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In a church built on stilts facing the sea, two 19-year-old American Mormon priests sit in front of the altar chatting to young Guna people. Elder Burr and Elder Aba, from the US states of Utah and Oregon respectively, reached the island of Kanir-Dup , in the Guna Yala (San Blas) archipelago in Panama, by pirogue more than four months ago, sent by their movement to teach the Indigenous community about the word of Jesus Christ.
Since their arrival, the missionaries’ daily routines have been on a continuous loop: prayers, sports, meals, Bible studies and mass. Yet Burr does not seem to mind the repetition; he has his mind on the greater aim of his proselytism mission. “We are here to convert these natives,” he says.
History suggests that Burr and Aba’s task will not be simple: preachers are nothing new for the Guna people. For more than 500 years, these Indigenous people, originally from northern Colombia and the Darién Gap, have been harassed by conquistadors, Christian evangelists, authoritarian governments and other Indigenous peoples who have tried to massacre, conquer or convert them. They have constantly been confronted with the outside world and fought against it, trying to preserve their identity at all costs.
The first Spanish expeditions to the American continent began to be a threat in the 15th century, eventually forcing the Guna people to migrate to what is now known as the Guna Yala region. There they faced clashes with the Catios or Emberá people, who shared the same region of the Darién Gap, and with whom they had periods of tension and conflict over land and resources, mostly during the 19th century.
From the 15th to the 19th centuries, the Guna people alternated between the mainland and the islands. Today, about 62,000 of them live from fishing, hunting, agriculture and subsistence farming of crops including rice, manioc, yams and coconuts, mostly in the archipelago but also on the mainland.
In 1925, they were the first Indigenous people to proclaim independence, fighting to found a republic that lasted just a few days, based on a federation of small groups, each with their own political, moral and religious council, practising an original form of shamanism and united by the same language.
In February the Guna will celebrate the centenary of their ephemeral independence amid a new struggle for survival. This community is now fighting threats such as the climate crisis, mass tourism and the pressure to acculturate, as it tries to maintain its traditions and way of life.
The Guna Yala islands are one of Central America’s most exposed maritime zones in the path of climatic phenomena. Their inhabitants face rising sea levels due to the climate crisis, and pollution such as plastic waste and fuel from tourist boats.
In August, about 300 Guna families who lived in Gardi Sugdub had to relocate due to rising sea levels, coastal erosion and frequent flooding. Overpopulation and limited resources on the island further strained their ability to live sustainably on the island.
These challenges, combined with government measures supposed to provide safer living conditions, have led to a plan for resettlement in Isber Yala, a purpose-built town on the mainland featuring new homes, schools and health facilities.
Adapting to changes created by the climate crisis or moving inland appear to be the only options for securing the Guna people’s future in this mosaic of more than 365 islands – 49 of them inhabited. In Gardi Sugdub, several chiefs representing those Guna people who remain on the island discuss the limits of offshore fishing. The lively debates reflect an inextricable situation: they have to navigate at night in a pirogue on the high seas for more than three hours in the hope of finding fry.
Nelson Mogran, 59, the head of the Guna community on the island, does not hide his discomfort with the changes he sees in the environment and the impact of over-tourism. “We’re being subjected to these hordes of tourists,” he complains. “Not only are there no more fish, but our corals are all dead because of mass tourism and the gas from motorboats.”
Yet 80% of the Gunas’ income comes from tourists, through offering services such as tours and accommodation. In the distance, dozens of the latest Zodiac motorboats speed off to the tourist beaches. Americans, South Americans and Europeans visit the archipelago on holiday, most of them unaware of the consequences their visits have on the Guna people.
Traditions play a central role for the Guna people. In this matriarchal culture, a newly married man must move into the home of his spouse and submit to the authority of his father-in-law. For young girls, the passage from puberty to adulthood is crystallised during unique spiritual ceremonies.
On the day of one of these ceremonies, the whole village gathers in a hut measuring several dozen square meters. A banana leaf is placed over the entrance to scare away demons. As the hours pass, everyone drinks an alcoholic coffee concoction brewed locally.
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Crowded together, the Guna people dance and sing amid the scent of alcohol and pipe smoke. When the air becomes almost unbreathable, two wizards run into the middle of the hut wearing fish-tooth necklaces; no one may approach them.
Such Indigenous rituals are now mixed with Christian practices. The Catholic faith has been followed by many Guna people since the 15th century, after the colonisation of their lands by Spanish conquistadors, guided by Christopher Columbus. The Catholic Guna people throughout the archipelago also believe in the presence of a mother and father who watch over them from heaven. This heavenly protection is said to shield them from storms and rising waters.
“Without religion, we couldn’t survive here,” says a Guna woman wearing a traditional tunic made from molas, colourful layers of fabric, cut and hand-sewn into designs.
Burr and Alba’s mission is to attract new believers. Wearing a Guna tie over his meticulously ironed white shirt, Burr, a young blond man with bright blue eyes, says the 10am Sunday service. In the Guna dialect, the Mormon priest reads passages from the Bible and distributes the sacrament to the 30 faithful present.
Sitting quietly in the back row, a young girl holds a missal in Spanish on her lap. “We like them. They help us believe in Jesus,” she says.
In the archipelago, the signs of the crisis are so evident that even the newcomers adapt. After mass, Burr reveals his anxiety about the rising waters. “Our church is elevated, but we’ve made a dam ourselves. The important thing for us is to preach the word of Jesus to the last Guna,” says the missionary, his forehead sweating from the humidity.
For Marc de Banville, a writer, film-maker and expert on Panama, the Guna people’s resilience is a reason for hope. “The Gunas have adapted to the inhospitable environment of the archipelago,” he says. “This new change will be difficult, but they will succeed.”
Hundreds of Guna people have already settled in Panama City, some of them doctors, entrepreneurs and shopkeepers. In a planned evacuation, several hundred Indigenous families crossed the Panama canal when it was partially dry in February 2024, to get to the Brisas del Campo district, where they now live.
One of them is Iniquilipi Chiari, 47, who comes from Gardi Sugdub, and for many years was head of the office for the environment of Indigenous peoples at the environment ministry. He is now an international coordinator for the NGO Four Worlds International Institute.
Wearing traditional red clothing, he says the Panamanian government is well aware of their vulnerability. “In 10 years, our people might cease to exist on Earth. But nobody cares,” he says. “We will still be considered poor Indigenous people by the UN because we have no drinking water, no toilets, no electricity.”
Chiari believes that shedding light on the fate of one of the world’s oldest Native American peoples is critical for their survival. One way, he says, is to integrate them fully into annual Cop meetings and international summits.
“I went to the 2019 one in Madrid, but nobody listened to me seriously,” he says. “We are biodiversity. If we no longer exist, part of the world’s biodiversity will disappear.”
