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A river-length appeal before COP30

After weeks tracing the veins of South America from glacier-chilled headwaters to the tropical mouth of the Amazon, a boat carrying dozens of Indigenous leaders pulled into Belém a day before the UN climate talks begin. Their message is straightforward and urgent: decisions about forests and rivers must center the people who have safeguarded them for generations.

“We’re not here to chase funds,” said K’iche leader Lucia Ixchiu from Guatemala, who traveled with roughly 60 others. “We want an agreement that stops treating Indigenous territories as sacrifice zones.” Her words echoed over the water as the vessel pushed through the Brazilian stretch of the Amazon, a living corridor where the climate crisis, extractive industries and community rights collide.

Territories under pressure

A growing body of research warns that community lands are increasingly overlapped by oil and gas blocks, mining concessions and logging permits. In the Amazon alone, a significant portion of Indigenous and local community territories now faces some form of industrial encroachment. The risks extend beyond forests and wildlife: since 2012, watchdogs have recorded well over a thousand environmental defenders across the Amazonian nations, the Congo Basin, Indonesia, Mexico and Central America who have been killed or disappeared for protecting land and water.

For those on the river, governance is as crucial as climate finance—if not more so. “Mother Earth isn’t a marketplace,” Ixchiu said. “Our communities have practiced other ways of living with biodiversity for thousands of years.”

From ice to estuary

The journey’s starting point was not accidental. The Andes, the planet’s longest mountain range, store the vast majority of Earth’s tropical glaciers and feed nearly half of the Amazon River’s flow. Yet the region is warming quickly. According to recent UN water assessments, Andean glaciers have already lost between 30% and 50% of their ice since the 1980s. The travelers chose to begin at the source to underscore how climate change and resource extraction are reshaping water security and downstream life for millions.

Weather mirrored the route: when Ixchiu joined the expedition near the ice, she layered wool and thick jackets; by the time the three-deck wooden boat nosed into Belém, she was stepping ashore in light, short sleeves. On the riverbank, laughter and songs rose into humid air as the group completed a ritual they had performed at the outset—giving thanks and asking permission to pass—through candles, chants, seeds, coca leaves, sweets and a traditional Andean offering of a preserved llama fetus.

Rituals, roadblocks and the “Water Mother”

The flotilla swapped vessels repeatedly, eventually arriving aboard a weathered, three-story boat affectionately called Yaku Mama—Water Mother. Along the way, they convened dialogues and shared films with communities. In Coca, Ecuador, they staged a symbolic “funeral for fossil fuels.” In Manaus, Brazil, they hosted screenings and hands-on workshops, weaving together culture, knowledge and organizing across borders.

River life dictated the tempo: fluctuating water levels, debris and pollution forced delays and reroutes. The stresses mirrored the pressures communities described—land speculation, illegal logging, overlapping concessions and the slow violence of contamination. Each stop became a snapshot of a larger struggle to keep ecosystems intact and community governance respected.

Beyond finance: power and consent

As the climate summit opens, the travelers’ priority is clear: recognition and decision-making power. That includes protection of customary tenure, free, prior and informed consent for any project affecting their lands, and practical support for Indigenous-led stewardship. The argument is both ethical and pragmatic: where Indigenous governance is strong, forests tend to be healthier, fires fewer and biodiversity richer—critical assets for stabilizing the climate.

Celebrations met the boat in Belém—music, shared meals and a round of caipirinhas marked the end of the 30-day voyage. But the mood was not simply festive; it was strategic. The delegation framed this COP as a moment to center the world’s largest rainforest and the peoples who live within it. Despite turbulent geopolitics and painstaking negotiations, Ixchiu said the young leaders on board gave her reasons to hope. “Their commitment to defending their territories is unwavering,” she said. “This is the Amazon’s COP because we are here—claiming the space that is ours.”