickness.
What I can feel now, looking around at the intensity on everyone's faces is just pure unadulterated belief.
It's extraordinary.
The hypnotic rhythms continue into the early hours of the morning.
The flu is an introduced disease, but the Marubo still believe that the power of their songs can heal their children and it's this commitment to their shamanic traditions that seems to give them such strength.
I've been given permission to move into the maloca, the longhouse.
Hey The Marubo live communally in the longhouse which will be my home for the next week.
Each family unit has its own private area but neighbours often share food and it feels like you're part of one large family.
After breakfast we head into the forest, hunting for the vital ingredients in a ritual test for the men of the tribe.
Looks can be deceiving.
If their ritual dances don't look particularly warlike, some of their other ritual acts most certainly are pretty hardcore.
This ritual's called the Tocandira and apparently, this one involves ants and their stings.
I'm not particularly looking forward to it, I must admit.
We've found the ant nest.
We came across Oh, my Lord, they're not small, these ants.
The Tocandira ant is also known as the bullet ant and has a fearsome reputation due to its very powerful and painful sting.
The Marubo use it as a test of courage.
I've just been given this little pot of menace to carry and I had a sudden wave of nausea.
I'm not feeling good right now.
The next part of the ceremony is to hand out the ants.
Each man carries his own, wedged into the end of a stick.
I think the idea is to make them as angry as possible so that they can inflict maximum pain.
I don't profess for a second to know much about ants but it looks like this one actually has a sting in its tail which means that's venom and that's what we're going to be experiencing.
Robson the shaman leads the proceedings.
Red plant dye is used to paint targets in strategic positions on the body where the ants will be applied and encouraged to unleash their stings.
Yeah? OK.
Wow.
Thank the Lord for that.
It looks like I'm getting let off lightly.
People are walking around with them on their faces.
Once the ants and the men are ready, there's another bout of singing and dancing, as we all head into the longhouse for the main event.
I'm allergic to wasp stings and apparently ant venom is made up of a similar substance, so I'm a little nervous about getting a severe reaction.
It's quite a slow torture just sitting in line waiting for you to have your venom delivered.
I've no doubt this is quite painful.
Kakaya, first time.
Ah! I felt that.
Ouch! You can see a slight reaction, very slight.
If I think this is painful, imagine having it there and there and there like some of these guys.
My arm's quite sore still.
It feels like I've still got a couple of hot needles in there.
We're gonna go all through the night and I've been told that the reason we go through the night is another test.
It's another proof of your courage and your manliness, whatever you want to call it, and very much part of this is some of the members here within the community are undergoing ritual shaman training and they must be seen to stay up all night.
Some of the men are obviously in a great deal of pain.
So interesting being here and experiencing all this.
There's so much depth to the culture, it's really proudly shown off here.
I think I'm in for a long night.
In order to stay up all night, the men take snuff, or Ape, a traditional mixture of herbs and tobacco.
The chief, Kakaya, has offered to give me my first taste of the Marubo's sacred stimulant.
This is my first time.
Can you explain what I should do, please? Unfortunately, with my lack of experience, I managed to blow the snuff back into the chief's mouth (COUGHING) A bit of a faux pas in Marubo culture.
Lo siento.
That first one was so strong, it really hit me hard but I think I breathed out most of it back into his mouth.
Poor guy, he's having to cough up loads of snuff in his gob.
I feel a bit bad about that.
It's breakfast time in the maloca.
Each of us brings our own sort of breakfast addition to the eating area.
I'll bring it down and place it in front of myself.
But as soon as it's there, it's for everyone.
Which, in turn, means that I can take something off anyone else's plate.
Let me show you the highlight.
A bit of plantain with this.
It's like a meaty sauce, but it's also got chillies in.
Delicious! Neglecting my duties Because I told the community to treat me as a small child, one of the kids' jobs is to come and get the refills and, believe me, we refill a lot, there's no shortage of food.
All of these pots are for today's meal.
I can't help but compare my experience here with the Marubo to my time with the Matis.
While the Matis are struggling to find their place in the modern world, and have lost so much, the Marubo seem highly motivated and determined to keep their culture alive.
I've been wondering to myself what the secret is for the Marubo's strength in their culture.
They really are proud of it and they're strong and one of the things, maybe, is that they stamp that identity all the time and the way they stay long into the night and all these things, they're quite regimented, actually.
It's quite a routine that they have, and even their haircuts, sitting here next to this guy, it's kind of military almost.
