It was a cloudy morning at the Chapada dos Veadeiros where we were gathered to learn from the Xavante People. Forecast was predicting rain, and we could hear and see it coming through the lighting and sound of thunder around us.

For the Xavante People, the entire day was a continuous movement of preparation leading toward the eventing event, when they would sit with us around the fire to tell us the story of how their people came about. 

Something about the rain I noticed, changed the way we walked on the land that day. With that, I realized that rain wasn't only a natural phenomena, but a feeling and a relationship that we must listen to and respect.

In the afternoon a group of non-indigenous women gathered around the Xavante women while they prepared the yuca for dinner that evening. While we sat and observed the way they peeled and pounded the root vegetable until it turned into flour, we could hear thunders in the far distance.

We looked at one of the Xavante women and pointed to the sky, indicating rain was coming soon. The Indigenous woman, who didn’t speak our language, understood what we were trying to say, and while looking up did a sweeping gesture with her palm facing the sky and a swoosh sound with her mouth.

I remember I kept staring at the Xavante woman in wonder. I understood at that moment that she had a relationship with rain beyond my comprehension.

The evening approached, we gathered in their traditional house to have a feast. They cooked fish wrapped in banana tree leaves, and toasted the yuca with spices to make farofa. 

After dinner, we started to prepare for storytelling time. As I stepped outside the Xavante house and walked on the land, I looked up to check the sky. Lightning, fast moving dark clouds and thunder surrounded us creating quite special effect in the sky.

I kept hearing people’s comments about what time the rain would finally reach us. There were many speculations while people kept checking with neighborhood towns for what their current forecasts were. Everywhere around us was raining, so it was logical to conclude rain would reach us at some point, but truly no one was certain, except maybe the Xavantes.

No concern or thought of rain changed the course of where we were going. We could have decided to gather in the communal indigenous space, but no thought of that seemed to have crossed the Xavante’s minds.

So finally we sat around the fire and started to hear the stories from cacique Sumené - the leader of the Xavante People of the aldeia Ripá - about how their people came about on earth, told in their own native language.

The guests were silenced and attentive to the sound coming out of the cacique's mouth. Only fire cracking in the background. It was the feeling of his words, his body movements and hand gestures that made it possible for us to understand the story in a mystical way.

Sumené held a borduna while he shared the memories of his people with us. A borduna is a long and thick wooden stick with a pointy edge on the bottom that one holds it touching the ground while they have the right of speech, as if the wisdom being shared was coming from the contact of the borduna with the earth.

Everything about indigenous peoples, as I was constantly being reminded of, contained mysteries that often left me in awe. 

Suddenly something above our circle called my senses. I must have felt it. The image of the Xavante woman’s gesture while pounding the yuca came to my mind. So I looked up.

While everyone was hypnotized by the story that was being told, I was mesmerized by the sky above us.

A perfect circle of starry dark blue sky exactly above us, geometrically calculated with the campfire in the center of it. Everything else was dark gray clouds carried with lighting and probably pouring rain.

At that moment I thought: am I the only one seeing it? I looked around the faces circling the fire, all of them were staring at the cacique's face. 

How’s that possible, my thoughts in awe kept wondering. 

I couldn’t resist not sharing my experience. I turned to a new friend I had met during the days we were spending with the Xavantes, and whispered: ‘look up!”.

She did. I kept looking at her face to see if she would be as in awe as I was. She looked back at me with wonder, her mouth and eyes wide open told me that. Then I knew it. 

We turned back to Sumené to finish listening to the story.

When he finished, he went back to sharing some of the Xavantes teachings. I remember him saying that the Indigenous peoples know things that they are not authorized by spirit to use, so they live with the knowledge and with the respect for the time when they are allowed to use it.

I went to bed right after that. From my cabin I could still hear voices and steps outside from the collective movement towards rest. 

It was the middle of the night when suddenly I woke up with the sound of the rain pouring on the on the earth.

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Text by: Marina Szarfarc
Photography: Raíssa Azeredo