Selfies from the Brink

By Markus_Hediger

My Father's Archives #21

It was in the beginning of the 1990's. My parents were visiting a village of the Kayapós, and a Cessna on a routine flight had brought medicine and some other provisions. When the plane took off again, three men from the tribe who wanted to spend some days in the city, were on board. 
As was their habit, after the estmated time of arrival, the tribe's chief radioed to São Felix do Xingú to confirm the arrival of the airplane. No one answered. The chief waited a little bit more, radioed again and somebody on the other end told him that the plane hadn't arrived yet. The chief began to get nervous. When night fell, and the plane's arrivel hadn't been confirmed, it became obvious that something had happened. Infuriated, the chief sent for my parents, had them locked up and sent some of his men into the jungle to look for the airplane.

The Kayapó-Indians are a tribe of warriors. When one of their's is killed, they must kill one of those the killer belongs to. And since they considered that the airplane belonged to my parents' organization, taking their lives would have settled the matter.

All the while, my parents organization and federal authorities tried to negotiate with the chief via radio. They were almost coming to an agreement, when, after six or seven days, the men returned from the jungle with the already decomposing bodies of their tribesmen. The plane had been surprised by severe wheather and had crashed in the dense vegetation of the Amazon. 

When the bodies were carried into the village, my parents' situation became even more delicate. The chief told them that he would kill them, but, for some reason, he decided to wait. My parents had many friends within the tribe.

Finally, the chief agreed to free my parents in return for some favors. And no plane would ever be allowed to land in their village. My parents were flown out by a helicopter from the Brazilian army. 

The ban imposed by the chief lasted ten years. Shortly before retiring and returning to Switzerland, my father received permission to return to the village one more time. 
This was the only photograph he took on that occasion. 

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