The article intends to bring auto-ethnographic narratives from two researchers who share the same research field, Pantanal Sul. It is a biome located in the central-west region of Brazil, overcome by floods and droughts. It is in this scenario that we find ourselves. Miraíra’s educational background is in Physical Education, and Rafael in Biology. Miraíra has studied leisure, children and games, whereas Rafael has studied large mammals and local livelihoods. Both researchers happened to be in the same boat for 5 h before reaching the community under study, so they had time for many conversations. When they arrived at their destination, their eyes beheld the riverine people full of stories, gestures, and wisdom. Both recognized and honored the lives of each being who live on the banks of the Paraguay River. Every time they went up and down the river, they learned a little bit more. Over time, the opportunity arose to research together; they thought about itineraries, records, and how to get to the houses. There was always something different, as each house had its unique way of being. Here, a great opportunity was bestowed as they look at their own humanity as well as those they met. Leisure, work, games, and learning were all the composed elements, and when intertwined, they expanded their worldviews. Thus, inspired by Creative Analytic Practices, this topic is presented, sharing the narratives of the daily life of researching the Pantanal, which are usually only found between the lines of publications.
Before you start reading, we would like to invite you to open the following link, close your eyes, and go with the images that come to you while you hear this voice…
When you choose a research field that is in the middle of nature, where the only possible way to reach it is by boat, it creates challenges and uncertainties. There is stability, there is instability. When we board the boat in the Pantanal, we feel sensations that we never had before. As we move away from the port, the river becomes sovereign, but at the mercy of the sun, rain, or any movement that may occur. The Paraguay River requires an experienced and wise boat captain—Jaburu is one of them. He guided us through the water, in addition to collaborating with our research itineraries. He became a friend with whom we enjoyed talking about life and the Pantanal.
We (Miraíra and Rafael) met on one of the shared trips in the Ecology and Action boat (Ecoa)Footnote 1 in 2018, captained by Jaburu. Each one was on board to conduct different field research. Over time, we talked about the perceptions we had about the communities and the Pantanal. Besides, as Rafael had already been to the region many times, he gave many tips to Mira, the researcher unaccustomed to all the possible challenges of the environment. We started the partnership, which has grown stronger with time, and new research projects have emerged. In this paper, we dedicate ourselves to write a self-ethnography, presenting our scientific progress, for which we were inspired by Creative Analytic Practices. This topic is presented by sharing the narratives of the daily researches in the Pantanal, which are normally only found superficially in publications.
Mira has always been delighted with the stories that those bodies told her, often in silence, Rafael, on the other hand, impressed by the resilience of the local people and their power to contribute to local sustainability. We took some trips together, others alone. We stayed at the homes of the local people, in schools in the region, as well as the Ecoa study base. Sometimes we stayed a long time, whereas other trips were shorter. We started to be recognized by the noise of our boat arriving on the riverbank of the houses, being called by our names. They even gave us nicknames, as “fish”, “mango”, and “yuca”. We transported parcels, letters, and money between family members. In these comings and goings, we expanded and strengthened our friendships and networks.
As researchers, we pack and unpack our bags. We leave, walk paths, and arrive, or not. Sometimes we cannot go out. We find and lose pieces of everything. The challenges of a research field that makes us dependent on variables that go beyond our desires—boat, captain, weather, etc. There is constant movement and enchantment, which we feel is necessary, not as synonyms of obligation, but of belonging to our profession, as occupational devotees (Stebbins, 2014). Feeling translated in the music of Gilberto Gil, Brazilian composer, who sings: “Today I feel/As if going was necessary to return/So much more alive/With a more lived life, divided into there and here”.Footnote 2
When we thought about doing ethnographic research in the Pantanal, regardless of our areas of expertise, we wondered who would we meet, and how we would get there. There are some forms of transport, such as the “rabeta”,Footnote 3 a charterFootnote 4 from luxury tourism vessels, with the Ecoa and Federal University of Mato Grosso do Sul (UFMS) boats or with local people themselves … How long does it take to travel there? It depends on a lot: a functioning boat engine, the wind, the rain, the depth of the river, whether it is downstream (in favor of the current) or upstream (against the current). How much will be spent? This varies a great deal, but it is certainly not cheap and the dates are usually not decided by us.
Our research field is an environment recognized for its natural wonders. People come from afar to bird watching and search for many different animals (tapirs, monkeys, capybaras, giant otters, anteaters, and especially, jaguars). In this regard, the tourists are questioned after the tours: how many jaguars did you see? Usually, the answer is none. Afterwards, the interrogation continues: How many jaguars saw you? Most of the time, people are left with a reflective expression. Listening, seeing, and feeling nature requires delicate experiences …
Carrying out research in the Pantanal ends up being a little like that … How many things have we seen that were never even imagined? Every trip to the Pantanal was a new chance to look at what we have seen, or not. One day we were on the way to the Barra do São Lourenço community when Jaburu showed us two giant otters swimming in the river. We stopped the boat and admired them for a while, it was unforgettable (Fig. 1).
