HONORIA, Peru — Jacqueline Flores sits cross-legged on a wooden platform inside a dim Asháninka maloca, the Indigenous longhouse where her dress, painted with geometric patterns, seems to merge with the resin-sweet smell of plants macerating for ceremony. Outside, the Boiling River murmurs. Inside, her voice rises in a long, trembling ícaro, part prayer, part medicine, part declaration of her identity. This South American ancestral colloquialism for ‘magic song’ serves her a specific purpose, she says: to anchor herself to something older than memory. “I’m a student of the plants,” she says, “to help humanity and people who need to ‘heal’.” In the ‘80s, Jacqueline’s ancestors were forced to leave their Asháninka territory in Peru’s central rainforest to escape the violence of the Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) terrorist group. “A lot was lost,” she says. She sees it in the fragmentation of neighboring communities, internal divisions and the disappearance of shared points of reference. Her work — improving her own healing center, Pumayaku, recovering her language and reconnecting with her territory after displacement — is her answer to that loss. In the Peruvian Amazon, erosion of traditional governance is reshaping the forest as powerfully as any force of globalization, according to anthropologist Glenn Shepard. Ancestral culture fades, languages are forgotten, rituals weaken and community guidance fractures, while internal corruption can concurrently become the driving force behind deforestation and the quiet dismantling of Indigenous stewardship. As elder-based authority, ritual discipline and long-term leadership degrade, collective decision-making gives way to document-based control,…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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