Forest ruins
Ray Para Poty, an indigenous warrior, is blessed by a Guarani shaman before facing the São Paulo Military Police in a possible confrontation to protect the Jaraguá territory from the construction of dozens of multi-story residential buildings. *This image and its reproduction were made with the informed consent of the person photographed, their family, and the Guarani-mbyá community.
A forest fire strikes the Guarani Indigenous Land at Pico do Jaraguá. Three years after a historic fire in 2020, the Guarani fire fighting brigade, dressed in yellow suits, responds swiftly to contain the outbreaks. These fires are becoming increasingly frequent, fueled by rising temperatures from global warming, threatening all nine villages around the peak.
A Guarani child swims in a river near his village, a place where his parents and grandparents once swam. This vital water source is now being diverted into pipes as São Paulo’s urban expansion and real estate development encroach on their territory.
Rafael Kaje is an LGBT artist and TikToker with thousands of followers from the Pyau village. On his social media, he shares content that highlights daily life in the Guarani community and explores the impact of urban sprawl on his culture, challenging stereotypes and misconceptions about his people and way of life.
The Guarani community occupies the 10-lane Bandeirantes Highway in protest against a legislative bill that could strip them of their lands at Jaraguá Peak. This key road, which cuts through their territory, is one of the largest in the country. The demonstration disrupts traffic and draws national attention.
Thiago Karaí Kekupe, a young Guarani Mbya chief, battles a fire near Itakupe village alongside his companions. During this historic blaze of unknown origin, which consumes nearly 18 hectares of forest, the Guaranis work tirelessly for hours, despite lacking technical training or proper equipment.
Manuela Vidal, 6, resident of the Itakupé village in São Paulo, surveys the aftermath of a devastating fire that swept through Guarani land.
Anderson Vilar Martim, 35, a Guarani warrior, raises a flag made from discarded plastic at the summit of the Jaraguá Peak, São Paulo’s highest geographical point. Joined by hundreds of Indigenous people from nearby villages in the Jaraguá Indigenous Territory, the protest aims to disrupt telephone and television signals, highlighting the increasing legislative threat to their territorial rights.
A group of young Guarani from the Pyau Village plays soccer during the social isolation of the pandemic. At the top, the Bandeirantes Highway—named after Portuguese colonizers and their descendants in São Paulo—cuts through the landscape. Built in the 2000s, the highway fragmented their territory and created a biological barrier that disrupts the movement of wildlife species
Guarani Mbya children play at Pyau village in São Paulo. The Guarani school in Jaraguá is bicultural, offering a curriculum that blends ancestral Indigenous knowledge with Western culture.
A disoriented sloth is rescued by a group of Guarani Mbya Indigenous people as it tries to cross the Bandeirantes Highway at the edge of the Jaraguá Indigenous Land. This was the second sloth rescued in a similar situation in less than a month at Pindomirim village.
A tree burned by a forest fire on the Jaraguá Indigenous Land, near the Itakupe village. Guarani leaders suspect the fires may have been deliberately set to promote urban sprawl.
A Guarani child bathes in a polluted river near the Pyau village on the Jaraguá Indigenous Land.
A Guarani house stands amidst a eucalyptus plantation in the Guyra Pepó Village, situated in the countryside. São Paulo State establishes the Guyra Pepó Village as compensation for the Guarani community of Jaraguá Peak, 20 years after a road divides their territory in the 2000s.
Emilia Kaxuka, 110, and her husband spend the afternoon outside their home in Itakupe village. Emilia is the oldest Guarani elder in the community. During the pandemic, she sought refuge in a more remote part of the Guarani Mbyá territory in Jaraguá, distancing herself from the encroaching urban sprawl and the threat of contagion. For Emilia, her health and longevity are attributed to maintaining the traditional Guarani diet, based on ancestral foods planted in the Jaragua Territory, such as Avaxi (corn), Jety (sweet potato), Jejy (hearts of palm), Manjio (cassava), and Manduvi (peanuts).
Neusa Quadros, 35, the leader of Pindomirim village, poses for a portrait while smoking her Petyngua pipe inside the prayer house.
The funeral of 15-year-old Guarani Brayan Ribeiro da Silva, who was allegedly struck by a vehicle on the Bandeirantes Highway, which cuts through the Jaraguá Indigenous Land in São Paulo.
Remnants of a bonfire are found inside the Guarani prayer house in the Pyau village.
Maysa Kerexu Aquiles Benites, 15, is in labor at the prayer house in Pindomirim village, São Paulo. The birth cannot occur according to Guarani tradition there, so she is taken to the nearest hospital. On the way, her child is born on the Anhanguera Highway. Anhanguera, another road that cuts through their territory, is named “The Devil’s Path” in Guarani, as it was once used by colonizers and Bandeirantes to hunt and enslave Indigenous people.
The city of São Paulo is engulfed in smoke from the burning of the Amazon and Pantanal forests during the winter, creating a hazy atmosphere with an orange sun that, for weeks, obscures the sky in the megacity. During the fires, São Paulo ranked as the large city with the worst air quality worldwide for five consecutive days, according to IQAir.
The Guaraní Mbyá indigenous community preserves its spirituality in Brazil’s smallest indigenous territory, nestled in the heart of the largest megalopolis in the Americas.
In 1500, during the Portuguese invasion, the Guaraní people inhabited a vast territory stretching from the Brazilian coast to the Río de la Plata in Argentina and Uruguay. Their lands were made up of hundreds of prosperous villages, skilled in agriculture and livestock farming. Uprooted, enslaved, and catechized, thousands of them were forced to work on the plantations of São Paulo until the mid-19th century, contributing to the rise of the colony and the city as a global center.
Today, under pressure from urban expansion, this community embodies a microcosm of the global climate crisis. Surrounded by 22 million people, they are the guardians of one of the last remnants of tropical forest on the plateau that gave rise to the megalopolis.
They protect Jaraguá Peak, the highest point in the city, with almost 400 hectares of biodiversity. However, their officially recognized territory is only 1.8 hectares. Despite relentless challenges, they maintain a deep connection to the land and stand as a form of resistance against the Western drive for development and environmental degradation. Indigenous lands in Brazil have lost only 1% of their native vegetation in 30 years, compared to 20.6% in private areas.
As a young and growing community, they have embraced technology, strengthening their cultural presence with a powerful voice on social media. Despite the temptations of urban life, their sacred and daily practice remains smoking the Petynguá pipe, made from the araucaria tree, which once abounded in the region and is now endangered. Smoke is a sacred language for the Guaraní, connecting the past, present, and future, and offering them a channel through which to communicate with their deities.
At the crossroads between the jungle and the asphalt, where clean air collides with urban pollution, forest fires, and industrial smoke, their existence is both a spiritual struggle and a call to radically rethink urban life, a model that fractures collective existence and separates humanity from the Earth.
