There are no epic cargo planes with tons of water or helicopter drops for this small group of firefighters. Just shovels, sweat, a turbocharger to blow the leaves to burn the fire, and long, uneven, agonizing drives in aging jeeps and ATVs through dust and ash.
A small strip of several dozen firefighters – based in a two-story house three hours away from the nearest village – spans a huge area through which green has turned to ash at an alarming rate for the past four days.
Firefighters have useful but troubling neighbors, Tengarim's indigenous population. Technique has been calling this area "Mother" for centuries, but they fear a raging inferno this year, and the rampant deforestation around the Amazon may soon leave them orphaned.
This is the land in which they live and identify. But Marcio Tengarim, the president of their association, watches the flames exhausted, knowing his delicate world is changing. "The next generation will have a darker future," he said. "Ever since this president came to power, these things have been happening a lot more."
Tenharim's root cap glows in the orange feather, appearing somewhat reconciled and empty, in the wall of the flame. "It is sad to see what we have preserved," he said.
"Four days of fires on reserved land where you can breathe fresh, clean air. And now we are breathing smoke."