The Pantanal, located in the center of South America, is considered the largest and most preserved wetland in the world. It covers an area of 179,000 Km2, encompassing regions in Bolivia, Paraguay but mostly Brazil (over 70%), with over 85% of its native vegetation remaining (Tomas et al., 2019). The main ecological feature of this ecosystem is the annual flood pulse. The Pantanal is a flat area in the middle of several mountain ranges. Therefore, every year, between December and March, the rainfall from the Pantanal’s surrounding vicinity is drained into the region, flooding huge areas of the floodplain. Depending on the year, up to 80% of the Pantanal can be covered by water (Keddy et al., 2009). The Pantanal can be considered a big swamp. This landscape, composed of vast flooded areas, alongside the intense heat of central South America, is one of the most suitable ecosystems for mosquitos. Throughout January and March, just after the rainy season, clouds of mosquitos fly overhead. Due to the large number of blood-sucking mosquitos, babies must be hidden indoors and some small animals, such as dogs or chickens may end up dying due to anemia. Moreover, the temperature may reach up to 45 °C. There is a joke which people tell: “[…] the Pantaneiro (a man from the Pantanal) died and went to hell, however, he was, in fact, quite enjoying it. The Devil, upset with the situation, came to him, and asked: come on, are you not suffering from this unbearable heat? The Pantaneiro looked at him, looked around, and said: not at all, it’s pleasant here, there are no mosquitos”. The heat along with some unsustainable practices lead to forest fires during the dry season. In 2020, up to 30% was burned down (Lasa, 2020).
The second significantly harsh aspect is nature. As previously stated, the Pantanal is considered one of the most protected wetlands in the world, and therefore, it hosts a healthy population of species that are threatened elsewhere (Junk et al., 2011). For instance, it is common to hear or see jaguars around the houses of the local people. Anacondas and other types of snakes are also usual.
For someone who is visiting the region, the Pantanal is breathtaking. The abundance of wildlife alongside the floodplain creates a fascinating combination. However, tourists do not have to deal with mosquitos, or sleep with jaguars passing by their beds, or cross paths with anacondas when going to brush their teeth in the river. Tourists eat the piranhas, whereas the local people and researchers are afraid to be eaten by the piranhas. Furthermore, tourists can sleep in an air-conditioned room with a comfortable double bed. When we started to work in the Pantanal, we discovered that no one, neither from NGOs nor from universities, has ever stayed more than one night in the community where we did our research even though there were some publications about the local people. Before arriving there and staying overnight, we had not understood why!
The local communities that we studied in the Pantanal originated through intermarriage and the adoption of Paraguayans and slaves with the indigenous Guató, Guanás, Guatiedéos, and Quiniquinaus groups who were living in the area. Soon after the dreadful Paraguayan war (War of the Triple Alliance, 1864–1865) that killed 90% of the male population of Paraguay State (Ganson, 1990), many Paraguayans migrated to the Pantanal. During the same period, with the end of slavery in 1888, many African descendants, previously working in gold mines in the Cuiabá region, migrated to the Pantanal (Chiaravalloti, 2019). Local indigenous families living throughout the Paraguay River network and on the Urucum-Amolar Plateau began accepting foreigners into their communities. These multiracial groups are now called “traditional communities" (Chiaravalloti, 2019). Most families of the traditional riverine people typically do not live in large settlements, but in isolated ones comprising extended families (Chiaravalloti, 2017).
From Corumbá, the closest city, it is a minimum of 4 h by boat if the engine is powerful to reach the community we studied. However, in our case, we almost always go with the Ecoa boat, so it takes us an average of 6 h when all conditions are favorable. Nevertheless, we have reached a record of 10 h before (Fig. 2).
At the beginning of all our trips, we think about the life that we have left at the port, the things left undone, the commitments that will still be there when we return, as well as the longing for those who stayed at home. But with each passing hour, the horizon comes into view, which is immensely grand. As we are riding over the waters, we are driven into an inner journey. We begin to look at the cliffs on the riverbanks, birds flying overhead, jumping fish … These images make up the ritual of connecting our labor with the privilege of being there, and so the surrender takes shape.
In a sought-after destination for travel and leisure, we chose to develop research in a place that provokes us to look within deeply, both with astonishment and enchantment. There is no protection, there is complete abandon. As researchers in love with the Pantanal, we constantly contemplate what makes us go to such a changeable, unpredictable environment, time and time again … The guarantee is that the sun will be there, shining and burning hot for most of the year. Whatever else must happen will follow the flow of life and our sensitivity, silence, and listening ears.
