Siã Huni Kuin: A prominent indigenous leader wrongfully convicted in the Amazon.

Very close to the Rio Branco Palace, in the center of the Acrean capital, on a side strip of the Praça Povos da Floresta (Peoples of the Forest Square), stands a life-size statue sculpted in clay and bronze of Chico Mendes holding a child's hand. It was there that I found Siã Huni Kuin one day, in a tight conversation, chatting with the great rubber tapper leader.

There, in the twilight of a warm and humid evening, leaning against one of the many palm trees that protect Chico Mendes from the street winds, Siã opened his heart to his friend, absent from the physical space of this world thanks to the precise action of an assassin's bullet, fired three decades ago by the forces of the large landowners:

"Things aren't easy, Txai. They continue to persecute our people, disrespecting our cultures. But I keep fighting, defending our forest. From time to time I travel, even outside of Brazil. Did you know that nowadays they pay us to speak? What do I do with the money I earn? The same as always, Txai: I invest in my community, there in Jordão."

The dialogue of José Osair Sales, born in the Fortaleza rubber plantation on the Acrean banks of the Jordão River in 1964, son of Rita Monteiro and the great chief and main leader of the Huni Kuin people, Sueiro Cerqueira Sales, certainly did not occur in a straight line, because, following the cultural tradition of the Kaxinawá, Siã's speech is always elliptical, metaphorical. Its content, however, could not be more relevant today.

In 2014, the great leader Siã Huni Kuin, who, in the late 1970s, along with other leaders, fought for the demarcation of the Kaxinawá Indigenous Land of the Jordão River and, subsequently, for the creation of the cooperative that, according to anthropologist Marcelo Piedrafita, "would collectively organize the production of rubber and the sale of goods in the rubber plantations of their Indigenous Land," embarked on yet another trip to spread the culture of his people in Europe.

In Siã's baggage, much of his rich history of struggles, partly recorded by the anthropologist Mauro Almeida: "In 1989 there was a project to free rubber tappers and farmers in Alto Juruá from debt bondage. Through the mediation of Terri Aquino, the Kaxinawá were included. Siã came to São Paulo to make purchases with the resources allocated to the Kaxinawá of Jordão. Together, we went through the shops on Rua 25 de Maio in São Paulo — where everything is cheaper — and Siã filmed the purchase of hammocks and other goods, which he paid for with the money he took from a bag. It was his financial report for his people — he was taking "goods" for a price many times lower than what was charged by the bosses and intermediaries."

A similar situation occurred in 1993, when I received Siã in the United States for interviews for the Reebok Human Rights Award, which he won. As an award-winning citizen of the forest, Siã gave lectures and, in addition to the thousands of dollars from the prize, earned some extra money at the Universities.

Paid in cash, he put the dollars in a bag and returned to Brazil with them, without declaring them at customs, because this procedure of rummaging through other people's backpacks was never part of his people's rituals.

Years later, when I met him and asked what he had done with the prize money, Siã said in the most natural voice in the world: "I stopped in São Paulo, bought things to take back to the village. And with the big money, I bought a rubber plantation to expand our Indigenous Land."

During this 2014 trip, Siã was in Germany where, at the invitation of visual artist Ernesto Neto, she gave a lecture as a special guest at the HAUX, HAUX exhibition at the Arp Museum Bahnhof Rolandseck. From Germany, she went to Spain, where she also gave a lecture at AYA, the International Ayahuasca Conference, a sacramental beverage used for millennia by the indigenous peoples of Acre.

During this tour, Siã traveled through Vienna, Austria, and several other European cities, performing ritual ceremonies and giving lectures. For her work of more than two months on the Old Continent, she received approximately five thousand euros, according to receipts issued by all her clients.

In December 2014, he returned to Brazil and, as always, stopped in Rio and São Paulo. As usual, he waited with friends and family for a cheaper flight to Acre.

In São Paulo, he spent some of the euros buying things for the village before flying home. As president of the Kaxinawá Rubber Tappers Association of the Jordão River (ASKARJ), one of the first local indigenous organizations to be created in the state of Acre, the saved resources would, according to Siã, be invested in the organization he has led since 1988.

On the way, between Rio Branco and Cruzeiro do Sul, he was stopped during a Federal Police operation in the municipality of Feijó. During the search, police found 39 grams of cannabis in his suitcase, purchased in São Paulo for personal use, and 4.200 undeclared euros, an amount slightly above the 10 reais allowed by law.

He was arrested, accused of international drug trafficking. Released by a habeas corpus, Siã has since lived under the weight of that decision, having to go to Feijó monthly to prove that he is within the state of Acre and available to the justice system. On March 19 of this year, he was sentenced in the first instance to ten years in prison.

Given Siã's background—he is not and never has been a drug trafficker—and the circumstances of his conviction, defenders of indigenous rights and human liberties, such as the indigenist Jairo Lima, consider this sentence harsh, unjust, and questionable. They argue that in this, as in so many other cases, there was a lack of understanding on the part of a justice system that, in its traditional "blindness," unleashed its horizontal, impartial, and implacable fury upon a powerless and vulnerable indigenous citizen.

While awaiting trial in the second instance, the great leader who dedicated his life to raising funds to expand and consolidate the collective territory of the Huni Kuin people, composed of three Indigenous Lands, with an aggregate extension of 107.603 hectares, currently occupied by just over 3,5 indigenous people, distributed in 34 villages, on the Tarauacá and Jordão rivers, Siã counts on the support of friends who are mobilizing in his defense in Brazil and throughout the world.

According to anthropologist Dedé Maia, what Siã's friends are seeking is not an exception to the rule in defending an indigenous leader. What they want is for those responsible for justice to understand the social, cultural, and historical intricacies of the convicted citizen, so that Siã's case ceases to be part of this grim statistic of "vigilante justice" processes that have been taking over our country in recent times.

Hopefully, the numerous testimonies about Siã's culture and life, the historical records about her unwavering commitment to defending the forest peoples, the proof of legitimate payments for her services rendered in Europe, and the intercession of all the enchanted yuxibus, may move the judge responsible for the second instance trial of Case No. 0500023-55-2014.8.01.0013, which is currently being processed in the Criminal Court of Feijó.

Only in this way can a great leader, wrongfully convicted, return to live in peace with his people in the heart of the forest.