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How Brazil’s World Cup has sold its people short in the Amazon How Brazil’s World Cup has sold its people short in the Amazon
(about 4 hours later)
An hour’s rickety drive north west out of Manaus, along the banks of the Rio Negro and into the jungle, feels like a long way from the corporate glitz of Fifa. The roads are so bumpy that drivers have to steer up onto the muddy banks to avoid pot holes, and bugs almost as big as your fist feast on dogs sleeping under trees, too hot to brush them off. But it is up here that you find the angry nub of so much of the controversy surrounding Brazil’s World Cup. An hour’s rickety drive north-west out of Manaus, along the banks of the Rio Negro and into the jungle, feels like a long way from the corporate glitz of Fifa. The roads are so bumpy that drivers have to steer up on to the muddy banks to avoid potholes, and bugs almost as big as your fist feast on dogs sleeping under trees, too hot to brush them off. But it is up here that you find the angry nub of so much of the controversy surrounding Brazil’s World Cup.
Down a small slip path off what could, at a push, be described as a main road, a man sporting green shorts, a magnificent feathered headdress, body paint made from berry juice on his arms and cheeks, and a big smile across his face greets the occasional visitor to his home. Awyató – or “Jaguar” - is the chief of this outpost of the Sateré-Mawé tribe, and he lives on a compound with his wife, their four children and 12 other families. They share their land with chickens, goats, dogs and a very friendly pig who makes a point of nosing all guests with her curious snout. Down a small slip path off what could, at a push, be described as a main road, a man sporting green shorts, a magnificent feathered headdress, body paint made from berry juice on his arms and cheeks, and a big smile across his face greets the occasional visitor to his home. Awyató – or “Jaguar” – is the chief of this outpost of the Sateré-Mawé tribe, and he lives on a compound with his wife, their four children and 12 other families. They share their land with chickens, goats, dogs and a very friendly pig who makes a point of nosing all guests with her curious snout.
The Sateré-Mawé tribe comes from south of the Amazon in the jungle, but 40 years ago a small group of them set up a small base here, closer to Manaus, in order, Awyató says, “to learn from the white civilisation about education and health.” Another draw was to help fight against the prejudice that indigenous people still suffer from in Brazil, and the Sateré-Mawé felt that one way to do this was through football. The Sateré-Mawé tribe comes from south of the Amazon in the jungle, but 40 years ago a small group of them set up a small base here, closer to Manaus, in order, Awyató says, “to learn from the white civilisation about education and health”. Another draw was to help fight against the prejudice that indigenous people still suffer from in Brazil, and the Sateré-Mawé felt that one way to do this was through football.
The Sateré-Mawé people, Awyato says, are “the biggest football fans among all the tribes” in the region, and they have men’s teams and women’s teams who they encourage to play in local tournaments in Manaus. Awyató in particular loves to play, and drinks guarana juice, made by his wife in a small stone bowl, before every game to give him energy. Their home is primitive, but they have some modern conveniences: a mobile for Awyató, a video camera for the family, and they watch TV occasionally if they go into town. All in all, things were going well, until the World Cup came along. The Sateré-Mawé people, Awyato says, are “the biggest football fans among all the tribes” in the region, and they have men’s teams and women’s teams who they encourage to play in local tournaments in Manaus. Awyató in particular loves to play, and drinks guarana juice, made by his wife in a small stone bowl, before every game to give him energy. Their home is primitive, but they have some modern conveniences: a mobile for Awyató, a video camera for the family, and they watch TV occasionally if they go into town. All in all, things were going well. Until the World Cup came along.
Of all the 12 stadiums hosting Brazil’s World Cup, Arena Amazônia in Manaus has been by far the most controversial. Even aside from the much-discussed inclement weather in the region – with levels of 80% humidity in June – the logistics of building a stadium on an urban island in the rainforest required planning that would have deterred Fitzcarraldo. Instead of dragging a steamer over a mountain, tonnes of stainless steel were shipped across the Atlantic from Portugal and down Amazonian tributaries. By the time the stadium was built, $300m had been spent and three construction workers had died, for a stadium where only four World Cup games will be held. Underlining the extravagance of the project, a stadium had, in fact, already existed in Manaus, but it was torn down in order to meet Fifa’s regulations. While there are plans for the new stadium to be used for games after the World Cup, football matches up in remote Manaus only attract, at most, 1,000 people. Arena Amazônia accommodates 42,000. Some have described it as the ultimate “white elephant.” HBO’s John Oliver, somewhat more evocatively, opted for “the world’s most expensive bird toilet.” Supporters of the stadium say it will bring attention to a remote town, but attention doesn’t necessarily fill stadiums, let alone bring money, to a remote place like Manaus. When Arena Amazônia’s pitch was looking decidedly parched days before its first game, England against Italy on Saturday, and it was alleged this was caused by an excessive use of fertiliser, this seemed like an unfortunate metaphor for the whole project. Of all the 12 stadiums hosting Brazil’s World Cup, Arena Amazônia in Manaus has been by far the most controversial. Even aside from the much-discussed inclement weather in the region – with levels of 80% humidity in June – the logistics of building a stadium on an urban island in the rainforest required planning that would have deterred Fitzcarraldo. Instead of dragging a steamer over a mountain, tonnes of stainless steel were shipped across the Atlantic from Portugal and down Amazonian tributaries. By the time the stadium was built, $300m had been spent and three construction workers had died, for a stadium where only four World Cup games will be held. Underlining the extravagance of the project, a stadium had, in fact, already existed in Manaus, but it was torn down in order to meet Fifa’s regulations.
