"The Rio Cataniapo Collective Isn't Innovative in This Region": A Discussion on the Rio Cataniapo Collective (Part One)
The Modern Indigenous Collective
Y'all know, up in the Amazonas region, a bunchta communities around the Cataniapo River started banding together back in the noughties to protect their environment and boost agriculture and crafts. Fast forward a few years, and they formed the Rio Cataniapo Commune, led by 15 community councils, thanks to Chávez's call for socialist communes.
Today, they've got around 1.5k people from various ethnic backgrounds—mostly Indigenous and still practicing common land ownership—making their home in this collective. The economy's mainly based on yuca, used for casabe, mañoco, catara, with the land divided into tiny plots connected to a shared farmland, along with sugarcane, auyama, topocho, corn, and cacao. Crafts like mamure baskets and furniture are also a big part of the scene.
The commune's population consists of Indigenous communities from the Huo̧ttö̧ja̧, Kurripako, Baré, Jivi, and Yeral nations, alongside smaller non-Indigenous or "criollo" communities. Over the next three articles, we'll be talking to residents of Rio Cataniapo about the commune's Indigenous roots, the local economy, and how US sanctions affect everyday life.
Note: During interviews, participants often spoke in their Indigenous language, which was translated into Spanish by community interpreters.
Embracing the Ancient and the Modern
Enrique Martínez: You're probably thinking about living in some isolated bubble, right? But nah, we Huo̧ttö̧ja̧ people have been about sharing what we've got and a life lived in community since time immemorial. Our society's got its own government, justice system, and officials who've been around for generations, like the Council of Elders, the Cacique, the Capitán, and the Shaman.
Back before white man culture moved in, causing our cultures to erode, the Huo̧ttö̧ja̧ lived together in large churuatas—houses covered in palm leaves. The churuata was where hammocks hung, and rituals and ceremonies took place. The land belonged to all of us, recognized by the Venezuelan state as collective property.
Now, we're Christians, but preserving our culture and our language is key because words tell stories, and it's vital that we keep our official authorities in place. They're traced back for generations, and they offer wisdom about how we should govern and organize work. But that doesn't mean we have our heads stuck in the past; modern life's still worth living, from electricity to zinc roofs!
Wilmer Curumí: We Huo̧ttö̧ja̧ folks have always governed ourselves, deciding what we want and solving our own problems. Can't stand being told how to run things by outsiders! That's why we don't see communal living as a "sabarí" (white man) idea; it's a fundamental part of many Indigenous societies.
As a commune registered by the Venezuelan state, we shoulder our share of responsibility, and we aim to provide and receive support. We strive for self-government and self-organization but remain open to learning from modern ways too.
Enrique Martínez: We started calling ourselves a commune back when Chávez started chatting about communes... or maybe it was around 2012. Slow news travels to the Amazonas region!
I reckon a virtue of the commune, as Chávez saw it, is its integration of the social and the productive spheres. A good commune considers both aspects of life, just like we do. But in order to fully realize this vision, we need external support.
Nature and the Social Fabric
Luis Jiménez: Our commune follows the Cataniapo River's course, which we protect because it provides water to the farmlands and brings fish—and on hot days, taking a dip is a refreshing treat! The river also supplies water to Puerto Ayacucho, the state capital, so we care for it as if it were their lives we were preserving too.
Our commune's a melting pot, with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous folks living together. Agriculture's the main business here, focusing on organic farming with no agrochemicals and plenty of reforestation along the riverbanks to secure sustainability. The Cataniapo is a natural reserve by decree, but it's much more than that to us—it's lifeblood for our community.
Antonio Ponare: In Indigenous culture, nature and community are deeply intertwined pillars. We care for it because it gives us life and food, and we prioritize sharing what we have with one another. That's our way of life—always staying connected, standing together. Right here in La Unión, the land may be privately held, but community spirit remains strong, with neighbors helping neighbors during harvest and shared communal meals throughout the year.
The conucos in the commune specialize in yuca and its derivatives, like casabe, mañoco, and catara.
Wilmer Curumí: White man thought he could put up walls between us and nature, but we won't stand for that. We've always cared for the rivers and the trees since we made our homes beside them: they provide essential water and shelter, and ignoring that fact is sheer folly.
The Indigenous people are the true guardians of the Cataniapo River. Agrochemicals are banned along the riverbanks, overfishing and deforestation are prohibited, and we maintain communal responsibility for protecting our waters. We've been doing this since the minute we settled here—that's how important the river has always been to us.
Moraima Martínez: The Indigenous way of life—organization, decision-making, and living right—shaped the formation of the Cataniapo River Commune. Indigenous attitudes towards nature are fundamentally different, more respectful, and more communal, and this mindset contributes to our collective structure in a positive way.