After reading the German Catholic philosopher Pieper’s writings (1948, 1998), we reflect that our experience, as researchers, can be considered a movement of resistance to the hegemony of the modern condition that the author named "total work". In this perspective, when we remind ourselves about our stays in the Pantanal, we were unable to separate moments of work from leisure. We believe that we have the chance, through the way we conduct our stay in the field, to overflow this experience to the point where we can consider it a true celebration of existence, as Pieper (1948, 1998) makes us reflect. Even though for the author, the awareness of leisure is linked to the practices of Catholicism, which does not get closer to our condition, there is, intrinsically, in his work the invitation to think about a way of existing that does not place labor at the center of life because according to the author, leisure is:
Leisure is a form of that stillness that is the necessary preparation for accepting reality; only the person who is still can hear, and whoever is not still, cannot hear. Such stillness as this is not mere soundlessness or a dead muteness; it means, rather, that the soul'spower, as real, of responding to the real a correspondence, eternally established in nature has not yet descended into words. Leisure is the disposition of receptive understanding, of contemplative beholding, and immersion in the real. (Pieper, 1998, p. 50).
In this paper, we describe our own experience as occupational devotees in a hostile environment in Brazil’s Pantanal wetland. Through an autoethnography presented by short narratives, our goal is to describe how one can find pleasure and happiness in a laborious activity that requires the employee to deal with thousands of mosquitos, 45 °C heat, snakes, scorpions, and sleep deprivation. In this perspective, we share the thoughts of Silk et al. (2017) on the complex derivation and plurality existing in leisure studies, which should be reflected from their tensions, complexities, divergent approaches, trajectories, and different influences. As Collins (2017) emphasizes, we necessitate this vision to consider the future and potential of leisure.
From this broader viewpoint, we understand leisure as a social, political and cultural phenomenon, against hegemony, historically generated and problematized. As a social practice, it is influenced by a multiplicity of experiences located in different socio-cultural contexts (Gomes, 2014). Leisure is directly related to the culture experienced, along with particular significance and senses for those who encounter it. In Brazil, it is part of the Brazilian National Constitution (1988), therefore, it is legitimized as a social right.
In our scientific productions, we discuss people, their ways of living, territory management, and animals. The protagonist has always been the river and the people who live, know, care, and teach us about the Pantanal. This protagonism, when visiting our field notebooks and memories, was mixed with the recollection of our emotions, discoveries, insights, and listening … Details that escape the compositions of our non-fiction script (Wright, 2017). With the desire to present to the public, we showcase what was often in the wings, with our movements as researchers, our discoveries, our views, our occupational devotees (Stebbins, 2014).
4 In the Waters and Lands of the Pantanal, Talking to Those Who Could Indicate Trails
Being in the Pantanal, as a researcher, requires a knowledge exchange with those who have followed similar paths, even if in other regions and different quests. This interlocution was and is essential for the conception that we defend, of a science that takes place in the collective, in the sum, in mutual aid.
We decided to write this script inspired by Creative Analytic Practices (CAP) (Parry & Johnson, 2007), because we understand that this concept invites the freedom to express our lived experiences, through multiple languages: poems, photos, narratives, fiction, and creative non-fiction, among others. We base this choice on considering that the developed research, with a craft intertwined with leisure, demands chronicled fluidity and lightness so that the riverside life, simple and complex, may find ways to uphold the movement of its nascent daily routines.
As researchers we are aware of the different ways to publish our research. CAP stood out as an important possibility for sharing our sensations, emotions, choices in our life. Inspired by Richardson (2000, p. 254) writings, we sought to fill the five criteria to evaluate CAP, which are:
(1)
Substantive contribution Does this piece contribute to our understanding of social-life? Does the writer demonstrate a deeply grounded (if embedded) human-world understanding and perspective? How has this perspective informed the construction of the text?
(2)
Aesthetic merit Does this piece succeed aesthetically? Does the use of creative analytical practices open up the text, invite interpretive responses? Is the text artistically shaped, satisfying, complex, and not boring?
(3)
Reflexivity How did the author come to write this text? How was the information gathered? Ethical issues? How has the author’s subjectivity been both a producer and a product of this text? Is there adequate self-awareness and selfexposure for the reader to make judgments about the point of view? Do authors hold themselves accountable to the standards of knowing and telling of the people they have studied?
(4)
Impact Does this affect me? Emotionally? Intellectually? Generate new questions? Move me to write? Move me to try new research practices? Move me to action?
(5)
Expresses a reality Does this text embody a fleshed out, embodied sense of lived-experience? Does it seem “true”—a credible account of a cultural, social, individual, or communal sense of the “real”?
By using CAP we have the possibility of merging science and arts oppening up the possibility of sharing our resources as described by Richardson (2000, p. 254): “Creative arts is one lens to view the world; analytical/science is another. We see better with two lenses. We see best with both lenses focused and magnified.”. The possibilities that CAP brings favour us to build an auto-ethnography that incorporate the nuances of each author. This feature is key, since auto-ethnographies aim to help “a self awareness about the movement that surround the sociological research, the interactions between the researcher and what is being studied and the relations (political views, cultural, ethical, and racial aspects) of the researcher with the topic of the research” (Santos, 2017, p. 225).
