FINDING HIS TRIBE
Wapi is an Amazonian tribesman who didn’t understand why he was attracted to men as well as women. Sarah Begum shares how she helped him understand what it means to be bisexual when they met in the Tatuyo community in northern Brazil
How Wapi, an Amazonian tribesman based in northern Brazil, unearthed his bisexuality
After a wet and windy 30-minute boat journey along the banks of South America’s Negro River, I step onto sandy shores from which beaten paths snake the earth. Nearby, layers of trees shelter wooden huts. They are home to the indigenous Tatuyo community, a unique village inhabited by nine tribes who co-exist in the heart of the Brazilian Amazon.
Originally from the Colombian border, they migrated to this remote area, 50km from the nearest city — Manaus in north-western Brazil — and intermarried to create strong alliances. Although their ancient customs remain intact, they have revolutionised their lives with the trappings of the western lifestyle — television sets, king-size beds, freezers, mobile phones, computer consoles and more. In order to document their semi-contemporary way of life, I will spend a night with five different families in turn. During my stay, one distinguished tribesman really catches my eye — and not in the way you might be thinking.
Well-groomed, intelligent and witty, Wapi, 36, left home when he was just 13 years old to work in Villavicencio, Colombia, where he landed his first job at a bakery before migrating to the Brazilian cities of San
Miguel de la Catedra, San Gabriel and Manaus. But life in the city didn’t quite cut it for him, so he left the urban jungle to retreat to this community, where he lives a peaceful
“When you asked me if I preferred men or women, I just couldn’t sleep” Wapi
existence cultivating crops; his kingdom for the past 15 years.
He leads me through the emerald rainforest, pausing at unique trees and plant species to educate me about their medicinal benefits. Wapi tells me how he had to learn how to use all the trees and plants when he was young; a tree bark used for pain relief, a plant to soothe stomach aches, and a mighty tree which was hit several times to call for help. He sighs with sadness at the Brazilian government’s efforts to exploit this pristine land; a treasure trove of natural miracles yet to be discovered by the modern explorer.
Brazil’s Space Agency has reported that a total of 11,088 square kilometres of the Amazon rainforest were destroyed between August 2019 and July 2020. Deforestation in the Amazon continues to threaten the lungs of our planet at an alarming rate and Earth Observation data from all over the world points towards a deteriorating existence for humanity if climate action doesn’t curb the crisis.
Glorious streams of sweat sweep across Wapi’s face while I battle through a trail of wonder — and mud. The rain pulses through the earth as we hurry back to his house; a simple hut where he lives alone, except for a dog (man’s best friend anywhere in the world) and the occasional visit from family. Bright-red graffiti etched on the wall reads, ‘Julio Cesa’ inside the shape of a red heart; his pseudonym commemorating the great Roman emperor.
It is time to prepare dinner. Ready to assist, I am given the task of beating yucca flour on the pan to make tapioca (a soft white tortilla), but my eyes wander over to something I have never seen before in an indigenous household — a hand-made wooden grill.
Wapi is precise about what he eats and how he cooks his meals; grilling all meats, selecting the right produce and using minimal ingredients without oil to ensure a diet rich in nutrients. I become a huge fan of his “raw vegan” smoothies (also a great face mask) — fresh fruits from the trees in his backyard mashed to a juicy pulp. A neatly folded green hammock hangs in the open space as I place my camera equipment on the wooden bench and take one of two seats by the dinner table to feast on traditional delicacies; tapioca, fish stew, and what looks like a chicken casserole, complete with fizzy drink bottles filled with fresh mango juice.
“We eat the palms, we have ants, sometimes we go in the jungle and we find larvae, they are called mojojoi; a type of worm we eat with tapioca,” Wapi says, comparing his lifestyle to that of those in the city he left behind.
“If I was in the city, I would pay for water, buy food, buy everything and live without tranquility. Too many cars, motorcycles, people, everyone is shouting, the bus, too much noise!” A look of serenity spreads across his face as he takes in the peace of his natural environment.
Born to a Tuyucan mother and a Tatuyo father who have both passed away, Wapi lives in the same community as his five sisters and three brothers. In the past, indigenous families had 12 children, but Wapi doesn’t want more than two or three kids. “In old times, it wasn’t as complicated as it is now,” he explains. “Now, we live in the midst of white people, so things are very expensive and life is more complicated so we have to reduce this a bit.”
For now, the only children wandering in and out of his hut are his niece and nephews, and they are a playful bunch — I watch one sweet little girl named Rosalinda pit her
Thor and Barbie dolls against each other in a wrestling match! Meanwhile, I sit in awe as her slightly older brothers watch Despacito on YouTube on their mobile phones — we all charge our phones from the extension cable which hangs from the ceiling.
At the break of day, like most members of the community, Wapi makes handicrafts over a cup of coffee before embellishing his face and body with tribal paint using fruits from the forest. Eco-tourists arrive once a day to watch demonstrations of the tribe’s traditional rituals in a spiritual dance ceremony. They pull me into the circle and I freeze — sweating at the thought of any solos in front of a group of strangers — I left my tribal moves in the other jungle! I am saved from the embarrassment and link arms for a little boogie to the beat of the chants while observing as darts are thrown at a target pinned to the wall. Once the photoshoots are over and hand-made souvenirs have been bought, Wapi heads off for a walk in the jungle to collect leaves to fix the holes in his house. He has an envious schedule; working two to three hours a day with weekends off to relax.
