It all began in 1997, the year of the Kyoto Protocol. Almir Surui was 22 when he hatched a 50-year plan that was as simple as it was ingenious: The Surui would themselves heal the wounds the loggers had inflicted on their reservation. And within 50 years their forest would be as pristine as it once was. Almir believes this is the tribe's only hope for survival because there had always been some Surui who would cooperate with the logging mafia, some to escape poverty, some out of sheer greed.
The chief's words convinced nearly all the Surui, who avidly began breeding and planting seedlings. Gradually the forest returned. Ignoring the rain and the heat, they planted more and more species: Açai palms, Ipé (trumpet trees), Brazil nut, mahogany. Women, children, and the elderly all lent a hand, clearing scrubland that looks like forest but is no more than brushwood, palm trees, and ferns. They are still planting to this day.
Standing among the Surui, his arms pockmarked with mosquito bites, is a man from Switzerland; Thomas Pizer, from the Aquaverde organization. Pizer recalls how he received an e-mail from Almir Surui six years earlier. The message read: "On your website it says you are involved in the reforestation of the Amazon. If that is true, please help us." Word documents and Excel tables were attached to the e-mail. "I was being sent Excel tables from the heart of the rainforest!" Pizer says with a laugh. He wired the Surui enough money for 500 seedlings. They planted 1,900. "No other indigenous people in all of Brazil has done this much for the revival of their forests," he says.
So far, the Surui have planted 120,000 trees. Another 40,000 are planned to be added this year. Yet despite all their efforts, they are still a long way from Almir's dream of a million new trees -- partly because of persistent attempts at illegal logging. Almir pulls out a piece of paper and sketches the Surui reservation. Next to it he draws a circle. "The authorities gave the loggers a license to cut down trees in this area," he explains, pointing to the circle. "But there are no trees left there anymore, so they come into our reservation and then claim the trees were cut down legally."
Only last week he caught some illegal loggers as they were about to make off with three truckloads of mahogany. The trucks belonged to the regional authorities in the neighboring state of Mato Grosso. "The mayor is involved. That's typical around here," Almir says. He's lost faith in the Brazilian government and in its plan to slash logging by 80 percent by the year 2020. Almir Surui, the chief from the rainforest, now only believes in the power of knowledge.
Three years ago he therefore contacted the company with the greatest store of knowledge: Google, Inc. Wearing a crown of feathers on his head, he entered the company's global headquarters at 1600 Amphitheater Parkway in Mountain View, California, demanding a meeting. They granted him 30 minutes -- and spent three hours talking with him. A few months later, Google came to Lapetanha armed with laptops, satellite telephones, cameras, and video beamers. And the Surui typed their first query about the world into the Google search engine: "Desmatamento Amazônia" (deforestation in the Amazon).