In making this choice, we transgress teaching and learning regarding the craft of research. In this sense, Parry and Johnson (2007) reflect that researchers learn that in order for a job to be scientific, it should not incorporate personal experiences, emotions, individuality, values, and/or creativity along the research path. Much of this, in the field of leisure, ended up distancing itself from understanding how it is lived because they are intersected by a theoretical lens that has little flexibility in the face of experiences (Parry & Johnson, 2007). Contrary to this proposal, we agree with a poet who lived for many years in the Pantanal, Manoel de Barros (2010, p. 340): "Science can classify and name the organs of a Sabiá,Footnote 6 but cannot measure its charm”.
Our paths are full of details, peculiarities. We chose, through the short narratives guided by Benjamin (2000), to deliver our experiences fluidly, without minimizing the flavors, colors, aromas, and sounds of everyday living. In line with Brown (2016, p. 11), we present ourselves as storytellers, as we believe: “[…] that the most valuable knowledge about human behavior is what is based on people's life experiences”. With narratives, we seek to weave our emotions, encounters, disparities, and intuitions in a handcrafted way … Inspired by Benjamin (2000, p. 61), who poetically reports the daily lives in which telling along with listening were immersed in the same life:
Each morning informs us about the news of the universe. However, we are poor in remarkable stories. This is because no fact has reached us that has not been impregnated with explanations. In other words: almost nothing that happens benefits the narrative, everything reverts to the benefit of the information. Indeed, it is already half the art of narrating, releasing a story of explanations as it is reproduced.
With traditional people, there is a chance to hear and be heard, stories run, walk, dive, float from one mouth to another … The riverside people have the art of intensely narrating and conveying details for each fact … It is impossible not to be incited with shock, tears, laughter, fear, to be moved by their life narratives that also speak of death, enchanted beings, with so many other plots (Manfroi & Marinho, 2019). It is as if each word were embedded in the space and time necessary to let the listener take heed with attentive senses.
By understanding the power of what we live, we narrate the subtleties of our pleasurable craft with inspiration in every riverside family who shared their homes, food, love, memories, individual and collective lives. We were traversed, as subjects of experience brought by Larrosa (2015, p. 26): "[…] he is an "ex-post" subject. From the standpoint of experience, the important thing is neither the “position” […], nor the "opposition" […], nor the "imposition" […], nor the "proposition" […], but the "exposition", our way of "exhibition", with all of the vulnerability and risk". In our research movements, we were left with heightened senses at every moment, which did not mean that there were no deadlines, but that the quality of presence in the field has always been our pursuit. It is that moment to look, feel, and exchange with one another. We were not in a rush to apply a research tool and go on to the next house. There was time to listen, laugh or cry as a story was told, learning about their everyday lives … Over time, we became part of the plot: "Remember that day we crossed the river when we were going down to deliver fish?!” or “That time we met in the city was the last time I repaired the boat's engine". Making us feel what Pieper (1998, p.50) escreveu: “[…] simply looking at something, gazing at it,’taking it in,’ is merely to open our eyes to receive the things that present themselves to us, that come to us without any need for ‘effort’ on our part to ‘possess’ them.”
Some of the stories that we shared with the riverine people, professional partners, our family members, and a few others were immersed, waiting for an opportunity to emerge. They are narratives that were suspended in air, orally (including pauses and silences), which we intend to share with you now … They are fragments of our lives in our moments at work, also considered leisure time, dialoguing with that of Stebbins (2014, p. 42):
In short, occupational devotees and serious leisure enthusiasts intensely love the same activity, looking for a highly attractive job or leisure career. For this reason, work and leisure are not, contrary to common sense, totally separate, nor are they mutually antagonistic spheres of modern life. The close relationship examined here between serious leisure and occupational devotion demonstrates that there can be pleasure in work as well as leisure, and that pleasure is, in the end, qualitatively equal in both worlds. In other words, such pleasure is a shared feeling, in which the essential activities at work and leisure that are so strongly attractive - and that feed pleasure - are very similar, and in some cases, literally identical.
Given this craft, it is as if we have our “favorite toy” in hand.Footnote 7 And with it, we have an eminent desire to play, that is, to give ourselves to it deeply. In this sense, we understand that playing “[…] allows you to connect with what is alive within you, others and objects. Playing cannot have an end: it is life expressing itself” (Meirelles, 2018, p. 02). Thus, we can say that we play by researching and research while playing, we have been living the research and researching the living.
5 Narratives that Tell of Experiences Lived Deep in the Pantanal: Once Upon a Time …
Getting on the boat, putting our lives in the hands of the experts, and the wisdom of Jaburu, also knowing that mechanical and natural events could arise, was an adventure we chose to live in our craft. Recalling our stays in the Pantanal, the memories of experiences lived there emerge.
