Iyá Patrícia d’Xangô (Mãe Patrícia) and her husband, Ogan Cézar d’Oxalá (Cézar Paulo Fogolari), cleaning their religious site three months after the mudslide in 2024.

By Carla Ruas
PORTO ALEGRE, Brazil, Oct 19 2026 (IPS)

In 2024, as floodwaters approached Lutalo Canti’s home in Porto Alegre, Brazil, he lifted some furniture off the floor and left in a hurry. Extreme rainfall in the country’s southern region had caused local rivers to overflow. The flooding would eventually reach more than 400 municipalities and impact over 2 million people.

When waters finally receded, Canti, 61, was shocked to see the damage to his house, which also served as a terreiro—a sacred space for the practice of Afro-Brazilian religions.

These beliefs, which date back to enslaved Africans and their descendants, have around 1.85 million followers in Brazil, per the latest national census. Terreiros are at the heart of these traditions, serving as spaces where religious leaders honor deities and spiritual entities.

Between water damage, sewage contamination, and mold, he estimates losses to the house around US$15,000 (R$80,000). About half the damage was to his home, and the rest to religious objects, including ceremonial clothing and sacred figures.

Lutalo Canti estimates flood losses of around US$15,000 to his home and terreiro, which is pictured here before the flood. Credit: Lutalo Canti

Two years later, Canti still hasn’t recovered everything lost and feels largely left out of donations and other recovery efforts. “We have received no help. Nothing,” he told IPS. He blames religious racism.

A new study shows that Canti is not alone. Since the floods, researchers from the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS) and the region’s Council of Terreiro People have been surveying the regional terreiros. The findings, which are just now being published, document widespread reports of discrimination during and after the disaster.

“Terreiros experienced severe religious racism,” said Cláudia Pires, one of the researchers involved in the study. “That includes difficulties accessing food and water, lack of access to their own spaces, as well as delays or a complete lack of response from public authorities to their needs.”

Immediately after the disaster, out of 711 terreiros surveyed, almost all (94.1%) reported structural damage—with more than half of those completely destroyed.

In the months that followed, more in-depth interviews with 241 terreiro leaders indicated an ongoing crisis. Follow-up data shows that more than 80% of those leaders reported emotional harm and forced displacement.

As they struggled to recover, many of them suspended religious gatherings for months, while 3.5% closed permanently. “That was the saddest finding for us,” said Tanara Furtado, a co-author of the study. “It may seem like a small number, but it represents the disappearance of history, ancestry, and traditions. For Afro-Brazilian religions, that is profound.”

Lutalo Canti lost religious objects, including ceremonial clothing and sacred figures, in a severe flood. Credit: Lutalo Canti

Barriers to Receiving Aid

The study shows discrimination reports beginning in the early days of the disaster.

While many flood victims were evacuated to shelters, Afro-Brazilian religious practitioners often did not feel welcome in these spaces. “When people saw their guias (sacred necklaces), they were treated badly,” Furtado said. “Many ended up staying in friends’ and relatives’ homes, sometimes 25 people sharing a house with a single bathroom and no running water.”

And even as donations poured in from across Brazil, several reported much of that aid failed to reach them.

In a telephone interview, Pai Valdir de Oxalá, 55, recalled the challenges of accessing basic supplies. The babalorixá, or Afro-Brazilian religious leader, is the president of the Council of Terreiro Peoples of the State of Rio Grande do Sul (CPTERGS).

After his own terreiro was flooded in the municipality of Guaíba, he arranged for an out-of-state organization to send food, water, and other supplies to around 400 followers of nearby terreiros.

“When the truck arrived, they noticed our religion and refused to leave the donations unless I said a Christian prayer,” he recalled. “This goes against my beliefs and is an aggressive form of religious racism. But I had no choice. People didn’t have what to eat, drink, or wear. So I prayed.”

Iyá Paty de Xangô, also known as Mãe Patrícia, says she continued to face discrimination long after the disaster. The floods triggered a landslide that buried her religious site in the municipality of Feliz. The property includes several residences, ritual spaces, and a library.

“We submitted more than 40 official requests to city hall asking for help,” she said. “Even though we are a public-utility institution, it took them two months to come over with machinery, while other private properties were being cleared.”

In 2024, a technical report by Brazil’s Federal Public Defender’s Office (DPU) concluded that the local government showed “resistance to providing emergency assistance and repairing the damage” at her site. The document also found that public authorities had been “selective in providing assistance to religious entities.”

At the time, the municipality of Feliz attributed the delay in assistance to the scale of the disaster. In a letter, officials stated that they did “not have sufficient personnel and machinery to respond to all requests immediately.”

Patrícia eventually turned to the courts. In July 2025, she sued the municipality, the state government, and the owners of a neighboring property, seeking measures to protect her site from future landslides.

