O’rebuta Yxula Project: The Birth of the Forest
My name is Breno Amajunepá. I am an Indigenous person of the Balatiponé people. My people’s territory is located near the municipality of Barra do Bugres, in the state of Mato Grosso, Brazil.
I am an International Relations student and currently part of Engajamundo, a network of young socio-environmental activists in Brazil. It was as a representative of this organization that I learned about the Restoration Stewards program. I am also a researcher with the Youth for Climate research group, an initiative of the Amazon Environmental Research Institute (IPAM), which gave rise to my climate adaptation and restoration project in my territory.
As an Indigenous person, the environmental cause has always been part of my life. For my people, the land has never been something separate from us. It is home, memory, future; the territory is our mother.
I entered the world of socio-environmental work just over three years ago. Since then, I have had incredible experiences, from volunteer work to involvement with renowned institutions.
Throughout my journey, I came to understand that many of the environmental problems we see today are not just about nature, but about people. About who gets to decide, who is heard, and who is left out. Seeing territories being destroyed, rivers drying up, and communities being ignored made me realize I wanted to be part of the efforts to build something different.
My restoration project was built collectively with the community in the Umutina-Balatiponé territory, seeking to regenerate landscapes of the Cerrado and the Amazon—two biomes present in my territory.
They are living places, full of history, yet marked by the environmental impacts of climate change and policies that almost never arrive to protect those who live there.
Youth for Climate members. Photo: IPAM
The restoration project we developed is built from the ground up. Our activities emerged from the initiative of the Amazon Environmental Research Institute (IPAM), which brought together 17 young people from the Brazilian Amazon to join the Youth for Climate research group. The goal of this program was to develop climate adaptation projects in our territories, given that we are underserved by public environmental policies.
The project began in the first semester of 2025, and training took place throughout the year. As it is a joint construction with the community, the first step involved identifying the main impacts of climate change in our territories—the consequences, who is affected by environmental impacts, and how. From this, we then envisioned actions and goals for climate adaptation.
Together with some representatives of my people, the project O’rebuta Yxula (Birth of the Forest) was born. The project addresses our myths of origin of the Balatiponé people, the location of our territory, and the biomes that compose it.
Collectively, we identified our traditional knowledge of soil management, planting, and harvesting based on the lunar calendar, where the moon’s phases guide us in planting, and other time markers. This ancestral knowledge guides the ideal times for clearing the forest and planting, as well as the markers that indicate the rainy and dry seasons, and cold and hot periods.
Through this project, the main consequences of the environmental crisis in our territory were identified as rising temperatures and changes in the rain cycle, which intensify fires and cause prolonged droughts in our rivers.
These changes affect our way of life and our cultural practices, such as traditional Timbó fishing, also depriving people of different generations from having a closer relationship with nature. The use of time markers was also affected—through which we identify the seasons based on animal behavior.
From this process of listening and building, goals and actions were developed to address the impacts caused by climate change in our territory. These actions range from ensuring the preservation of fruit-bearing, medicinal, and craft-making plants, to environmental education and strengthening actions already taking place in the territory.
Restoring our springs and reforesting areas degraded and affected by fire were also identified as priority actions.
This work is about reconnecting people with the territory. We work with young people, students, leaders, and allies who believe restoration must have people at its center.
Here in the territory, environmental education and political articulation already exist, and now we need people and institutions that support local initiatives that have existed for a long time but almost never receive visibility or support.
Students from Julá Paré School in reforestation activities. Photos: Luana Calomezoré
None of this happens alone. There is a network of people walking together, making mistakes, learning, and trying to do restoration the best way possible. They are young people who carry stories similar to mine—of struggle and also of hope. We are motivated because we know that if it’s not us taking the lead, many things will continue to be decided without our voices.
What moves me and everyone in this work is care. Caring for the land, caring for people, caring for the future. We believe restoring is not just planting trees. It’s listening to us who live here. It’s respecting traditional knowledge. It’s understanding that there is no climate solution without social justice.
I want the world to know that these landscapes are not empty, backward, or available for exploitation. The Cerrado is more than a dryland—it is water, food, and life. The Amazon is not just a distant forest—it is people, culture, and resistance. When these places are destroyed, it’s not just nature that loses; everyone does.
Youth-led restoration is so important because we carry urgency in our bodies. We are a generation that grew up seeing crisis after crisis, but also learned to organize, communicate, and create networks. We blend technology with ancestry, science with lived experience, activism with affection. And that changes everything.
In the territory, existing initiatives start from Julá Paré School. As an Indigenous school with differentiated education as its pillar, the curriculum includes cultural and agroecological practice subjects, allowing for direct activities to take place within the territory.
The school leads community cleanup efforts, where people voluntarily come together to clean the territory, remove trash, and care for the streams.
Additionally, the school has a small nursery of native Amazon and Cerrado plants and plants these species in the community or in fire-affected areas. This nursery allows planting near springs, understanding that keeping these areas reforested is essential for maintaining river health, which has been directly affected by drought.
A dried out Stream 18, the main stream crossing the Umutina territory. Photo: Breno Amajunepá
The challenge in these restoration practices is the lack of technical knowledge, which ends up limiting our actions. Furthermore, as mentioned, our rivers are the most affected by drought. The main stream that runs through the center of the territory—part of the childhood of many generations—has been completely drying up since 2022, something that didn’t happen before.
This also reflects a massive cultural loss. As children, Stream 18 was where we learned to swim. Our bays were where we practiced Timbó fishing, held big celebrations, true parties building fellowship among people, where the community mobilized to prepare jolorukwá (traditional drink), humataká (manioc flour), and jukuputu (tapioca flatbread).
Unfortunately, due to extreme droughts, these practices are being lost.
Timbó fishing, carried out in one of the bays of the Umutina territory. Photo: Linda Amajunepá
Due to this new reality, the desire to do something became urgent. As I had no references of people or even institutions formally working on environmental issues, it was only when I entered university that I began to dive into the struggle for environmental preservation.
So, I started engaging in causes, joining networks, institutions, and programs that work to protect and preserve the environment and the people within these territories.
It was by walking with this desire to protect my territory and its natural wealth, protect my people, and keep our culture alive, that I arrived where I am today: a young Indigenous student, committed to my people, who has been in important discussion spaces like COPs, research networks, and projects with environmental, social, and cultural themes—always carrying my roots and my people with me.
Caring for the territory is a collective responsibility. It is done with an open heart, even when it’s tiring. It is about believing there is still time to restore not only landscapes, but relationships. And when young people occupy this space, it stops being just a project and becomes a path.
I want to thank you for the opportunity to be part of Restoration Stewards. I am very happy and excited to learn, contribute, and exchange experiences throughout this process, which will surely be beautiful.
Paykwrypyá (Thank you).