We arrived in the Pantanal with our personal stories, but with the intention of getting closer to the experiences lived by the riverside families. This wish was not so simple to grant, as we had to allow time for our bodies to adapt, for stories to unfold, for conversations to flow. Meeting one another, in an unknown environment, is not based on fixed plans and strategies, but the enjoyment that the river itself in its course teaches.
We did not claim to be sure of any theory written a priori. We were willing to listen, observe, and learn from the Pantanal and its people. We believe that even before looking at the specific record of our research, there was a way to approach, which would only be possible, with the delicacy of the body, with the silencing of expectations, with respect for extended time as mutual trust was being established.
This way of researching was not carried out linearly, but lived in multiple directions, so the narratives we share in this autoethnography follow the order of our desires to tell, as a conversation in which we are dialoguing with the facts that are reborn to measure that the words of one draw the words another, which then draw others, and so on. This record is also in communion with the many conversation circles we participated in during our stays.
The fluidity of what was experienced called for narratives composed of the details of unique, subjective, individual, and collective moments. Therefore, it was not up to us to bring a sequence that was justified by a logic of theme, content, time … They can be read on the path you select. We invite you to embark on our occupational devotees…
One of the accommodations that houses researchers who go to the Pantanal is the Ecoa support house, located in Serra do Amolar ... A cozy place. We had light from 7 pm to 10 pm, when we depended on the generator; today we have solar energy. After arriving at the house, bathing, and having dinner, conversations without the time and desire to finish would occur, while charging the devices/equipment to be used in the research. One night, I went to brush my teeth. There was a very strong taste in the water, so I called my other colleagues and discovered, by candlelight, that I was rinsing my mouth with water and diesel oil. The water in the house was river water, a vessel had passed and left traces of oil ... as well as its taste ...
I arrived in Corumbá on a Friday. On Saturday, I woke up early, Jaburu gave me a ride to the university. We took a borrowed boat, and went to the port. We loaded the vessel with our things and supplies. We filled the tank and were ready to go! We started our journey up the river, but after 20 minutes, Jaburu started looking back towards the engine. He repeated this gesture a few times. I waited and asked:
- What happened?
- It's not slowing down
- Do you think it's better to go back?
- Better to fix it in town. Because it’s more difficult to find a mechanic up the river (in the middle of the Pantanal).
We turned back. We stayed at the port for about three hours, waiting for the mechanic to repair the engine. Until they thought it would be better to take the boat to the workshop. At nightfall, Jaburu called to say that the boat was ready. Ugh! The next morning, we managed to finally leave and arrive at our destination.
In the process of researching, we went from house to house, stopping the boat in the ravine, we got out, and we talked. Sometimes we drank tereréFootnote 8 or coffee, and ate some delicacies that were offered. During one visit, we waited for two hours for bread to bake on the wood stove as our host Rose insisted that we taste it. When it was ready, she placed several loaves of bread on plates Then, we went to sit in the shade of a mango tree, where one of the oldest in the community, Seu Severino, who spoke very little and quietly, was resting. She left us a broom to scare away the chicken that used to steal bread. Jaburu, another researcher, and I were eating warm, delicious bread. We had to scare the chicken away about three times when finally everything was quiet. Until the damn thing came from behind very quickly, and grabbed the bread, which I had only realized when I saw the dog chewing. We looked at the dog with the bread in his mouth, then looked at each other, laughed, and said nothing, keeping it a secret ... Rose did not need to hear about it, she already knew ...
During one of the six-hour boat trips, I drew the river route in a field notebook, marking the boats we passed, as well as the houses. Arriving home, I went to review my drawings, it had several curves, with few houses ... I built an image of the route.
One day I had the chance to climb one of the hills to watch the sunrise, I had another image ...
When I looked at the house of the riverside people during the flood season, I had another image ...
When I was with the children in the yard, another image came to me ...
Entering the river, I plunged into another image ...
The similarities and differences in conducting research compose the patchwork of these images (Figs. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7).
In our daily research, Jaburu dropped Rafael off at one house, I in another. After a while, he picked us up again. One day, I was in the middle of a “tereré wheel” in a house, listening to many stories. At the sight of the moon, I realized that I had been there for a long time. I asked the family:
- Has Jaburu passed by?
- No, he's coming from over there. Listen to the noise of the engine.
Even though I strained to listen, I could not hear the engine, just a few birds that were on their way to their nests...
It was a short time before the boat hit the bank and they laughed at me...
