The 600-kilometer trip from Macapá, capital of Amapá state, to the not-so-small town Oiapoque takes about 90 minutes by plane in a 30-seat turboprop Brasília. Flights run on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Flying over the Amazon, we get a sense of just how big Brazil really is. Occasionally we see swaths through the forest, evidence of deforestation and burning. From the window, just before we land, we spot the Oiapoque River, the natural border that separates Brazil from French Guyana, with headwaters in the Tumucumaque hills.
On the riverbank, yet another opening has been cut into the forest. That would be the city of Oiapoque. The 2000 census put the population at 14,000 – double the number two decades earlier.
Arriving at the airport, we spot a Brazilian Air Force (FAB) craft that carries civilians for free to Belém or Macapá and back on a space-available basis. You can’t make reservations. Instead you scramble for your place just before departure. Those able to push to the front and get their names on the list can fly. As the plane prepares for take-off, a sergeant calls out names in order until the plane is full. A wild swarm of families and small-time peddlers lugging sacks full of merchandise, an endless stream of human beings, buzz around the soldier like bees.
The ride from the airport to town is short, but the road is winding. The BR156 national highway, opened in the 1970s but never paved (despite various concessions awarded by successive governments) seems an ochre line of potholes. Taxi drivers race along at a careless pace, instilling backseat passengers with fear. But don’t blame the cabbies: everyone in Oiapoque drives like the same way.
Shock at Arrival
Arriving at the Rua Principal (literally, Main Street), we begin to witness scenes emblematic of a border town in the middle of a jungle that has been abandoned by the authorities. Illicit activities flourish, fueled by a combination of the Brazilian “jeitinho” (extra-legal, albeit not always illegal, quick fixes) and a prevailing “whatever” attitude. Stepping from the taxi, we’re accosted by Portuguese-French bilingual porters. Each wants to carry a little bag and, of course, charge for the privilege. Next come the money changers with their calculators: “Changê! Changê! Eurô! Eurô!” Once past them, we’re set upon by the “catreiros” – guys who pilot speedboats of sorts, called “catraias” (of course), that stand ready whisk you from Oiapoque to its sister city Saint George on the French side.
There’s hardly time to look around, but the shopping options seem endless. Main street (though called “principal,” it is officially nameless) features a hodgepodge of retail establishments: more than a dozen gold trading shops that buy or sell the precious metal; a row of fly-ridden butcher shops; the Paris beauty salon; the mayor’s office (though his honor never seems to be in); the regional headquarters of the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), the federal agency responsible for indigenous affairs; health centers; the marketplace; and stores that sell mining equipment. There are no restaurants – except those in the rare and dubious looking flophouses.
The level of disorder is so overwhelming that it seems like a slur to call the place representative of Brazil. Nearly every street sports a billboard that is insulting its cynicism. Rusted through, they’re from the Amapá state government; they promote environmental consciousness with sayings like “Protect the River, a Source of Life.” They’re bilingual: in French as well as Portuguese. And they’re ironically placed astride open-air ditches filled with sewage that flows untreated into the river.
A study 2001 by the Brazilian Geographical and Statistical Institute (IBGE), a federal agency, revealed that only 28% of Oiapoque’s homes have running water and just 2% are connected to the sewage system. But most people seem unconcerned. They swim happily along the riverbank.
It costs R$10 (10 reals) to make the 10 minute trip across the river to the French side. The culture shock begins at the landing. Saint George sports a small pier where the boats can dock. The customs house, flying a French flag, can be seen from the shore. Everybody speaks French, of course. Legal tender is the Euro, and the merchandise is French. The difference is brutal. Some Brazilians who live on the French side say that life is tough, but with hard work one can get ahead. To obtain residency or a permanent visa people must prove that they’ve worked on the French side for 10 years. Most people we met said the biggest difference is the way people behave. The “brazucas” (Brazilians) say they have trouble dealing with the dispirited French. On the Brazilian side, “brega” (low class pop) music spews everywhere from loudspeakers. (Yes, most residents of Oiapoque really do like brega, along with a little zouk.) On the French side, there’s silence.
Wildlife and Plants
Everybody in Oiapoque says that winter begins in January. That’s the rainy season. And that’s when we visited. So we didn’t see any wildlife. The only thing that seemed alive was the Oiapoque River, which ebbed and flowed in a dance-like rhythm. Our sailboat ran aground four times in the river. We got used to it: the same thing happened in every river we tried to navigate in northern Amapá. The strong tides push the sands of the riverbanks into new positions everyday. It is impossible to map the sandbars. Once, having run aground, we spied in the distance a giant sucurí snake swimming calmly along. It was too big to be anything but a sucurí.
Indigenous People
About 6,000 Indians live in Oiapoque, according to Domingos Santa Rosa, regional director of FUNAI. They are split among four ethnic groups: Galibi, Galibi Maruono, Palikuna and the Karipunas.
Near downtown Oiapoque there’s a small island in a district known as Manga. Some Karipunas live there. Chief Luciano, sporting a wristwatch and cut-off jeans, told us that he’s been on the job for a decade. He gets help from a group of advisors chosen by the Karipuna people. According to the chief, the Karipunas of Manga don’t have much contact with the whites of Oiapoque beyond selling peacock bass (tucunaré in Portuguese) and other fish that they hunt with bows and arrows in the river in their homeland.
Immigrants have been attracted to Oiapoque by activities like wildcat mining and the bridge projected to link French Guyana to Brazil. The population growth has affected the daily routines of the Indians, according to FUNAI’s Santa Rosa. Problems affecting indigenous culture include prostitution, drugs, land invasions and wildcat mining. This is FUNAI’s biggest concern in Amapá. The institution is closely monitoring the bridge project with an eye towards its potential impact on native people.
But one thing is sure: the social services provided to the Indians are far better than those available to common citizens.
Oiapoque by Numbers
Population: 14,885
Sewage: 123 single-family homes have toilets that are connected to the treatment system
Water: 575 single-family homes have running water
Trash: 1,391 single-family homes have regular trash collection
Source: IBGE Cidades 2004
Paulina Chamorro is a reporter with the Mar Sem Fim (Endless Ocean) Project. She and the rest of the crew are traveling the entire coast of Brazil, from Oiapoque in the extreme north to Chuí at the country’s southernmost tip in a sailboat, producing content for media outlets that include Brazil’s TV Cultura and BrazilMax.
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