This abandoned timber, which is now slowly decomposing into a nutrient for the land in which it grew, is the tragic evidence of depredation. A long trailer carrying a load of imposing trunks running along the territory’s border track, probably taking its felled treasure to the international markets, reminds us that the threat is not a virtual one.

The Maró indigenous people are keen on showing us a wasteland where an old logging company abandoned unusable machinery and other debris from their predatory activity in the territory. To them, this dump is a wound, an execrable trace that they want to erase, what amounts to a desecration according to their sacred conception of the forest.

The conflict becomes explicit through a real estate property dispute: a building that once belonged to a logger but, after the territory’s demarcation, is now located in indigenous land and belongs by law to the Maró.

Notwithstanding this, the former owner insists on marking his power and has been hiring guards to inhabit the house and confront the natives, who wish to give that property a community use.

Since the demarcation process was resumed in 2016, the building remained uninhabited. But recently, some threatening graffiti have appeared on a side wall. One of them reads: "Indian burglars, go to hell". “Bonsonaro” (spelling error included) reads another. Summoning Bolsonaro is a premonition that the worst is yet to come, a bad omen.

The surprise this time was that we found the house closed and guarded inside by two dogs. When the vigilantes managed to unlock the door and finally get into the house, they found fresh food around and obvious signs that the house was again occupied. It was cvlear that the alleged owner had returned to a policy of confrontation.

Helped by a group of young indigenous activists who were part of our expedition, and led by Ednei, who is also a member of that group, the vigilantes decided to paint two banners with a very clear message. "This is indigenous territory", said the first. "MARÓ"(in capital letters), said the second.

They took their time painting the banners. They spent quite a lot of time decorating them with indigenous graphics to show their willingness to reaffirm the ownership of the territory and everything in it. And to do so with dignity and pride. Ednei personally oversaw the job to its very last details, particularly the combining of red and blue in the geometric decorative bands, a sign of indigenous identity.

At the precise moment in which they posed for the picture, happily and proudly showing the two colorful banners before hanging them up, a very humble-looking young indigenous woman appeared on the road, carrying a macaque on her head and a little pig by her side that seemed straight out George Orwell's farm.

After some confusion, Dadá spoke to her, with a mixture of authority and solemnity as corresponds to his status as cacique. Dadá explained that the protest action was not against her, but against those who had sent her to occupy the house.

He demanded that she tell the logger that he wanted to talk to him, and that he would be waiting for him on the following Friday to explain to him personally that he has no right to this property, which is in Maró land, and that the community does not intend to give in to his acts of intimidation. After that, the young Indian woman was allowed to get into the house with her monkey and the piglet.