The first time I went to the Pantanal, we stopped to talk with the family of Dona Geralda and Seu Antônio. We sat on wooden benches. It was very hot that day, so the shade of the mango tree was refreshing. Seu Antônio told stories that mixed humor, joy, sadness, life, and death. I didn't even notice the time passing. When I looked at the canopy of the tree, a feather was falling at the sound of Seu Antônio's voice. Multicolored and slowly descending, making a subtle movement from side to side. It didn't fall on me, not even close, but it was as if it had touched my whole being, showing me that in that place, time is different, waiting is different, listening is different. This magical moment made me think of the unique opportunities to feel, more often, the flavors of experiences, not attributing much meaning to what happens, but what happens to me in these processes.
I stayed at the community school in Barra do São Lourenço. Some children lived there and only saw their families every two months. At that time, there were not many students, so I had the chance to stay with them. One day, I went to play soccer with the kids around lunchtime. The next day Alysson asked me in a conversation:
- Mira, have you looked in the mirror?
They were holding back laughter, perhaps worried about my reaction.
- Your face is so red that I think your forehead will crack open.
Everyone laughed a lot, including me.
This story was remembered and often retold, and of course, followed by inevitable laughter.
The sunburned forehead opened the way to the beginning of a closer relationship.
One of the most difficult periods of the year for local people in the Pantanal is the "dequada". This natural ecological phenomenon happens every year at the beginning of the flood season. The water starts to rise and cover a large quantity of aquatic vegetation, which starts to decompose and decrease the quantity of oxygen in the water. Consequently, thousands of fish die, and the water becomes toxic. With no other options, people continue to drink the river water, so many of them develop diarrhea. When I started my research in the region, many of the local people saw me as a fragile tourist. However, after the day I told them that I had diarrhea due to the toxic water, they changed their opinion of me. From that moment on, I started to be treated with much more respect. It was as if I was part of the community. I still see it as one of the biggest achievements of my life (Fig. 8).
Fig. 8
Hammock in which Rafael slept in the riverside house
We went to the home of Dona Joana and her family, at Binega's landfill. We were greeted with big smiles.
- Mira, did you come to kill mosquitoes?
- Yes, I'm ready for this! But it looks like there aren’t any here!
They laughed a lot; there were more mosquitoes than they’d ever had. Dona Joana continued to speak:
- Have you eaten any fish this time, Mira?
- Not yet. I was hoping to fish tomorrow. They said it's a good time to fish.
- Rayane, get that fish for Mira. The one that is already clean.
He looked at me and said:
- So, you will eat fish.
Rayane arrived with a fish in a bowl.
- Do you want yuca, Mira?
- If you have it, I would like some.
- Gean, get the bag, and give some yuca to Mira.
- Mira, fish is good with yuca.
- I don’t know how to thank you. I’m overwhelmed with joy.
- Afterward I'll pack some to go for you.
- Great!
I arrived at the Ecoa base. I went to the kitchen to show the fish to Edilaine, the darling who cooked for the group. She looked at me and said:
- Is that a “Pintado” fish fillet? Did Dona Joana give it to you?
- She gave it to me. Is it the “pintado” fish fillet?
- She likes you. It is one of the noblest fish and she already cleaned it for you!
The next day, I arrived at Dona Joana's house, not sure if I should pay for the fish, after all, this is their job. Intuitively, I thought I shouldn't. I put some fruit in the bowl. When Rayane saw this, she gave me an approving look.
That was it! I didn't need to do anything else (Fig. 9).
We had organized a travel itinerary that passed by Betinho's house and then continued to Serra do Amolar. On the way, Jaburu remembered that this man had lost his wife less than 15 days ago, so he requested not to make a stop out of respect for the mourning. We are not dealing with research subjects, they are people, with histories, with emotions...
It was a very hot day, so I was sitting under a mango tree sipping tereré with a riverside family. They served me, I drank it, and thanked them for passing the glass to me. After some time, I noticed that they were not serving me anymore. As I was very thirsty, I said that I would like one more. Rayane looked at me and said:
- But you already said, "thank you". When you say that, we no longer serve the person.
With time, we learned about the community’s perceptions and meanings attributed to gestures and words.
The first night in the community was probably the most difficult. When I laid on the bed, I saw several scorpions on the wall. Even though I killed two or three with my walking boots, I knew there were many more around. The guy in the house came over after hearing me hammering the wall from his room. We started to talk about life and the difficulties of living in the Pantanal. He said to me: “living here is difficult, but I love it”. This simple statement completely changed my focus. I started to see the structure of the Pantanal as well as its people.
Local people in the Pantanal are always laughing, and they love the stories where you end up in problematic situations. One day I was helping the owner of the house where I was staying to harvest cassava in his garden. It was the beginning of the flood season and the water started to cover the plantation. However, the water was also covering a nest of “fire ants” very close to the yuca plantations. Suddenly, I realized I was on top of a nest with thousands of fire ants biting my feet. They are called fire ants because their bites burn like fire. I ran away into the river trying to get them off me. My host spent the entire day as well as the next laughing at me. After that, I started to tell this story to other community members before doing the interviews, and like my host, they also laughed for several minutes. This story helped me to open the conversation to subjects that they would not normally discuss if I had asked straight away at the beginning of the conversation. It was the best way to break the ice (Fig. 10).
