As our boat nudged down the Tapajós river, the hypnotic sameness of the Amazon was shattered by the splash of small bodies.
A half-dozen children from the local Munduruku tribe had been dangling from trees along the river’s shore. Seeing us approach, they jumped into the dark water, clambered aboard our boat, and began examining whatever caught their eye: a baseball hat, a notebook, a tube of sunblock.
Their curiosity sated, they dove back into the river without a word.
The message was clear: This is their home. This is their land.