This view, in far western Peru, betrays minimal signs of human habitation, in a few cleared fields on the left side under the engine. The photograph is of land that is almost surely a reserve for uncontacted people, either the Isconahua, the Kapanawa, or the Yavari Tapiche. The remoteness of the region and a lack of political will make protecting the jungle from prospectors virtually impossible. But I found the sight of intact jungle to be a revelation.
As the Dawes Act weakened the tribes in the U.S by parceling out reservation land to individuals, a new law in Kenya is doing the same to the land of the Maasai. Business-minded Kenyans are flooding the savannah, buying up ground that has never before been for sale, and remaking huge swaths of open plains into wheat fields. The photograph is in Narok, the man walking beside the combine a Maasai elder.
These logs traveled off the Amazon River to Pucallpa, Peru. A man working on the deck of the barge saw me trudging through the mud and waved me over. I climbed aboard. I asked him how big was the biggest tree he’d ever seen. He said his uncle had worked as a logger in Africa and he spoke of a tree so large that when struck with an ax, it started to rain.
Ofir bought a billy goat and rode in the back of a pickup toward the Achipawa, searching for the first Achipawa Christian, Timothy, who lived on the edge of Achipawa territory and who would speak English. Ofir was in the remote north of Nigeria. Several days on, he and Timothy began to climb the volcano on which the Achipawa live. The two boys pictured were working seven years in the fields of their future father-in-laws, strangely echoing Jacob in Genesis. The Achipawa are animists.