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People from the countryside say you have to,
especially when going to an activity, to work,
have a shot of cachaça to "close up the body”,
to keep bad things away. So we are "closing off the body"
to all evil, to evil spirits and opening ourselves up to good things.
That is the San Antonio Church. It's a chapel
from the regional seminary, the Archdiocese of San Luis and the entire State of Maranhao
I did part of my training there, in that place over there
- We wanted to ask you: Vale or Father Vale?
- Vale, you can call me Vale, no problem.
- And what do they call you around here?
- Here, in general they call me Father Vale, others Vale,
but no problem. I prefer to be called Vale
In November 2006, peasant farmer communities in the Baixo Parnaiba region
organized actions against a project forintensive eucalyptus production in
monocultures.
During these mobilizations, we met farmers who were organizing then
and are still fighting today to defend their means of subsistence: the land.
Father Vale was by their side.
18 months later we took up the same road, traveling to the places where the mobilizations took place,
reliving the events through images filmed in 2006.
We set off on a path that blends in with his life - the path to Andiroba.
My experience…
… especially with God,
doesn't fit into the institutional categories,
because I don't see my experience as one that has been imprisoned in a religious institution,
the way the Church wants to appropriate it for itself.
In my experience, all the people who are fighting
so that people's rights are not violated
all the people that join in solidarity,
so that people have their dignity and life...
I think that God manifests himself forcefully in this universe,
more than in that religious institution.
We are getting close to the Port of Itaqui complex.
Those conveyor belts take iron ore from the Serra dos Caraja Mountains in the State of Para.
It comes down from up there, goes by here and directly into the ships' containers.
That's what eucalyptus, especially in the Baixo Paranaiba region, is for - to make charcoal
to heat the ore and turn it into balls, to be exported.
Here, eucalyptus is a product that creates green deserts
and is entirely for exportation, to prepare iron for exportation.
Here, there's the latest technology, and over there, they are totally behind,
the people in the charcoal ovens.
The contrast is very strong.
Over there is the steel factory where they process the iron,
where they receive the ore and transform it into balls, into a semi-industrialized product
for exportation.
There, they also conduct experiments to produce eucalyptus seedlings.
Here, they have enormous greenhouses that distribute to the entire Baixo
Paranaiba region and other parts of Maranhao.
When you enter and cross the eucalyptus plantations,
it looks like a pretty, green world,
but you notice right away the absence of all life
where no insects, birds, animals
where nothing really lives in that area of land occupied by eucalyptus.
When the company arrived here in Urbano Santos in 1982, this was one of the first areas it bought.
They immediately started to deforest the area.
The families that lived here, that farmed, grew corn and manioc were forced to leave for the city.
They set up here and immediately started experimenting with species to see
which ones adapted better. This tree is one of those species,
through the experiments, they found the species that adapted best.
I think this tree has been here for more than 12 years,
and last year,
when the Painera company negotiated the land, leased it to the Gerdau group,
the entire eucalyptus plantation - the trees were all this size - was cut down.
The trees were turned into charcoal and all that was leftover was this one here.
Between the eucalyptus saplings, the native plants also want to have their space,
but in a few days, they'll come and cut down all the native plants.
Nature is like the movement of the people,
that is, when the eucalyptus fights to impose itself,
from below, the life in the native plants says, "don't smother us! Because we have
the right to stay in this space, in the soil, it's our space.
- Working ? - Working!
- In the field? - I'm looking for a horse.
- Oh yeah? - Yeah.
- It got out? It's around here? - Yes.
- Did you find it? - Not yet.
- Before the eucalyptus was planted, this was all forest?
- Sir, one used to see furrows around here
It was hard to see the road over there, that crossed there and went on to Najazal's place,
but the rest...
The rest was all forest.
I farmed around here.
- Here, it's by production. - By production. Ah, ok.
- And what is "production"? How much?
- Here, production is taking it out of the oven and filling it up again.
- And how much are you paid for this? - 25 Reais (11 Euro).
- That's crazy, man!
- That means you work... Can you do everything in one day? - Yes.
- Take all the charcoal out and fill it up? - And fill it up!
- For 25 Reais? - Man
- When you take the charcoal out, is it still hot? - Yes
- Sometimes it's still on fire... We have to throw water on it.
- And you don't have anything for protection? - Yes, there is.
Oh yeah?
When I decided to leave the church,
I was following a principle I had before becoming a priest. I said to myself,
no one is forcing me to take this path, to do this work, to be a priest,
I'm going into this out of my own will,
and I want to have a lot of freedom while on this path.
If suddenly, I see that I have to reevaluate my choice,
may I have the strength to do so without constraint.
And for me, this was really great,
because I spent seven years in the Church without feeling frustrated.
I worked hard and I had a good experience.
I didn't experience duplicity, because it's like this:
the guy is up at the altar, but he's hiding a ton of other things.
I was always quite sincere in this sense,
but also had enough sincerity to say, look, I'm going to do this
but if at some point of time I have to think it over again,
I want to be able to do so very naturally, calmly, and that is what I did.
I left the Church, I continued to work here, in the communities' struggles,
in contact with the people, without that thing about breaking away and indifference.
When I started grassroots work in Andiroba,
in the neighbouring communities, I was 16 or 17 years old.
Now I am 53. How long is that? That's 36 years without leaving
the movement, the activism, this fight that I've been in all my life!
Juan is one of our leaders from the communities in Piloes,
a region which is now in the Bela Agua municipality.
These 7 years that we lived together were great. I went on a lot of long walks with him
walking with our packs on our backs to get to the communities.
Sometimes it would take us a week, right Juan?
Walking, arriving in the community, stopping to listen to the people,
then after celebrating mass, on this long walk with our feet firmly on the ground.
Oh my friend! How are you?
False Swiss!
This is Anita, my comrade,
one of the warriors of the story we're telling.
- This is Jerome - Hi!
- and… Renato.
We're making a documentary on the region
and Father Vale, or Vale...
- Vale or Father Vale?
- He's still Father Vale. - Still?
- Until when?
- Until he dies!
He and Father Javier were responsible for my training. I always say,
if I have some notion of politics, of community,
it's thanks to the help of both of them.
Vale, for us - I say "us" because it's not just me,
it's me and a group of people
for us, Vale is like…
A crutch.
Do you know what a crutch is?
It's a thing you use for support, you trust.