I can’t help but compare this to my previous experience living with an indigenous tribe, in the Ecuadorian Amazon a decade ago, where the men were very much accustomed to hunting animals for food, and a cash economy did not exist within the jungle.
However, hunting expeditions are not possible here. “It is called the land of Poranga Conquista. It means that it is administered by the government and this is why it is prohibited to hunt. When I came here in the year 2000, it was still free. You were able to hunt five, six animals every day and you could make an asado [roast] if you wanted to and sell to other people. But here, you have to kill only one, to eat yourself.” Hunting is still permitted in Wapi’s ancestral lands, between the borders of Colombia and Brazil, although the idea doesn’t seem to excite him as much today.
Over dinner, we enter the relationship topic. I ask him the burning question; does he prefer men or women? Wapi’s confused response alludes to his interest in both genders, but this doesn’t confirm his sexual preference. The very next day, he awakes, unsettled, to ask, “I’m a man in his 30s, living by myself in an indigenous community, I’m not married and I have no children. When you asked me if I preferred men or women, I thought about it all night and just couldn’t sleep. Because I like both men and women — so maybe there’s something wrong with me?”
I can feel my own emotions stirring at his words, which mirror my own dilemma. I explain that it is completely normal to feel attracted to both men and women, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with him, before sharing my own story and introducing what it is like to identify as bisexual. I can see the anxiety on his face melt, replaced by a spark
“I like men and women — maybe there’s something wrong with me?”
of curiosity and even a little laugh escape his friendly face. That’s when I realise; I am the first person he has come out to about his sexuality.
In Brazil’s cities such as Manaus, Wapi tells me that he has come across hundreds of same-sex relationships within indigenous communities. He sheds light on these encounters, “I have met women that have ended up with women, and women that have ended up with men. They have told me that they’ve done it because of love. The other person respects them, looks after them, they help each other a lot and stay together without problems. At first, they chose a woman and it didn’t work out and then they got together with a man and that worked out, so they never had problems.
“Women told me: my husband is a good-fornothing, my husband used to hit me, he was abusive to me and my child. She preferred to stay with a woman, and had no problems. I think these things come from the union, from the love they feel for one another in respect to being happy.”
Wapi enlightens me on meet-ups for
“people who like people of the same gender” in some of Brazil’s rural communities such as San Gabriel de la Cascada and Lauareté, where the indigenous people mix with white people. He explains how these meet-ups have inspired same-sex and inter-racial relationships within indigenous communities, and that sometimes after an indigenous person has had their eyes opened to the possibility of same-sex relationships, they don’t turn back from the experience. “Over there, I have met them. You have indigenous with a white woman, woman with woman. Or Indian with a white man, man with man. Let us say, with much respect, they liked each other and they love and they respect each other and they look after one another.”
Wapi dreams of travelling the world, but France in particular has his heart, “Many people tell me that France is a very interesting country. It has many old stories that are important to know. Paris is a city that also has so many things; my indigenous history. My father used to say that our history, the root, comes from there. So I have always been keen on going, but I have never had the opportunity to go there to see it.”
There is no legislation against homosexuality in Brazil, yet Brazilian society remains predominantly religious and thereby conservative. People in same-sex relationships are often violently abused and sometimes beaten to death. Back in Manaus, Parada, the city’s Pride organiser, has revealed footage of same-sex couples being bullied and tortured on the streets, some even shot.
Afraid of falling in love and being despised or mistreated for it, Wapi states, “If I like a person, be it a woman or a man, and they like me, they can’t be from here. It will be better if it was someone from far away, from another city, someone from another country, a white person… I think I have to go over there to visit and they need to come here, too. I will sleep very well now.”
With Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro notorious for his homophobic comments, Wapi feels obliged to leave the country in search of true love. “I know many people, but not, let’s say, anyone convenient to my happiness. Because I believe in, as they say in Spanish, soul mates. Soul mate means to love the person. To love, that you like the person from afar. That the person is important to you, is good — not sex, so much. But [you can have] sex at any time.”
Thanks to his tribe’s ecotourism package, Wapi has made friendships with people from all over the world who he stays in contact with through emails and conversations on social media platforms, such as Facebook. Another thing the internet allows him to do is to “get to know someone, arrange a date and go and meet that person, get to know them. The internet is always more attractive than the TV. With internet, at least we mobilise our fingers,” he says.
After we exchange email addresses, he offers me some advice, telling me bluntly not to waste my time with anyone who isn’t sure about what they want and to find a man who wants to settle down with me.
After our final embrace, Wapi says, “When a person goes somewhere they haven’t been before, that they don’t know, they have the opportunity to get to know it and so you have to learn everything there is to learn about this place. For example, you are getting to know us. You have never been here before; it’s your first time. So you are deeply like our family now. You eat our food, you have cooked tapioca and asado already and next time you will make fish molleja all by yourself. You are interested to learn and to take your knowledge to the city and reproduce it for friends and family, so that they can also get a little bit of that knowledge. And to me, this is very good.”
“If I like a person, a woman or a man, and they like me, they can’t be from here”