White Man's Burden

To get pictures of untamed Amazonian Indians for Rio's weekly picture magazine 0 Cruzeiro (circ. 350,000), Staff Photographer Jose Medeiros has made ten trips deep into the jungles of Central Brazil. On an expedition to the upper reaches of the Xingu River three weeks ago, it occurred to him that he might "do better than just bring back pictures." Two days later, he turned up in Rio with two large-as-life, fresh-from-the-jungle Camaiura Indian bucks in tow.

Even by jungle standards, the Camaiura are a primitive tribe, lacking such widespread items of Amazonian culture as blow guns and fish poisons. They are among the nakedest of savages: adult women wear only a G-string, men and children go buff bare.

But in Rio, Medeiros' charges behaved like gentlemen. They dressed in white man's clothing, smiled amiably at everybody they met, carefully imitated their host's actions. They were more amused than awed by civilization, finding telephones and streetcars especially delightful. When Medeiros' phone rang, they would pick it up, listen a while, then let loose peals of gleeful laughter. They spent hours leaning out the window, watching Rio's aged, dark-green streetcars clatter by.

The Indians seemed to enjoy their visit immensely, but for Medeiros it was an ordeal. Unable to find any place for them to stay, he put them up in his own three-room apartment, already occupied by himself, his wife and their two small children. He took the Indians out a few times, but he soon learned that though they enjoyed meeting people, people did not always enjoy meeting them. If the Indians approved of someone they met, they would put an arm around his neck (much in the manner of Manhattan's robust Restaurateur Toots Shor greeting an Old Pal), and then just stand there, keeping the neck firmly clasped, for as long as half an hour. So for most of their stay, the Indians remained in the apartment. "We just looked at them," said Medeiros, "and they just looked at us." To add to the family's trials, strangers came by at all hours "to see the Indians." Last week, his nerves frazzled by guests and gawkers, Medeiros shepherded his guests into a Brazilian air force Lodestar plane to take them back home. One buck had a cold, but otherwise the savages looked none the worse for their brush with civilization. Medeiros was pale, haggard and bone-tired.

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