Rewa Village locals call them “shadow people” or “short people,” those wild humans still living apart from civilization deep in the Amazon Rainforest. It’s not a fear so much as an awareness—a respect for their relatives who still live in the old ways. They do believe you must keep your spirit strong in at the edges of the territory, however, lest you be molested by spirits.

Some of our Amerindian guides have seen footprints at the falls and scales from fish these uncontacted tribesmen killed with bows. All have heard them whistle like birds from back in the jungle. The guides leave behind half-smoked cigarettes and other offerings in crotches of trees. The cook on my first trip had once seen such a man in the flesh, whom she described as less than 5 feet tall, bowl-cut hair, mud painted, wearing a loincloth, holding a bow. He stepped from behind a tree to reveal himself while the guides and clients worked the water around the cataract. Years before, the father of one of the current guides followed one of these untamed humans beckoning him down a trail. He died unexpectedly a week later; curses implicated. Anecdote and ghost story blend like the converging Rewa and Kwitaro rivers, muddy yet mesmerizing. 

I wrote for MidCurrent following my first visit to river basin that it “demands my return like a curse.” I was back 11 months later, this time with filmmaker Jesse Males of Backwater Productions and globetrotting angler April Vokey in tow.

I’d been captivated by these stories of the primitive peoples residing upriver who have resisted coming into the fold. But there is, perhaps appropriately, little information available regarding Guyana’s uncontacted populations. With more than 70% of the nation remaining as virgin Amazon Rainforest, there is a simply great deal that modern humans don’t know. Rewa Villagers carry a mindfulness and unspoken peace with their primal brethren, sharing fishing grounds during the dry season for generations.

Just over the mountains and equator into Brazil, they take their Isolados rather seriously. It’s a tradition dating back to Marshall Candido Rondón, the explorer and ambassador to the natives who famously completed a treacherous first descent of the Rio Dúvida (River of Doubt) with President Theodore Roosevelt in 1914, among countless other feats of exploration and diplomacy. The modern National Indigenous Peoples Foundation (FUNAI) seeks to protect Brazil’s uncontacted populations and their territory from incursions by black-market loggers, gold miners, poachers, and drug traffickers—as well as disease and influence from even well-meaning parties.

Though a large proportion of the 150-or-so uncontacted tribes remaining on Earth reside within the Amazon, western Papua New Guinea and elsewhere within Indonesia still contains some 40 such groups. The most famous isolated community, however, might be the one on North Sentinel Island in the Indian Ocean—where explorers and missionaries occasionally go to get themselves killed. No such violence has transpired here.

Guyana’s Rewa Village sits at the confluence of its eponymous river and the Rupununi, just above where they join the mighty Essequibo flowing north to the Caribbean. It’s the Amazon Rainforest but not the Amazon River Basin, sharing many fish species but sporting some of its own. The community was rather isolated itself before international interest in preserving tropical rainforest ecosystems arrived in the early 2000 with grants to help build the Rewa Ecolodge and attendant tourism operation. Indifly and other organizations have helped promote guiding and catch-and-release sport fishing practices, while the residents continue to sustainably eat wild fish with almost every meal.

Introducing currency (and Internet) into a community that once thrived on “self-help” and collectivism is never without its consequences, but the conservationist ethic that outside interest helped promote is truly impressive. The 360 villagers are the first line of defense against illegal logging and poaching, often serving as evangelists sharing the wonders of their jungle with visitors and anglers from around the world.

Payara—the vampire fish—capture travelers’ attention immediately. Violent takes, acrobatics, and impossibly long fangs that insert into their skulls render a compelling sportfish. Butterfly peacock bass, highly reminiscent of our large- and smallmouth, are plentiful enough to make a reliable shore lunch while providing an enthralling topwater experience, often alongside the equally awesome arowana and bicuda. It can be difficult to not catch big black piranhas while trying to catch literally anything else, but their herbivorous cousin the pacu is fickle enough to earn the moniker “jungle permit.” Half a dozen species of large and fantastically colorful catfishes lurk in nearly every deep bend, just waiting for cut bait to drift by.

Arapaima gigas—the largest freshwater fish species on Earth that carries conventional scales—is the undisputed marquee, of course. You’d be hard pressed to find a serious angler who doesn’t want to sight-cast toward 9-foot, 400-pound leviathans in relatively small lakes, lagoons, and oxbows. These dragons breathe air to thrive through hypoxic, low-water conditions, frequently making a big target for sight-cast flies—if you can slide a canoe close enough.

Of course, some exceptionally inquisitive (or irritating) visitors need to know more about the primitive culture upriver.

On the eleventh and final night of my first voyage up the Rewa, I pushed head guide Terry Haynes to tell me more of his insights into these mysteries. The laconic Macushi and Wapishana jungle guides are not inclined toward talkativeness but will sometimes open up about topics within their unique knowledge set.

Eventually I asked whether he thought the uncontacted tribesmen were around when we were at the falls or up in their village in the mountains he’d described.

“Oh, they were there,” he replied. “They saw you.”

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About the Author:

Sam Lungren is a writer, producer, expedition leader, and director of production for MidCurrent. Follow his adventures on Instagram @samlungrenmedia.