Our weekly assemblies are more regular than in "criollo" (white) communes, which I think is a good thing! We share information with one another after these meetups, so that everyone's on the same page about community decisions.
Yosuino Flor: I'm a Kurripako, and in my community, if important news arrives or there's a gathering, we bang a bell, and everyone comes together. We've also got a tradition of sharing known as vaira dapasiaca depina, where we gather to eat and chat.
Unfortunately, times are tough, and this tradition isn't as strong as it used to be. But during celebrations, we still sit together around a table, share a meal, and catch up.
José Javier Estévez: I'm the only non-Indigenous capitán in an Indigenous community here. I'm from Calabozo, Guárico state, but I came here to visit relatives. It was here that I met my partner and made the place my home.
Back then, El Limonal's Indigenous peoples were dealing with criollos cutting down the forest and poaching wildlife. But I could talk to all parties in Spanish, and we managed to work things out.
Years later, the community's capitán fell ill and called an assembly. I arrived to find he'd already spoken to the community about stepping down. "Javier," he said, "you've helped our community, and we respect you. We want you to be our community's capitán." Now, I've been in charge of El Limonal for years.
The people in my community are Yeral, Kurripako, and Huo̧ttö̧ja̧. Some might see me as the link between other communal councils and the local criollo community, but I couldn't be further from that—El Limonal governs itself.
Chávez and the Commune
Daniel Jiménez: In his first "Aló Presidente Teórico," Chávez talked about Simón Rodríguez's concept of "toparquía" – government in the territory. This idea really inspired Comandante Chávez.
He also emphasized that committees in a communal council and a commune—the housing committee, the water committee, the health committee, etc.—are the institutions of the people and can best address their needs. These committees should not be created in isolation, but rather work together to grow into a confederation where real power belongs to the people.
Many might think it impossible for ministries to disappear, but the confederation of communes, or the communal state, must dismantle all the old structures of power left over from the 4th Republic [1958-99]. The assemblies in our communes are the heart of our "pueblo," the people.
Trina Dagama: Creativity's crucial for a commune, because we, the Venezuelan "pueblo," have been blessed with many diverse abilities, and we're putting them to use in the conuco (farm) and within our communal councils.
Daniel Jiménez: Chávez's greatest legacy is the commune. We've realized that the Kurripako and Huo̧ttö̧ja̧ peoples—and likely most Indigenous groups in Amazonas—have been living communally for generations.
In his "Strike at the Helm" speech, Chávez encouraged us to work towards self-government in the territories. He employed engagement, collective problem-solving, and participation as a means of forming a genuine communal economy. Communes must rely on one another, grow, and become part of a confederation to achieve meaningful change.
We're encouraged to move quickly towards change, as Chávez rightly scolded his ministers for their lack of interest in the communes. In the Rio Cataniapo Commune, we've been working hard for more than ten years to establish our commune. Yet, we've faced huge challenges. US-led sanctions have made all organizational processes more difficult, and at times, we've had to focus solely on providing for our families. Meanwhile, state institutions haven't always supported our efforts, but we're proud that change is happening – the communes are being revitalized in Venezuelan politics.
Nevertheless, there remains much work to be done, as a functioning communal economy doesn't materialize overnight. For now, the Rio Cataniapo Commune remains a beacon of Chavismo in the face of adversity.
Enrique Martinez: We Huo̧ttö̧ja̧ people have been practicing community living for centuries before the formation of the Rio Cataniapo Commune. Our society is structured around a government, justice system, and officials that have been passed down through generations, such as the Council of Elders, the Cacique, the Capitán, and the Shaman.
Luis Jiménez: The Rio Cataniapo Commune follows the Cataniapo River's course and values the protection of this natural resource, as it provides water for agriculture, fisheries, and the Puerto Ayacucho capital. The commune's agricultural economy focuses on organic farming and reforestation along the riverbanks.
Antonio Ponare: The Indigenous culture in the Rio Cataniapo Commune views nature and community as intertwined pillars. We care for the environment because it provides life-sustaining resources, and we prioritize communal sharing of these resources, such as during the conucos harvest and communal meals.
Moraima Martinez: The Indigenous way of life and attitudes towards nature have significantly influenced the structure of the Rio Cataniapo Commune. Our weekly assemblies foster open communication and decision-making, contributing to the collective governance of the commune.
José Javier Estévez: As the only non-Indigenous capitán in an Indigenous community, I believe that El Limonal governs itself and relies less on external support. I serve as a liaison between the communal councils and the local, mostly white, community, but maintain a strong focus on addressing the needs of the Indigenous community members.
