Da Silva was one of nearly a dozen students in the Amazonian community of Vila Alencar, 600 kilometers west of Manaus, participating in a poster competition, one of the highlights of Earth Day ceremonies. Although naive in execution, the posters were true to art's most primordial purpose: to make sense out of the world and communicate to others. The students drew what they knew-pink dolphins, red monkeys, lumpy sea cows, prehistoric-looking fish placidly feeding on fruit, bright flowers and trees of a kaleidoscope of forms. They showed the warmth of the sun's rays, the rain falling from the clouds, the fish foraging in the flooded forest. They also drew people and domesticated animals, but on the same scale as the natural plants and animals.

The drawings depicted a very complex and special environment. All the plants and animals in this part of the Amazon must adjust to the annual ebb and flow of the mighty river. During the low water months, the people plant cassava and corn in the clearings and catch fish where the receeding waters leave them concentrated and exposed. In the other half of the year, dry land practically disappears, and life becomes more difficult.

Called a várzea, or flooded forest, the unique ecosystem surrounding Vila Alencar is part of a reserve managed by the Mamiraurá Civil Society, a nongovernmental organization that received funding from the IDB-supported National Environment Program.

It so happens that Earth Day in the Amazon falls in the middle of the high water season. The schoolhouse, its floor boards almost lapped by the brown water, was ringed by dugout canoes and aluminium skiffs, like horses tied to a hitching post.

The audience applauded as Da Silva finished, and others stood up to take the floor, some speaking confidently, using dramatic gestures, others shyly, their voices barely audible. The audience strained to see every detail and murmured agreement with the interpretations offered.

Then the ceremony ended, and the people set out for home in their skiffs and dugouts, past the turimá trees, laden with fruit.

--Roger Hamilton