And then there’s Manaus itself. The city is certainly not a one pony town, but there are other things there which cry out for money a little louder than a new stadium. Although it tries to sell itself as an eco-luxury destination for travellers en route to the Amazon, the truth is it’s glory days as “the Paris of the Tropics” in the late 19th century are long gone. Well over twice the national average of Manaus’ inhabitants live in slums and one in four houses doesn’t have access to running water. What they have instead is one big ass stadium in their city. While there are plans for the new stadium to be used for games after the World Cup, football matches up in remote Manaus only attract, at most, 1,000 people. Arena Amazônia accommodates 42,000. Some have described it as the ultimate “white elephant”. HBO’s John Oliver, somewhat more evocatively, opted for “the world’s most expensive bird toilet”. Supporters of the stadium say it will bring attention to a remote town, but attention doesn’t necessarily fill stadiums, let alone bring money, to a remote place like Manaus. When Arena Amazônia’s pitch was looking decidedly parched days before its first game, England against Italy on Saturday, and it was alleged this was caused by an excessive use of fertiliser, this seemed like an unfortunate metaphor for the whole project.
And then there’s Manaus itself. The city is certainly not a one-pony town, but there are other things there which cry out for money a little louder than a new stadium. Although it tries to sell itself as an eco-luxury destination for travellers en route to the Amazon, the truth is its glory days as “the Paris of the Tropics” in the late 19th century are long gone. Well over twice the national average of Manaus’s inhabitants live in slums and one in four houses doesn’t have access to running water. What they have instead is one big-ass stadium in their city.
Awyató and his family are lucky. They are healthy and largely self-sufficient, making what little money they need by selling handicrafts in town and holding occasional events at the compound for tourists. But life is not easy. A close relative recently died because they didn’t have enough money to buy petrol to take them to the nearest doctor, who is miles away, and much of Awyató’s time is spent trying to educate his children “properly.” He is “proud” that Brazil has the World Cup but less pleased with how Brazil has handled it:Awyató and his family are lucky. They are healthy and largely self-sufficient, making what little money they need by selling handicrafts in town and holding occasional events at the compound for tourists. But life is not easy. A close relative recently died because they didn’t have enough money to buy petrol to take them to the nearest doctor, who is miles away, and much of Awyató’s time is spent trying to educate his children “properly.” He is “proud” that Brazil has the World Cup but less pleased with how Brazil has handled it:
“For the indigenous communities and favela dwellers, it’s hard to see so much money spent on the stadiums when there is such hunger and poor health, and that money didn’t need to be spent,” he says. But that is only part of his objection.“For the indigenous communities and favela dwellers, it’s hard to see so much money spent on the stadiums when there is such hunger and poor health, and that money didn’t need to be spent,” he says. But that is only part of his objection.
Arena Amazônia’s elegant, interweaving design is based on an indigenous basket, and patterns based on ones used by local indigenous tribes wind through the venue, including the snakeskin pattern painted on Awyató’s arms. And yet, Awyató says, the tribes have not been invited to the stadium itself: Arena Amazônia’s elegant, interweaving design is based on an indigenous basket, and patterns based on ones used by local indigenous tribes wind through the venue, including the snakeskin pattern painted on Awyató’s arms. And yet, Awyató says, the tribes have not been invited to the stadium itself.
“I feel like Fifa and Brazil have robbed our culture – all of us tribes people feel that way. If they wanted to use our imagery, they should have included us. They know we love football, and they’ve insulted us. I blame the government more than Fifa because they’re Brazilian and so should have been watching out for us. Instead, they have turned their backs on their own people.”“I feel like Fifa and Brazil have robbed our culture – all of us tribes people feel that way. If they wanted to use our imagery, they should have included us. They know we love football, and they’ve insulted us. I blame the government more than Fifa because they’re Brazilian and so should have been watching out for us. Instead, they have turned their backs on their own people.”
Awyató has loved football all his life. He doesn’t really support a particular team, but he loves following star players, like ones from the teams in São Paulo, Rio and – almost inevitably – Manchester United. But now that he will have some of the best players in the world playing, for the first time ever, relatively close to his home, he won’t be following the World Cup.Awyató has loved football all his life. He doesn’t really support a particular team, but he loves following star players, like ones from the teams in São Paulo, Rio and – almost inevitably – Manchester United. But now that he will have some of the best players in the world playing, for the first time ever, relatively close to his home, he won’t be following the World Cup.
“We respect the government’s laws, but they don’t respect us. Our ancestors owned all this land up here in the first place. How much would it have cost them to respect us and include us? Nothing.”“We respect the government’s laws, but they don’t respect us. Our ancestors owned all this land up here in the first place. How much would it have cost them to respect us and include us? Nothing.”