Indigenous groups survive in isolation in Peru, including the Mascho Piro, who in recent months have begun reaching out. But some worry about the consequences: ‘If they live with us, they risk losing everything they ever knew’
Emerging from the mist-shrouded forest at dawn, 11 naked figures wander across a stony beach alongside the fast-flowing Upper Madre de Dios river.
From a clapboard government checkpoint perched on the opposite side of the river, Romel Ponciano – a protection agent from Peru’s ministry of culture – shouts out: “The brothers are here – the Nomole are on the beach.”
Together with two colleagues, he makes his way down to the riverside and clambers into a launch which splutters into motion, chugging against the current to reach the far bank.
The boat has scarcely pulled ashore when the women in the group climb in: one is several months pregnant, another carries a baby. Children haul themselves onto Ponciano’s back, taking turns at piggyback; one of the men playfully tugs at the agent’s T-shirt.