As you travel along the roads of the Jequitinhonha Valley, in northeastern Minas Gerais, the landscape seems endless. Mile after mile of neatly aligned eucalyptus trees stretch across the horizon, forming a monochromatic corridor that has replaced the diversity of the cerrado and native forests. The trees stand tall, silent, and motionless. There are no birds perched on their branches. No signs of wildlife crossing between the straight trunks. The wind passes through, but life seems absent. What many call a “planted forest” is known by local communities as a green desert.
It was in this context that quilombola communities from across the Valley gathered at the end of April for a meeting organized by COQUIVALE—the Commission of Quilombola Communities of the Jequitinhonha Valley, who are Community Resource Exchange partners—and Instituto Maíra (members of the Coalition) to strengthen collective strategies in response to the expansion of eucalyptus monoculture and lithium mining projects across their territories.
More than a political gathering, it was a space for memory, denunciation, learning, and reaffirmation of collective life. In a territory historically marked by exploitation, communities discussed how to confront new forms of dispossession disguised as “energy transition,” “development,” and the “green economy.”
A Valley of Ancestry, Resistance, and Memory
The Jequitinhonha Valley is often portrayed from the outside as a “valley of poverty.” Yet that narrative ignores its cultural, historical, and territorial richness. Before Portuguese colonization, the region was home to Indigenous peoples. Beginning in the sixteenth century, colonial mining brought displacement, massacres, and the enslavement of Indigenous and African populations.
From resistance to slavery emerged quilombos that remain alive today—territories built upon community ties, family farming, traditional medicine, heirloom seeds, spirituality, and collective stewardship of the land.
Throughout the gathering, participants returned to a central idea: territory is not merely a physical space. It is memory, ancestry, and continuity. Reflections on “body-territory and ancestry” revisited the opposition between two worlds: “the world of destruction and the quilombola world.” Quilombola history was described as “the history of truth,” but also as a history frequently rendered invisible, erased, and confined within communities rather than reaching spaces of power.
“If ancestry is territory, forgetting is a territorial violation,” one woman leader stated during the plenary.
The need to speak out, defend rights, and unite was symbolized through the image of ants: “A single ant can be crushed, but no one can defeat an anthill.” The song “step lightly, step lightly; whoever cannot handle an ant should not provoke the anthill” was invoked as an expression of collective strength.
Communities remembered midwives, leaders, and others who kept traditional knowledge alive. The name of Ale do Rosário, an important quilombola organizer in the region, was repeatedly evoked as a symbol of the continuity of struggle.
At the same time, the Valley is also marked by landscapes of extraordinary beauty: mountain ranges, rivers, plateaus, small farms, agroecological gardens, and communities where flour, panela, beiju, beans, heirloom maize, and traditional medicines are still produced. This richness has been obscured for decades by policies that have treated the region as a sacrifice zone.
Beyond the destruction itself, the fundamental role quilombola peoples play in protecting nature is also routinely ignored. Narratives historically promoted by powerful interests attempt to blame quilombola communities for environmental degradation, when studies show precisely the opposite: more than 58% of territories managed by these communities are among the 10% most biodiverse areas on the planet.
Opening of the gathering with a collective song, marking the presence of quilombola participants and the territories from which they came.
The COQUIVALE Gathering: Uniting to Resist
The gathering brought together communities affected by eucalyptus monocultures, lithium mining, transmission lines, and various other territorial threats. Many leaders emphasized that these conflicts can no longer be confronted in isolation.
“When the people unite, resistance becomes stronger,” participants repeated throughout the two-day meeting.
Discussions covered territorial rights, free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC), legal strategies, environmental impacts, community communications, and international financing of development projects. During the second and third days, debates deepened around territorial protection, threats against leaders, self-determination, and community political organization.
One of the central themes was the difficulty of accessing information. Many communities reported that companies arrive offering highly technical meetings, promises of employment, and limited compensation schemes, while simultaneously pressuring residents to sign documents they do not fully understand.
There was also strong debate about the role of corporate marketing.
“The company’s website shows that they are only doing good things. That is marketing,” one woman leader summarized.
Communities drew connections with experiences in other territories across Latin America, particularly regions of the so-called “lithium triangle” in Chile and Argentina, identifying similar patterns of exploitation and promises of development that rarely materialize for local populations.
