Sunday, July 17, was eventful near the eastern entrance to the Xingu Indigenous Land, an area of the Kisêdjê people, near Querência (MT). Early in the morning it was already possible to hear the noise of the machines operating in the woods next to the reserve. In the afternoon, the concern was the fire. He had been advancing for three days, giving the brigadistas trouble, and the smoke had thickened.
The images of deforestation and fire were captured by the drone of Kamikia Kisêdjê, 38, an indigenous photographer and filmmaker whose cameras monitor the perimeters. Two years ago, land bordering a grain farm began to be illegally deforested. Kamikia’s photos and videos became evidence for the authorities to be called. The risk returned, and so did his reaction.
The Indigenous Land in the Xingu is not connected to the national electricity system. Much of the supply depends on diesel generators, which operate only a few hours at night. An action with a drone, like this, is only possible thanks to an additional component, the supply of solar energy.
Currently, all 120 villages in the indigenous territory have some photovoltaic generation system, with plates and batteries, which guarantees supply during the day and most of the night, especially in the dry winter months in the Midwest.
At least 108 communities have systems in collective areas. In the others, it is possible to find private plaques, implanted by the families themselves.
The equipment is usually more robust in the so-called poles, the community spaces where the school and health center are located.
Kamikia’s studio is located in one of these poles, Wawi, in the land of the Kisêdjê people. He says he was one of the first indigenous people to use a drone because he had infrastructure. “I use solar energy for everything. To charge my cell phone, batteries, the computers that do the image editing. I even have a portable solar charger”, he says.
Around the world, solar energy is now seen as a clean and cheap alternative in the energy transition, to reduce dependence on fossil fuels. In Brazil, this source became profitable and grew by 40% in the first half of this year.
In the Xingu Indigenous Land, however, in addition to being an ally in preserving the environment, it is seen as a way of maintaining their ancestral culture.
“About ten years ago, we started to participate in debates on climate change and we discovered that our way of living contributes a lot to the balance of the environment and climate. For us, the use of energy is understood in this context”, says Ianukula Kaiabi Suiá, 44, president of Atix (Associação Terra Indígena do Xingu).
Ianukula explains that the hydroelectric power is clean, but it brings a contradiction to the indigenous people: the works lead to the deforestation of large areas. The lost battle against the Belo Monte dam on the Xingu River is still present in the memory of the region’s residents.
Joining the national energy system would also mean allowing the installation of transmission lines on indigenous lands, opening a flank for invaders. “We want energy in the villages, but not just any energy,” he says.
In recent years, communities have experienced changes driven by the desire to use the energy of the sun. The catalyst, he says, was the Covid pandemic.
With the villages closed, the exchange of information, the purchase of supplies and even the assemblies of indigenous leaders were transferred to digital platforms, which required the expansion of the internet.
“Until 2020, few places had internet, but during the isolation of Covid, communities organized to expand, and many people even installed private internet. Today, you can find it practically everywhere”, says Ianukula. “As the internet needs permanent power, interest in solar systems has grown along with it, as there is no way to keep a diesel generator running all day.”
In its wake, the cell phone became popular in the villages, especially among young people. It is commonplace to find them gathered around places where there is internet signal, immersed in the small screens.
According to Mbepkonoro Kisêdjê, 15, they talk to friends and relatives in other villages or to white people they made friends with on social media. On Instagram, Mbepkonoro usually posts photos wearing kisêdjê clothing.
Personal investment to secure solar energy, however, is not low.
In Ngosoko village, teacher Amto Suyá, 34, and his wife, Kamihukalu Kamayura, 31, paid R$9,000 to have a domestic system. It allows regular use of internet, TV, freezer, cassava grater and a washing machine with washbasin type.
With the network, Kamihukalu, whom everyone calls Rita, uses Instagram to sell the necklaces and bracelets she produces.
Clean energy mobilizes communities and NGOs
There are also collective initiatives to implement mini solar plants, a phenomenon more common in smaller villages.
It was like that in Samaúma, a Kaiabi village. The community works with weaving bags and collecting seeds for reforestation. About BRL 32,000 of the revenue from these activities was shared and invested in the installation of a photovoltaic system for all 60 residents.
With the internet, local products were also sold by Pix.
The organization also guaranteed energy to small Piyulewene, a village of the Waurá people, where women are the majority.
The use of the gasoline generator had become a sacrifice. Repairs and fuel costs drained the savings.
To have the solar system with the power they wanted, it was necessary to save R$ 23 thousand over six years. A good part of the money came from the sale of handmade, hand-painted clay pots.
“To have everything we want, we still need to save money to buy four more plates”, says Yakuwipu Waurá, 35. One of the ambitions is to have an electric lathe for the production of handicrafts.
NGOs were instrumental in bringing clean energy to the Xingu. The first experiments were carried out in the 1990s by Unifesp (Federal University of São Paulo), but the installation scaled more recently with ISA (Instituto Socioambiental).
“In 2009, it was already clear that it was necessary to have a more stable, clean energy source and we tested different options, such as biomass, vegetable oils from palm trees, small water turbines”, recalls Marcelo Martins, who coordinated the work of electrification of the Xingu by ISA.
“The best performer was solar, and we opted for installations at a slow pace, as resources became available.”
The process gained speed in 2015, when the American foundation Charles Stewart Mott donated US$ 1 million (about R$ 5 million). Named Xingu Solar, the project financed complete systems, with boards, converters and batteries. The implementation included the training of indigenous people to work in the maintenance of the equipment.
One of the graduates of the program was Towayanin Kaiabi, 43, the Old Man, who currently takes care of the systems of 49 communities in Baixo Xingu. It monitors inverters, washes plates, changes rifles and wiring.
As there was no money to supply all the homes, the project was based on providing energy to health clinics, schools and community centers with the occasional support of fossil fuel generators.
At the beginning of the project, there were 70 villages and all would be served. As the number grew and today it reaches 120, the initiative managed to reach 108.
“Health center is always a priority, because it is necessary to guarantee refrigeration for medicines, nebulizer for children and assistance at any time”, says Martins.
The largest system was installed in Diauarum, one of the most traditional centers, which serves 39 villages. Its immense mango trees, residents say, were planted by the Villas-Bôas brothers, indigenists who worked for the demarcation of the Xingu Park in 1961.
At the height of the pandemic, Diauarum became a regional medical center and its solar system operated 24 hours a day for months. Batteries have collapsed. The exchange demands at least R$ 50,000, a resource that does not exist at the moment. “We knew that this would come at a cost up front, but many lives were saved,” says Kurapy Kaiabi, 40, a local Atix representative.
Since the beginning of the year, the diesel generator has also stopped. It takes R$ 32 thousand for the repair. Now, the medicines at the post are preserved with ice.
At night, only private home systems operate at the pole today. Kurapy’s family has one of them. His wife, Tekaty Kaiabi, 39, for example, likes to use her evening hours to weave hammocks. “It’s quieter at night,” she says.
For the couple Tximari Kayabi, 33, and Eliane Lemos Santos, 34, who also installed their system, the prolonged supply of energy benefited the small businesses they maintain at home. “We even bring frozen chicken, but this one works well, it doesn’t even last long in the freezer”, says Eliane.
The series of reports Energia na Amazônia was produced with the support of Rede Energia e Comunidades.