Religious Racism in a Changing Climate

Baba Hendrix, a theologian and babalorixá spiritual leader, argues that the climate crisis is amplifying vulnerabilities that have long existed in these communities. “This is simply the continuation of a historical process,” he said. “Since at least the 19th century, Afro-Brazilian religious traditions have faced persecution.”

He believes the root of this racism lies in Brazilian society’s extreme “Christian-centrism,” which he says has led to intolerance toward other religions. He also points to longstanding anti-Black racism. “When Christian-centrism and racism converge, they produce this religious racism that we are seeing.”

Hendrix says this discrimination now spans across many parts of society. “We have faced persecution from the police to the medical establishment,” he said. “Laws against quackery and charlatanism were even created specifically to persecute Afro-Brazilian religious traditions.”

The UFRGS study suggests these experiences remain widespread. Of the 241 religious leaders interviewed, 70.8% said they had suffered religious racism from neighbors, public authorities, police, Evangelicals, Catholics, and others. Of those, 47% said they experienced it frequently.

Researchers argue that this discrimination has in turn made these communities more vulnerable to climate disasters. Pires said many terreiros have been pushed to peripheral areas that are overlooked in city planning. “When it rains, these peripheral areas end up being sacrificed,” she said. “I think sacrifice is a very important word here.”

Super El Niño

As a powerful El Niño brings more extreme weather to southern Brazil, the researchers continue monitoring terreiros across the region. Since August, almost 100 have reported damage related to extreme weather.

“This is our new normal,” said Furtado. “We have terreiros that were affected by the 2024 floods and are already being affected again by winds, rains, and floods.”

In the municipality of Canoas, babalorixá Júlio César Santos, 47, has been watching the weather closely. In 2024, his terreiro, where he practices Umbanda among other Afro-Brazilian traditions, was completely submerged. Nearly two years later, the space remains unfinished, despite more than US$15,000 (R$80,000) spent on repairs.

“When it rains, I get very nervous,” he said. “It’s a fear that stays with us.”

Santos has thought about leaving his house due to the risk of future flooding but says he does not have the funds to buy a new home. He was found ineligible for a housing assistance program for flood victims. “It’s not as simple as finding another house,” he said. “I need land and access to nature to practice my religion.”

He also needs the approval of orixás—spiritual deities—to move his terreiro to another location. “It is the orixá who will choose,” he said. “It is not me, Júlio, who decides.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

The community works to preserve its identity amid pressure from real estate development and non-Indigenous settlers. Credit: Samuel Tremembé

By Carla Ruas
BELÉM, Brazil, May 21 2026 (IPS)

On Brazil’s northeastern coast, the Indigenous community, Tremembé da Barra do Mundaú, lives on a preserved stretch of land shaped by mangroves, dunes, and deserted beaches. The group of around 160 families is led by women and depends on the 3,500-hectare territory for fishing and subsistence farming.

In 2023, the Tremembé won federal recognition of their ancestral land in the state of Ceará – giving them formal control over the territory.

But their home remains under threat. As tourism has expanded, they have faced growing pressure from real estate developments and around 100 non-Indigenous settlers. A push for renewable energy has also brought nearby wind projects that the community says damage the environment and disrupt their way of life.

“We have many problems here, including trash in our rivers, cars scaring away animals, and people damaging the dunes,” said Cleidiane Tremembé, a local Indigenous teacher. “With the installation of wind farms, many fish species have also disappeared from our river, and we’re catching fewer fish.”

The Tremembé da Barra do Mundaú Indigenous Land protects 27 km of mangrove forest and 8 km of coastline. Credit: Samuel Tremembé

This May, the group will begin investing roughly US$300,000 in efforts to protect their territory. The funds come from the Ywy Ipuranguete (‘beautiful land’) project – an ambitious initiative that aims to distribute a total of US$9 million to 15 Indigenous Lands across Brazil by 2030.

The project is coordinated by Brazil’s Ministry of Indigenous Peoples (MPI), implemented by the Brazilian Biodiversity Fund (FUNBIO), and financed through the Global Biodiversity Framework Fund (GBFF). The GBFF, whose donors include the governments of Canada, Norway and the United Kingdom, is managed by the Global Environment Facility (GEF) – the world’s largest multilateral environmental fund.

According to the GEF, the goal is to support the protection of Indigenous territories as a strategy to conserve biodiversity and strengthen climate resilience.

“A growing body of evidence shows that territories managed by Indigenous Peoples — particularly where land tenure is formally recognised — consistently rank among the most effective settings for maintaining biodiversity, retaining carbon stocks, and preserving ecological integrity, often outperforming both unprotected lands and formally designated conservation areas,” said Adriana Moreira, Lead of the Partnerships Division at the GEF.

