Deep within the Peruvian Amazon, a centuries-old tribe that has chosen to live apart from modern civilization now faces growing danger as outsiders push deeper into their forest. The Mashco Piro, one of the world’s largest uncontacted tribes, have lived in isolation for generations—hunting, gathering, and moving through the dense jungle. But their encounters with nearby villagers are becoming more frequent, sparking fear and concern for both sides.
In the small fishing village of Nueva Oceania, perched along the Tauhamanu River, residents say the Mashco Piro have begun appearing more often, driven closer by the sounds of chainsaws and bulldozers from nearby logging operations. “One was standing, aiming with an arrow,” recalls Tomas Anez Dos Santos, a villager who unexpectedly came face to face with the group. “They started circling and whistling like birds. I called out, ‘Nomole’—brother—and ran toward the river.”
Nueva Oceania, home to barely eight families, is not officially recognized as a protected area for isolated tribes. The noise and intrusion of loggers have disturbed the once-quiet forest, displacing the Mashco Piro from their traditional paths. Villagers like Tomas find themselves caught between fear and empathy. “We respect them and want to protect them,” he says. “Let them live as they live—we can’t change their culture.”
A new report by Survival International warns that the Mashco Piro’s plight is not unique. It lists at least 196 uncontacted groups across the globe, half of which could vanish within a decade if governments fail to shield them from outside threats. Logging, mining, oil drilling, and disease brought by outsiders are cited as the biggest dangers. Even contact from missionaries or online content creators seeking viral fame can prove fatal for people who lack immunity to common illnesses.
Recent encounters have fueled anxiety in Nueva Oceania. Young mother Letitia Rodriguez says she fled in terror after hearing the Mashco Piro shouting in the forest while she was gathering fruit. “Because of the logging, they’re running away and coming near us. We don’t know how they might react—that’s what scares me,” she says. Past incidents have turned deadly: in 2022, two loggers were attacked, one fatally, after crossing paths with the group.
Peru’s government maintains a strict “no-contact” policy, modeled after Brazil’s approach, to prevent catastrophic disease outbreaks among isolated tribes. Previous experiences with other indigenous communities, such as the Nahua and Murunahua, showed that contact with the outside world led to devastating population losses from illness and deprivation. “Even the simplest disease could wipe them out,” warns Issrail Aquisse of the indigenous rights group Fenamad.
While Nueva Oceania’s residents feel abandoned by authorities, some are taking matters into their own hands—planting food near the forest edge to deter the Mashco Piro from approaching their homes. Nearly 200 kilometers southeast, along the Manu River, another group of Mashco Piro lives within a designated reserve. Here, government agents at the “Nomole” control post maintain cautious distance, offering food like plantains and cassava from across the river to avoid tension.
Over years of brief exchanges, the agents have learned fragments about the tribe. The Mashco Piro identify themselves by animal names—their leader is called Kamotolo (Honey Bee), and another elder, Tkotko (Vulture), is known for his humor. They show curiosity about the agents’ clothes and families but remain silent about their own ways of life. Experts believe they descended from Indigenous groups who fled rubber baron violence in the late 19th century, adapting as nomadic hunter-gatherers to survive.
Despite these fragile efforts at coexistence, the encroachment continues. A planned road near the Manu reserve threatens to open routes for illegal miners, putting even protected groups at risk. A 2016 proposal to extend the Mashco Piro reserve to cover Nueva Oceania remains unsigned by the government.
For villagers like Tomas, the solution is clear but urgent. “We need them to be free like us,” he says quietly. “They lived peacefully for years. Now their forests are being destroyed.”