I'm being painted in preparation for another ritual called the Aco ceremony.
There's a strange, almost cult-like feel about this place, centred around the young shaman, Robson, and I wonder if life is like this all the time here or if the camera is making them feel they have to perform.
Today's ceremony in our week of magical events isoff cutting down a tree in order to make a drum for the longhouse.
The best trees for the Aco are across the river, and the men set off for a hard day's work.
They all seem quite happy to let me do the hard work.
In fact, they seem to enjoy watching the gringo sweat.
(WHOOPING) The nextjob is to carve the Aco drum out of the log.
The whole process takes two days until the Aco is finally ready to go.
Now all that's required is taking it back into the village, no doubt with a fair bit of ceremony.
The log must weigh at least a tonne, and it takes all of our combined strength to carry it.
So many people over undulating ground.
Sometimes it's really light, and other times, you feel like you're carrying the whole thing yourself.
I really wasn't expecting the log to be this heavy.
Those few moments when you really took the weight yourself, it was extraordinary, back-breakingly heavy, and we've got that hill to go up now.
The women of the village come out to welcome in the new Aco and to encourage the men in their efforts.
I thought we were being wimps when we kept having to keep putting it down, but now I realise that's all part of it, because we've even got refreshment breaks on our route because they knew in advance it was going to take us this long.
Bizarrely, tickling plays a big part in the Aco Ceremony.
The customs and rituals of the Marubo never fail to surprise, and according to this tradition, the women must tickle their brothers-in-law as they take rests between carrying the massive log.
Last little leg into the longhouse, except, of course, we can't go through the near door.
We've got to use the, er Ooh-ay! The Aco is used primarily as a communication tool to send messages to neighbouring villages.
They use it to announce a death or a birth, a party, orjust a simple hunting trip.
Once it's in place, the men start to hammer out their rhythms on the Aco.
I get the feeling once again that we have a very long night ahead.
There are many superstitions surrounding the drum.
For example, if your wife is pregnant, you can't play, as it's considered bad luck.
The Aco Ceremony wouldn't be complete without the usual singing and dancing session, and all the young men and women take their partners for another all-night party.
It's nice to be popular, but I think I'll try and sit this one out if I get a chance.
As the night draws on, the crew heads for bed.
But as my hammock is now in the longhouse, I keep dancing long into the night.
Once again, Robson and the other shamans start to sing their ancient songs, but one of the young girls reminds me that I'm still in the 2 1st century.
She handed me an earpiece, and in one ear I've got the village shaman, and in the other, I've got Michael Jackson's Thriller.
I can't quite get my head around it.
Unreal.
Get a load of that! Like many people here, the chief's 10-year-old son is suffering from malaria.
The chief sings to him for hours on end to try and rid him of the disease.
Malaria here is considered as an introduced disease, an outsiders' disease, and here we have a father's all-night vigil, using the power of song to try and save the life of his own son.
We've been up all night and I'm about leave.
There's time forjust one last dip.
Finally, after an exhausting five days, I say my goodbyes to Robson.
Thank you so much for looking after me during my short stay.
Thank you.
Whatever I think of the Marubo's intensive methods of maintaining their identity, it's clear that it's working, and their culture is very much alive - and they're happy.
I've now come to the very edge of the indigenous reserve, where the forest is no longer protected.
In this frontier zone, logging is big business and hundreds of chainsaw gangs are busy cutting down the valuable hardwoods for export.
I felt that I couldn't really leave the area until I'd seen a little bit of the other side of the coin, so I'm off to go and live with some loggers to see what life is like from their perspective.
I'm slightly nervous about the next few days.
The people I'm going to see are considered the bad guys, the men who are responsible for bringing diseases into the region and whose job it is to destroy the forest.
(SAW WHIRRING) Oh, this must be the logging camp.
Well hidden.
Raymondo, hey! I'm at the right place, it seems.
That's a relief.
- Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
- Cheers.
Wow, I like your camp.
Thank you.
Most of the loggers are out at work, but a few minutes later, dinner arrives.
Aqui, senor.
Amigo My God.
This is Boto.
He's just got back from a hunting trip, in case you hadn't worked it out for yourself.
Much like the Matis and the Marubo, the loggers spend most of their lives in the forest, and they, too, have developed an extensive knowledge of the animals and plants of the region.
Throughout the afternoon, the camp gradually fills up as more and more loggers appear from the forest after a hard day's work.