If fully implemented, the project would help protect 6.4 million hectares and reach around 61,000 Indigenous people.

Following the project’s launch in March 2025, the Tremembé will be among the first communities to put the funds into action.

Tremembé community member Mateus Castro says their goal is to preserve their land and culture for future generations. Credit: Julia Holanda

Mateus Castro, a community member coordinating the work locally, said the money will be used primarily to acquire drones, radio transmitters, vehicles and a boat to help secure the territory’s boundaries.

“We want to monitor and record the presence of outsiders,” he said in an interview. “This project will allow us to have the tools that give our territory security and autonomy.”

The same equipment would help the community inventory local ecosystems and animal species. Their coastal stretch is home to a wide range of species – from fish and crabs to endangered sea turtles.

“We want to record the species along our coastline so we can use that information as a defence against the licensing of new offshore wind farms,” he said.

With the funding, they also plan to reforest degraded areas, train local environmental brigades, and fund traditional festivals. The first will be the Farinhada Festival that takes place in July. During the festivities, families celebrate cassava as a sacred food and prepare traditional dishes for younger generations.

“In Indigenous culture, everything is connected,” Castro said. “Our goal is to preserve our land, culture, and identity for the children who are yet to be born. We are thinking 100, 200 years from now.”

Future Plans

The Indigenous communities selected to participate in the Ywy Ipuranguete project were chosen by FUNAI, Brazil’s federal Indigenous affairs agency, with input from Indigenous organisations.

The priority was given to groups outside the Amazon, including the Tremembé in Ceará, as part of an effort to decentralise environmental funding. Nearly half of Brazil’s 1.69 million Indigenous people live outside the Legal Amazon, according to the legal census.

“If we look at environmental projects in general, funding, implementation, and resources are usually focused on the Amazon,” said Francisco Itamar Gonçalves Melgueiro, FUNAI’s general coordinator for environmental policies. “That is why we distributed the project across five biomes in Brazil – the Amazon, Pantanal, Cerrado, Caatinga and Atlantic Forest.”

FUNAI also selected communities that had recently removed invaders from their lands, including the Kayapó and Munduruku, who have been in conflict with illegal miners in the Amazon for decades. “After that removal, we see an opportunity for Indigenous peoples to fully retake possession of their territories,” Melgueiro said.

Communities did not need their territories to be fully recognised by the federal government to qualify for the funding. However, they had to submit detailed plans, known as PGTAs, which are part of a broader set of Indigenous territorial and environmental management documents.

During the Farinhada Festival, families celebrate cassava and prepare traditional dishes such as tapioca crepes. Credit: Julia Holanda

“These plans serve as blueprints for their future and cover a wide range of themes and actions,” Melgueiro said. “They are an instrument of the peoples, built by the peoples.”

But many are still working on their PGTAs. More than a decade after Brazil created the framework for these plans, a 2023 civil-society report found that Indigenous communities have received little support for their development, especially during the administration of Brazilian right-wing President Jair Bolsonaro. To date, FUNAI has mapped just 148 PGTAs in a country with more than 800 Indigenous Lands.

The first year of the Ywy Ipuranguete project has been largely dedicated to helping participating communities finalise and detail their PGTAs. The Brazilian Biodiversity Fund (FUNBIO), GEF’s implementing agency, told IPS that this “is a massive and meticulous undertaking”, as they work with Indigenous communities to “determine which PGTA activities are to be undertaken, the best methods for executing them, and the specific implementation arrangements for each Indigenous Land”.

According to Brazil’s Ministry of Indigenous Peoples (MPI), only about 8% of the total budget has been spent so far, mostly on planning, coordination and initial activities. Eventually, MPI said, 75% of the budget will go directly to the communities, with much of the funding transferred to Indigenous organisations. “Investing in Indigenous peoples to maintain their own ways of existing is investing in the survival of humanity itself,” the ministry said in a statement.

Community members say fish species have disappeared from their river following the installation of nearby wind farms. Credit: Samuel Tremembé

“Investing in Indigenous peoples to maintain their own ways of existing is investing in the survival of humanity itself,” the ministry said in a statement.

In Tremembé da Barra do Mundaú, where plans are underway, the community feels ready. The funding will build on years of work, from training young environmental agents to documenting food traditions.

“This is one of the largest resources the territory has ever received,” Castro said. “For us, it’s a huge opportunity to consolidate and strengthen our mission of caring for the land.”

Note: The Eighth Global Environment Facility Assembly will be held from May 30 to June 6, 2026, in Samarkand, Uzbekistan.
This feature is published with the support of the GEF. IPS is solely responsible for the editorial content, and it does not necessarily reflect the views of the GEF.

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