The Expansion of Eucalyptus in the Valley
The expansion of eucalyptus monoculture in Jequitinhonha has become entrenched over recent decades as part of development policies aimed at supporting steel production, pulp manufacturing, and bioenergy.
The main company involved is Aperam BioEnergia, which has operated in the Valley for decades with vast eucalyptus plantations dedicated to producing charcoal for the steel industry. Aperam BioEnergia’s expansion has received US$250 million in financing from the International Finance Corporation (IFC), the private-sector arm of the World Bank.
Other forestry companies mentioned by communities included Veracel Celulose, Eucatex, Florestal Bioflor, Reflorestar Soluções Florestais, Eucaminas, and Jequitinhonha Madeiras.
Community leaders denounced the way financing institutions treat the project’s expansion as an isolated initiative, ignoring decades of cumulative impacts on the territory. During testimonies, residents described profound changes in the landscape and in water availability.
“The plateau had plenty of water fifty years ago.”
Communities describe eucalyptus as a tree that is “foreign” to the territory: a species that does not belong to the local ecosystem, grows rapidly, and consequently absorbs large amounts of groundwater—a characteristic for which it was deliberately selected for industrial production.
The New Frontier of “Green Lithium”
More recently, the Valley has begun to be promoted as a new strategic frontier for lithium mining, a mineral central to electric vehicle batteries and technologies associated with the so-called energy transition.
National and international companies are rapidly advancing into the region, including:
- Sigma Lithium, responsible for the Grota do Cirilo complex between Itinga and Araçuaí;
- CBL;
- Atlas Lithium;
- Lithium Ionic;
- Pilbara Minerals;
- BYD.
Communities denounced how the discourse of “green lithium” conceals familiar processes of territorial pressure and economic concentration.
Sigma Lithium’s Grota do Cirilo mine was mentioned repeatedly during the gathering. Community leaders expressed concern about the mine’s proximity to quilombola territories and about the resumption of blasting activities following license renewals.
Public financing for the expansion of these projects, including support from Brazil’s National Development Bank (BNDES) for the lithium sector, was also discussed.
At the same time, participants questioned the actual benefits promised by companies.
“The company earns millions from lithium waste. Doesn’t what we want to transform our territory matter?”
Many interventions also linked lithium extraction to the Valley’s water crisis. In a territory already affected by decades of monoculture and environmental degradation, mining is perceived as yet another layer of pressure on scarce natural resources.
The role of development banks
Multilateral development banks such as the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB) have increasingly consolidated their role in expanding the mining of minerals considered strategic to the energy transition. In February 2026, the IDB launched the project Geological Mapping of Critical Minerals in Brazil, aimed at identifying deposits of lithium, graphite, and rare earth elements in Minas Gerais and Bahia.
The Jequitinhonha Valley was designated as one of the initiative’s priority areas, reinforcing its position as a strategic frontier for new investments and expanded mineral extraction.
The project seeks to identify new exploration targets and accelerate Brazil’s integration into global critical mineral supply chains. However, as has repeatedly occurred in the territory, potentially affected communities were not consulted in advance regarding these studies, despite the fact that public development banks maintain environmental and social safeguards related to the right of traditional communities to free, prior, and informed consultation.
Rosária Ribeiro da Rocha Costa, teacher and president of COQUIVALE.
“Never Stop Fighting”
Despite the denunciations and the weight of ongoing conflicts, the dominant tone of the gathering was one of collective strengthening.
Quilombola leaders repeatedly emphasized that resistance emerges from community, memory, and organization.
Rosária Costa, president of COQUIVALE, captured this spirit when she said:
“When one community goes through something, all communities go through it. We should all extend a hand to one another.”
Maria Eliane, from the Quilombo São João Marques, spoke about the fear of seeing the territory disappear, but also about the importance of remaining.
“Our territory is sacred.”
Over the course of the gathering, it became clear that communities are not only denouncing environmental impacts. They are defending a different vision for the future of the Jequitinhonha Valley—one grounded in remaining on the land, community agriculture, water, heirloom seeds, ancestral memory, and collective autonomy.
While governments and corporations see the Valley as a corridor for mineral and forestry commodities, quilombola communities continue to affirm that the territory is neither empty nor available.
It is home.
It is history.
It is permanence.
Closing circle celebrating the gathering and bidding farewell.