Seja bem-vindo de novo, cara. Or ''welcome back again, man.'' Coming off of a massive Halloween extravaganza here. For the record made my own pumpkin pie which made the whole holiday for me! (Parents: 1 point) Just getting over a bout with the fated "Brazzo stomach" homeopathy has shored me up nicely (Parents: pulling ahead with 2 points!).

Past ten days made up an educational excursion to the south of Pará state. Belém is the capital of Pará, the second biggest state in the country next to Amazonas, its neighbor. The reigon first struck me as a modern Brazilian version of Clint Eastwood's wild west. Paraupebas, a hyper developed city founded by road builders, is said to have 1 murder a week over land disputes or other issues. The main theme of our experience there was the struggle for land by different groups of workers.

First we met Maria de Jesus, who was the first female leader of a workers movement in Brazil. By her inspiration, Im now keeping a tally of the days Im alive and making a list of why that makes me happy. She rattled of a long list of her time at the front of the battle against corruption, and the some 14 attempts on her life by assasins. Let alone her own husband (the mayor of Marabá) via rat poison. Ah, the ties that bind.
Most of the corruption can be owed to the PIN, or plan of national intergration, when the Military government that reigned from 65-88 urged a massive settlement of the Amazon region. They built two main highways from Belém to the capital of Brasília, and one that girdled the Amazonia region itself. They ushered in a huge population boom that was also lured by free land. The philosophy ''land without people to people without land". The military indeed engaged a intense army of resource exploiters to fly in and increase that gross national product.

Problems obviously arise when land is given away, especially when wealthy fazendos and corporations with the means for legal aid claim the lion's share. The popular method of income generation became cattle ranching. The farmers would sustain themselves with small-scale agriculture and raise cattle. The general rule of thumb here is 1 hectare (about 5 acres) for 1 head of cattle. Any more and the the land begins to degrade, and the cattle won't sustain. We visited a former site of a fazendo on 18,000 hectares.

Occasionally, famers would attempt to cheat the complicated Brazilian land ownership system, falsifying documents. The documents were put in tubes with gafanhotos or crickets, that died and created a chemical reaction giving the paper an older coloration. Now the lands are pounced upon by the Movimento dos Sem Terras or Landless Workers Movement. They made up the bulk of our experience there.

The MST formed in '84, a particularly turbulent time in Brazil when the academics and social progressives and the Catholic church were working together to un-seat the Military Government. It was a time of many ''disappearances'' here when the intelligencia or pastorals urging for social change would just drop off the map never to be seen again, a trend that is disturbingly popular in Latin America. The movement had a fight in front of it to say the least.
This would inclue the El Dorado do Carajás massacre where 19 MST protesters were killed by the police.

The interaction is still violent, just around the time I was visiting there, there was word from the media that a fazendero was vandalized by MST members. The media , however, should be taken with a grain of salt. My opinion upon arriving in the settlement of Palmares II, however, was given a good shot of reality. None of us students believed that we had arrived in the right place, the community seemed so developed with stores all around the praça and a bustle of commercial and social activity plainly in view. But when we saw the MST bandiera on the massive school in the center of town, it begain to sink in. After all, these members were granted their government plots of land some 15 years ago. I was also expecting different living conditions, I stayed within easy walking distance from town. The first thing that was visible upon entering the house was a case of beauty products for sale, and the everpresent glare of the TV.

Most of my time spent there was talking with the family (extended, and all over the place). They were extremely outspoken about social and environmental issues, and for the most part, extremely well educated. My host-mom of 50 years had decided to take a course at the school in Paraupebas, the large neighboring city. I had a great time with my brother there Edinedison, and my sister Heyde, 20 and 23. We went to the cachoeira or waterfall to swim, we rode on the dirtbikes exclusively (4 people to a bike), hunted in the jungle at night, and told jokes.

Sidenote: the Brazilian sense of humor is still COMPLETELY lost on me.

The last night was culture night, led by an impossibly eloquent thirteen year old, the son of the community leader. Really cool presentation about MST culture and their struggle. Also a giant snake that we got to pet. And I had to dance a tradition Brazilian dance in front of the whole crowd. Not my best showing, I might say. Very sad departure, staying in contact, and hope someday to go back.

After this we left for a one day trip in the Floresta Nacional do Carajás. This unassuming one day trip in a tourist van turned out to be more intense than we bargained for. It started very unassumingly of course, we just stopped to see the largest manmade hole on the planet. It is part of the former government owned mineral extraction company Vale do Rio Doce. The mine there is for iron, which is found in those parts at a remarkable purity, somewhere between 70 and 90%. After this massive crater, our next objective was to travel about 40 kilometers through the park to see another prospective site for a mine.

The road meandered around through the dense forest, which is protected as a reserve by the government. At a point the going became very rocky, and our van, made for comfort, became extremely unwieldy. Every time we smelled burning rubber, it was time to get out or relocate our weight over the wheels so the van could make it up. More than one time, I sprinted out into the forest to find a suitable piece of timber or rock to wedge under a wheel. Then we noticed the leak coming from the under-chassis. The drivers however, were determined. Then the rain came.

Even major highways are subject to annual renovation due to the 6 month rainy season in the Amazon. This small track stood no chance. And the rain came. The van would sink ass-deep into the mud at any difficult crossing, after which my Brazilian colleague Alana and I would dart out to wedge boards under the wheels. When this wasn't enough, or when the wheels were catching fire, we would tie a cord from a small truck in front of us to our front axle with bowline knot of course(thanks dad! parents: 3 points). Eventually the van refused to mount any more hills and we retired to foot. That 40 kilometers had turned into about 5 hours working and pushing and being generally drenched and soaked in mud.

The return proved almost as trying, but it tried instead the mettle. The small truck that could make the trip held about 5 people, and we were 15. So this neccessitated 3 20km trips back and forth. The first began around 6:00, with the sun just beginning to redden on the sill of the horizon. Four friends and I, Caroline, Nick, Mady Jake and James were the last group to be portered back to the van. We were backtracking by foot down the small road through the middle of the forest. And the sun was seriously setting. Trying to spot some wildlife, and not wanting to be part of the loud group, I decided to drop back from the pack, hoping that the critters would go along their way when the mob cleared.

Twilight in the Amazon, when every hungry belly starts thinking: food. The forest comes alive at this time when all the bugs take wing, sending a big rattle through the whole food chain. Probably the most frightened I've been in a forest ever. The twilight gave way to complete dark, still no sign of a truck. Last time I was in the forest at dark, I had a shotgun. Now I'm 100m, from the group, in the middle of dinner time. Made me think twice that the region was famous for a proliferation of onças, jaguars. I did spot a few as well, in the form of eyes shining like embers. Just eyes. I'll always remember this experience, the sounds of the howler monkeys and paca and birds and tapir. The way a eerie quiet in the noise usually corresponds to a crashing of sticks breaking from the same area. The force of nature on either side, and me in the road through the middle. Awe inspiring life in stereo.

Made it out alive, I'm happy to say. Tired and feverish, with more strange viruses in the stomach than ever, but alive. Gives me a new appreciation for our food.

Well gente. Tomorrow I'm starting my research project at IPA permaculture institute in Manaus, Amazonas state. I'll let you know more on that when I get there.

-F