One night everyone was sleeping, and as usual, I was awake trying to find a better position on the improvised bed. Surprisingly, I heard a strange meowing sound coming from outside. The few cattle the locals kept in the area started to run away and all the dogs began barking. I could not believe it; there was a jaguar no more than 100 meters from my bed. The local people were not bothered because they were used to that. But this was a first-time experience for me. I was not protected at all. The house was made of wood without a lock. I felt a mix of excitement and fear. I imagine that those few minutes will stay with me for the rest of my life.
Researching isolated places has the big advantage of uncovering things that no one has ever seen before. After reading about how people prepare to be sustainable in rural areas, the stories of the Pantanal started to show something completely different from everything that scholars have published before. Local people were not following the theory. Rather, they were doing what the theory said they could not do, even though they were sustainable. I was amazed to see that happening in front of my eyes. It was like finding the tomb of a pharaoh that no one knew existed, which deeply changed the history of Egypt.
Since I started researching in the Pantanal, three people have died. Dona Geralda, Seu Marino, and Robson. These people have never been and will never be numbered, they are people I miss, as I remember their gestures and our shared stories ... I'm glad I met them; they remain in my memories.
After spending time in the Pantanal, we returned to Corumbá, the city where the port of the Paraguay River is located. We needed to send a message to Robson. When we arrived at the house where he stayed when he was in town, we noticed there was an arcade machine. Rafael asked if it was working. We gave him the message, and then spent some time playing and talking with the people who were in the house. After that day, when we met him, he always remembered our jokes. These moments are also research, they are our craft, but also our leisure. They are precious for building trust (Fig. 11).
Few repellents work in the Pantanal, which I learned after the first trip when I came back swollen...
The smell of one of them, which had an effect, was very strong. I used to completely cover myself in repellent before arriving at anyone's house...
One day, I was cooking at a riverside house when the resident said to me:
- I don't like the smell of these researchers ... they have a strong smell!
- Do I smell like that?
- Not you! - She answered.
My careful use of repellent beforehand was worthwhile ...
What do you have to say about your scent in the research field?
When we got back from the Pantanal and arrived in the city, our phones would crash due to all the accumulated messages. Most of the time that we work in the community, the internet was very bad or did not work at all. The only way to let our families know we had arrived was to go to the one public payphone and pray for a signal … only then would it be possible to give a brief "hello".
This fact made us live in unusual situations. Sometimes we were at a riverside house when someone let us know that a family member was on the payphone waiting to talk to us. When we went to take the call, we noticed that people were eavesdropping on the conversation, so when we said something funny, everyone laughed. Our conversations in the Pantanal were always shared … As for secrets? Difficult to tell, and even more difficult to keep.
Food was another communal thing as everything we had was shared with the people. We ate what was offered and we offered what we had. Gradually, we were exchanging flavors and affections with the community. As our stays were not so long, we paid attention to the intervals between one trip and the next. This dynamic dialogue was chosen as Jean Pierre Rossie,Footnote 9 professor and anthropologist, who after years of the study, advised other researchers to arrive and depart from the community frequently, rather than staying for long periods and not returning. The feeling that you will "come back" is latent in the people with whom you live, contributing to a mutual feeling of trust and empathy. This reflection makes us think about the ways we find ourselves in the community as well as the importance of decisions made in the field. Sometimes, these attitudes are based on an imposition of local logistics, or by some tip, or even by intuition.
Upon returning home, the memories persisted of what had happened. Sometimes we laughed out of the blue, just remembering some funny fact. We told these stories to our friends and families, and witnessed the sensations they expressed for each narration. Sharing is an important exercise to feel the Pantanal close again, even though we were now standing somewhere else. Over time, we sat in front of our computers, accompanied by notebooks, photos, videos … The stitching of images was taking shape … We spent hours in this creative process … After living days and days in their company, it was time to recall.
It was not so easy to spend all that time alone, after being so immersed in the collective. In this sense, there were some rituals that we developed, such as portals to access the Pantanal. One of them was the smell of the clothes worn in the field. Even after they had been washed, there was still a mix of the freshness of earth, water, and wind that allowed the sensation of the physical presence of the field again. The other way was to drink tereré (iced tea) at home. For the local people, tereré is a way to share their ideas, experiences and create a sense of trust and reciprocity with other people. In this process, we performed the exercise of organizing memories, so that the feelings experienced may be reflected in the words.
We can say that even the loneliness, which our research craft proposes, is perceived with fond memories. When we would ever have the chance to revisit memories and build a plot about them, still in dialogue with our readings and intuitions after a trip? That is why we understand that this other aspect of our profession is also very pleasurable, as we have the chance to signify and reframe our experiences. Gradually, what has been experienced is materialized with words. We feel like artisans, valuing the process and giving time for the insights, connections, and narratives to emerge.
