The boat comes to a halt, shuddering against the dirt bank that rises from the edge of the Ucayali River. Sixto, tanned and with a frown cutting deep furrows across his forehead, jumps ashore. He strides up to a flat area dotted with banana plantations, yucca crops and scattered foliage. He raises his hand and waves. He then follows a path that penetrates a wall of trees, passes through mudflats and traces the undergrowth that thickens the forest. He doesn’t speak. He knows where to go, and that’s all that’s needed. At intervals he says, barely whispering: “It won’t be long now.” During each stretch, as he keeps up his pace, Sixto scans the horizon, although it’s always the same scene of trees and scattered green. The dense jungle he passes through lies in Tahuanía district, Atalaya province, in the Peruvian Amazon. Thirty-four minutes into this trek along this tangled route, the roof formed by the treetops suddenly opens up to reveal a huge rectangle of bare earth. “It is 985 meters [3,232 feet], a big ‘cancha’ [field],” he whispers, and points to the other end: “We’ve arrived.” No drug planes have taken off yet from this clandestine airstrip. This stretch was prepared five years ago, but with the COVID-19 outbreak, there was no need for traffickers to find new ways to get their drug shipments out, Sixto recalls, now less tense, more talkative. He was one of the young men who prepared the land after it was cleared. He…This article was originally published on Mongabay
Início » Narco airstrips beset Indigenous communities in Peruvian Amazon
