Marciano Flores, a 69-year-old Cocama Indigenous fisherman, wades into the shrinking Amazon River, his net empty and hopes fading. A year ago, these waters would have reached over his head. Now, historic drought has turned the river into a shadow of itself, leaving fish scarce and livelihoods hanging by a thread.
The Cost of Climate Chaos
\"When the water's low, the fish die,\" Flores explains, his voice heavy with frustration. Indigenous communities like his rely on the river for food and income, but dwindling catches force fishermen to travel farther, burning precious fuel and time. For many, this isn’t just a job—it’s a cultural lifeline at risk of snapping.
Why It Matters
Colombia’s Amazon region is a climate crisis frontline. Scientists link extreme droughts to deforestation and global warming, but for Indigenous residents, the impacts are immediate: empty nets, empty stomachs, and traditions slipping away. As one fisherman put it: \"The drought has hit me hard.\"
While governments debate climate policies, communities like Flores’ are sounding the alarm. Their story is a stark reminder: protecting ecosystems isn’t just about saving trees—it’s about safeguarding lives.
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