When writing this article in partnership, we had the desire to talk about leisure, but as the narratives took shape, we ended up sharing our memories, which underpin the way we place ourselves in the field, in the Pantanal, in life, in leisure, in diving at every moment that emerges.
We talked and reflected on what moves us to get on the boat as researchers in the Pantanal. One of them was the possibility of meeting people and accompanying them in their daily lives. The way of life that they lead along the banks of the Paraguay River and its tributaries deeply inspire us. This is due to their capacity to constantly adapt, read the sky to predict climatic conditions, listen attentively to the noises and silences of that territory, as well as the delicacy with which they blend their great home, the Pantanal. In addition to many other peculiarities that we discovered with each riverbank and its people that we got to know.
Another enchanting characteristic was the unpredictability. We were pleased to be in this place where, in order to survive, humans must adapt to the environment, putting themselves in the movement of the waters, the winds, and the storms. There is a research body that is being permeated by intense processes and experiences … it takes constant presence to be in the Pantanal. We learned that one does not go into a river, but rather falls into a river, as there is no preparation, no rehearsal, just surrender, total involvement.
We discovered that, a priori, women feel more comfortable talking to a female researcher and men open up more to male researchers. That invitations to enter the homes happen slowly and that they are a sign of trust. That black clothes attract mosquitoes. That riverside families live in the Pantanal because they feel part of that territory, despite all the adversities. That there is a fish called Jaú that smells like carrion, even though it lives inside the river.
So, we went there to learn about the Pantanal. Quite possibly, in a few years, we will have even more stories to share. We can say that in the last year, due to the pandemic, we were unable to be as present as we were before. We miss the gatherings, the laughter, the stories, the food. The latest news from the families are now relayed through phone calls and WhatsApp messages. Even in this way, we have managed to help some people in this period of a pandemic and devastating wildfires. At this time, we keep the hope alive for that moment yet to come with warm embraces, exchanged smiles, and continued stories marked by respect, joy, trust, and affection.
The geographical distance amplifies the desire to be in the Pantanal as there is no endpoint, because we are aware and feel that our craft is an occupational devotee (STEBBINS, 2014) that is strengthened in our memories as well as the longing to be in conversation circles full of laughter, amazement, and discoveries. We feel that our bonds remain. Just as the song of a bird, the smell of cooked beans, a mosquito bite transport us to the moments we have lived, to the places we have traveled, to the meetings we have enjoyed … Life leads, we surrender and whatever happens, will happen … (Fig. 12).
Ecology and Action (Ecoa) is a non-governmental organization (NGO) that has been operating in the Pantanal region for 30 years. At this time, it contributed to the riverside communities having access to their rights guaranteed by law, therefore, it has the trust and partnership of the Pantanal people to develop projects.
Song “Back in Bahia”, from the album “Gilberto Gil ao vivo Back in Bahia”, released in 1972.
The most popular transport in the region is the “rabeta”, which is like a small boat with a small powerful engine, which makes the ride easier, without the need to row. They are operated via diesel and very economical. Due to the low fuel cost, some travel to Corumbá. The trip takes about 12 h downstream—towards the current – and 14 h upstream.
The charters are vessels, or "chapas", that transport people and varied loads. By transporting live loads, such as cattle and heavy agricultural machinery, construction materials, and others, they become very slow, so it takes about 15 h to reach Paraguay Mirim and around 36 h to reach Barra. The cost is around R$100.00 per passenger, although it is one of the most affordable alternatives for the riverside population, it is still not very accessible.
Song "Ciranda Pantaneira" composed by Grupo Acaba from the album titled "Grupo Acaba Cantadores do Pantanal" released in 2016.
Sabiá is a small Bird that lives in Brazil, also found in the Pantanal region.
Tereré is a drink prepared in the following way: dry crushed plants and cold water are placed in a glass. With the help of a straw that has a filter at the tip, the water is sucked up, resulting in a taste similar to iced tea. After finishing one’s turn, that is, drinking all the water, the glass must be refilled and passed to the next person in the circle. Hence, it is referred to as the “tereré wheel”.
Speech delivered online to postgraduate students, by Casa Tombada, in São Paulo (Brazil) on May 30, 2019.
An excerpt from the song Espelho D’água, composed by Almir Sater and Renato Teixeira, released on Album AR in 2015.
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MM contributed in the data collection, data analysis and writing, RC contributed in the data collection, data analysis and writing, AM contributed to data analyse and writing.
Manfroi, M.N., Chiaravalloti, R.M. & Marinho, A. Poetic Narratives of Researchers in Brazil’s Pantanal: Tessitures of Experiences Lived.
Int J Sociol Leis5, 119–142 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1007/s41978-021-00089-0
