Origins

Photo: Kike Arnal

Due south from the lower Orinoco River, in Venezuela, a major tributary reaches 250 miles through raw wilderness to grip the ancient mountains of the Guiana Shield. This expanse is the Caura River Basin, one of the last intact tropical watersheds on Earth. Tropical rain forests, such as those of the Caura, hold most of the world’s biological richness, accompanied by much of its cultural diversity. In many remote rain forests, indigenous people have hunted and gathered and planted crops for centuries. Yet, despite these impacts, vast tracts of adjacent wilderness remain. Instead, it is industrial society, with its voracious appetites, that rapidly eats up natural habitat, including tropical rain forests. On the ground, however, the proximate causes of rain forest destruction are often blurry. In many cases, it has begun with an accelerated erosion of indigenous culture. Change, generally gradual, is intrinsic to culture. But if the bottom falls out—with sharply diminished knowledge transfer between generations, for example—the tenuous balance between indigenous people and their environment can radically tip. The purpose of Caura Futures is to identify and stabilize crucial links—both traditional and novel—between culture and conservation in the Caura River Basin. By fortifying people’s health, helping them to strengthen their cultural traditions, and creating low-impact channels for their economic well-being, we will maximize the long-term potential for conservation of the Caura River ecosystem. In focusing on one geographical area, we are forced to carefully tailor our approach and take stock of our effectiveness. By bringing exceptional talent to a streamlined organization, we emphasize both the effective autonomy of local people and the efficient use of funds. There is no doubt as to where the Caura Basin and its peoples are headed if we allow other economic actors, large and small, to shape the future of the watershed as they will. That is an experiment that has been conducted many times over elsewhere. Instead, Caura Futures works for a different vision where, decades from now, an indigenous woman in the Caura might still collect curative latex from a tree to paint over a scrape on her daughter’s knee, where low chants still float on the heavy night air, and harpy eagles remain as forest sentinels.