Homely feeling around this camp, actually.
I've been made really welcome and there's just lots of laughter.
These guys don't stop giggling.
It's a really friendly, friendly environment.
But, Raymondo, my time here is to allow you to tell the world what you think about yourjob and what you are doing.
Boto and Victor have asked me to come and help them with some work.
It's rainy season in the Amazon and the water is steadily rising.
This the best time to move the cut logs down river, using the swollen stream as a living conveyer belt.
(BRUCE LAUGHS) This is not easy.
Not easy for me, anyway.
Too late, too late, too late.
OK.
(LAUGHTER) If you try too much to go on the ones in the middle and you step slightly off balance, they start spinning, and it's really hard to right that, and unless you've got another one to get onto, if you're like me, you're straight in the water.
The idea is to free up all the logs and keep them moving down to the main river so they can eventually be rafted up, shipped out and sold.
It's really hard work, this.
You have to have a sure footing the whole time and really good balance, but just an hour or so andknackering.
On the menu for tonight is woolly monkey stew.
Food always just tastes so much nicer outdoors, and if you've done a little bit of work, doesn't matter what it is, it just always seems to taste good.
What's your favourite food here in the jungle? That's very kind, but you're good teachersand I enjoyed it.
It was good fun.
Bueno.
Having just watched the experts in action, they're now keen for me to have a go.
OK.
And is it OK to cut from there, or must I cut from the end? - No.
- So like that.
Then, will it? So, I just hold it strong here? OK.
A real case of nerves, actually.
Not only am I understandably fearful of the chainsaw, a kind of healthy respect for it, but also, just a tree falling - I know how unpredictable it can be.
(CHAINSAW CUTS OUT) But just as I'm about to cut down my first tree, the chainsaw grinds to a halt.
(ENGINE SPUTTERS) Can you get the spark plug out and have a look? Kaput.
They've been playing this for a while, but it's not working, and this is their only chainsaw.
So, this tree has had a lucky escape and so, in many ways, have I.
But even without a chainsaw, the work must go on.
One of the hardest jobs is to get the logs from where they've been felled down to the river.
Using manpower alone, we have to clear a wide path through the forest and wrestle the logs to the stream.
The interesting thing about this, this isn't big logging at all.
This is not industrial clear felling.
This is what they call selective logging.
But there's still a question over how sustainable this form of logging is.
For every one tree you cut down, you lose several more trying to extract the logs.
No matter how much I love these guys, and I do - they are the nicest people that I've met on my journey for a long time, I'm really enjoying their company - seeing this industry shows to me really what's going on.
Yah! Yah.
Here we go.
It's hard work, hard work.
Just one little length, just a short distance.
Victor, this log that we have just rolled in here, how much will you sell that for in town? How much is that worth? For all this effort and hard work, the men get just £ 12 a metre for their timber - roughly £50 a log, which has to be split between the whole crew.
Despite everyone's efforts, the chainsaw is still refusing to work this morning, so it's back on the river to take advantage of the recent rain to keep moving all the logs further downstream.
Much harder today because we've got to get all of these out somehow.
Steer it, and watch you don't get crushed from behind.
Come on! Trying to turn that end by this little lever, here.
Once you've got the direction right, you can have a little rest.
(SIGHS) Just as I'm about to leave, something clicks.
At last, I'm getting the hang of it.
Now, this is the best bit, cos finally, having brought all of these logs from the forest into the creek, we're now in the river where it's big enough that we can raft them up and from here, it's a bit more steady, and it's plain sailing all the way down.
But, sadly, it's time to go.
I have to return to the main river and continue my journey downstream.
- OK.
- OK.
Victor, muchos obrigado.
Obrigado.
You've been a good man, and thank you for teaching me so much.
- Obrigado.
OK.
- Obrigado.
OK, my friend.
Hey, obrigado! (CHEERING) During my time in Javari, I've seen many perspectives of life in the forest.
The loggers are not the demons I once thought, but ordinary men living out the only life they know to satisfy our demand for hardwood.
The Marubo are keeping their culture alive through their regime of rituals, and the Matis are still struggling for their very survival as they grapple with the outside world.
I hope the uncontacted tribes can keep the chainsaws and diseases at bay and continue to live in isolation as long as THEYchoose to.
On the next leg of my journey, I travel into the heart of the Brazilian Amazon, where I get to grips with the natural world.
This is fishing! And I find a ray of hope in the struggle to save the Amazon.