El Pantanal - The Chamacoco
Since the morning the sun threatens in its ascent. We make boat tours by the surroundings avoiding the hottest hours when the best thing is a paraguayan siesta. In the way toward the Black River we visit the Chamacoco village.
The chamacoco shaman, from Paraguay, sings to the stars, to the spiders and to crazy Totila, that wanders through the forests and cries. And sings that the kingfisher tells her:
Get on on my wings and we will eat river fish and drink wind.
And sings what the mist tells her:
And sings what the sky horses tell her:
The shaman can no longer cure the bites of vipers, neither to bring the rain in times of drought, neither to fly over the earth to sing what he sees.
Stripped of their freedom and of their goods, of their symbols of identity. They are forbidden to sing and to dance and to dream of their gods; now the illusion is that some of the scarce travelers arrive and buy their necklaces and wooden figures.


