ASUNCI脫N, Paraguay (AP) 鈥 Many Mak谩 traditions have slowly faded. Yet a few elders among these Paraguayan Indigenous people recall how their songs imitated birds.
鈥淢en used to say that, as they sang, they travelled to Iguazu Falls or to the mountains,鈥 said Gustavo Torres, a Mak谩 teacher based near Paraguay's capital, Asunci贸n. 鈥淭heir songs imitated nature.鈥
Next to him smiled Elodia Serv铆n, who only speaks the Mak谩 language but had Torres help as a translator. Her skin is covered in wrinkles and she has forgotten her age, but a memory sticks: A long time ago, when she was healthy and strong, she loved dancing in Fray Bartolom茅 de las Casas, a territory her people are now fighting to get back.
The land in dispute is an 828-acre (335 hectare) terrain that the Mak谩 claim ownership over. Paraguay鈥檚 government has rejected most of their arguments, designating part of it to build a bridge connecting two cities across the Paraguay River.
Fray Bartolom茅, as the Mak谩 call it, was offered to them through a decree issued in 1944 by strongman Higinio Mor铆nigo, then Paraguay's president. It was meant as a present, the Mak谩 have said, to acknowledge their courage and the role they played during the Chaco War against Bolivia in the 1930s.
鈥淭hat place is sacred for us,鈥 said Mak谩 leader Mateo Mart铆nez, 65. 鈥淚t was a gift we thanked God for because it was given through people that loved us.鈥
His ancestors, Mart铆nez said, guided soldiers through the mountains and quenched their hunger and thirst during the war.
鈥淥nly the Indigenous people knew where to find water,鈥 he said. 鈥淚f a Paraguayan soldier had gotten lost there alone, he would have died.鈥
Aside from the decree, details of the gift were never put on paper. The ownership titles were issued in the 2000s, and once they were, less than half of the promised acres were granted to the Mak谩.
Officials have said that a piece of land was indeed given to the community by Mor铆nigo, but its size was never determined nor were its coordinates precise. Both sides meet on a regular basis to discuss a potential new agreement, though no consensus has been reached yet.
鈥淲e are open to talking,鈥 Mart铆nez said. 鈥淏ut the government won鈥檛 listen to us or tries to deceive us.鈥
The Mak谩 are one of the 19 Indigenous communities of Paraguay. In the South American country of 6.8 million, more than 140,000 are Indigenous people. The latest census from 2022 estimates that around 2,600 Mak谩 are distributed in both urban and rural areas.
Mariano Roque Alonso, where Serv铆n and 1,600 other Mak谩 live, is located across the Paraguay River, not too far from Fray Bartolom茅. Floods forced them to relocate in the 1980s, and they haven鈥檛 been able to move back since.
Younger generations have learned Spanish, but their native language remains predominant. A few steps from the Baptist church most of the community attends, the prayers painted on a wall are in Mak谩.
鈥淥ur elders had other beliefs,鈥 Mart铆nez said. 鈥淭hey used to believe in the forces of nature. They prayed to the Venus star. To the moon for good health and crops.鈥
Among their most treasured traditions, the Mak谩 still make a feast when a young woman transitions from puberty to adulthood. Men drink chicha, made of fermented corn, or fight as part of the celebrations. Women like Serv铆n sing.
鈥淥ur songs come from our ancestors,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 now want to bequeath them to younger generations. To my daughters and granddaughters.鈥
Many like her 鈥 who sell bags and other embroidered products 鈥 make a living from craftsmanship.
Patricio Colman, 63, produces necklaces, bracelets, arrows and bows. He, too, grew up in Fray Bartolom茅 and recalls his people鈥檚 long-gone traditions.
鈥淲hen hunters were still alive, they gathered to go hunting and stayed up to three months in the mountains,鈥 Colman said. 鈥淏ut no one does that anymore.鈥
Back in the day, he said, the Mak谩 had various leaders. One for hunting, one for fishing, one for youth and one for dancing. Now Mart铆nez is the only one left.
鈥淓ven then, when officials used to visit, the distribution of the territory was unclear,鈥 Colman said. 鈥淭here had always been a threat of invasion.鈥
The Mak谩 not only weep for the loss of the land itself, but the distance keeping them from their loved ones buried in Fray Bartolom茅. Among them is Juan Belaieff, a Russian soldier and cartographer who mapped the region during the Chaco War. According to Mart铆nez, then-elders thought of him as a white deity who served as a link between the community and God.
鈥淭hey loved him deeply, and he was venerated by our grandparents,鈥 the leader said.
Non-Mak谩 people might find it hard to spot their cemetery. With no tombstones or crosses on-site, officials have doubted their claims.
鈥淲e are a different culture, though,鈥 Mart铆nez said. 鈥淲hen a Mak谩 perishes, we don鈥檛 use a cross.鈥
The community does dig graves for loved ones who have recently died. Relatives cover the bodies with a cloak and the person鈥檚 belongings, but no other rituals are performed and graves are not marked.
鈥淩elatives feel the absence so profoundly that we don鈥檛 do any ceremonies or console each other,鈥 Mart铆nez said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a moment of respect.鈥
The Mak谩 now bury their people in Quemkuket, about 11 miles (18 kilometers) from their current settlement, but they hope to eventually get their ancestors鈥 remains back in one place.
鈥淭he Mak谩 are warriors, courageous warriors,鈥 Mart铆nez said. 鈥淲e have been fighting for this for five or six years and have no intention of ever giving up.鈥
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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP鈥檚 with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Mar铆a Teresa Hern谩ndez, The Associated Press