High in the monsoon mists in eastern India there is place called Golgola where witchdoctors still make sacrifices to the gods and where the tribes believe the hills are sacred, but where they fear their way of life is under threat.
No roads lead to Golgola, only a muddy track through a lush, green valley. On either side rise the Niyamgiri hills, thick with forests - wisps of cloud wreath their slopes and a light, misty drizzle coats everything.
Then you plunge into the jungle. A slippery path snakes through bamboo thickets and under giant jackfruit and mango trees laden with ripe fruit. For two hours you have to climb what looks an impossibly steep slope. In the humid air sweat soon drenches everything.
Otherwordly
High on the hillside you pass a pile of stones next to which are several small statues, primitive figures of men and women, their arms outstretched. This is where the Dongria Kondh people pray to their gods before collecting medicinal plants in the forests.
Orissa map
Then come strange wooden structures, smeared with offerings of fruit. There is a sense of magic in the air. The place feels otherworldly. The sound of drums carries through the forest.
And finally you reach Golgola. It's a tiny hamlet in a muddy clearing, with its two lines of long, low-thatched huts, hidden in a high cleft in the hills.
As we entered the village a witchdoctor, swathed in red, was dancing, almost in a trance, swaying in slow circles from house to house. Her hair was long and unkempt, long strings of beads and shells hung heavy round her neck.
On either side she was flanked by an assistant and behind came two young men in white, bowls on their heads were piled with fruits.
Mud oozing
In front of each doorway the family of every house handed a small chicken to the witchdoctor. She held it up, reciting prayers to the gods.
Then, in one swift move the bird's head was ripped from its body, its blood mingled with an offering of rice. The drums beat. The witchdoctor danced barefoot, thick mud oozing between her toes. Looking on were the villagers, all Dongria Kondh people, women with multiple rings in their noses and ears, many of the men slightly tipsy from jackfruit wine.
Just 7,950 Dongria Kondh are left today.
The Dongria have lived in the Niyamgiri hills in a remote part of eastern India's Orissa state for centuries. They survive by gathering fruit, growing small crops of millet and selling jungle plants in the towns at the foot of the hills. The modern world has yet to reach Golgola - there's no electricity, no school, no television, no telephones.
"We get everything from the jungle like the fruits we take to the market. This is like our source of life for our Dongria Kondh peoples," says Jitu Jakeskia, a young Dongria Kondh activist. He's one of the few Dongria to have got a formal education, and he's now fighting to preserve his tribe's way of life.
"We are not paying any money to get these fruits, this is free, it is like paradise for us here."
The Dongria are animists. Every hill is home to its own god.
"Niyam Raja is our supreme god. His name means Lord of Law, he made all things," explains Jitu. "Niyamgiri mountain is the most important place for Dongria Kondh people, it is like Niyam Rajah's temple, that is why our people worship nature, they have to protect nature."
Mineral riches
But an arm of the mining giant Vedanta Resources, one of Britain's biggest listed companies, wants the minerals from Niyamgiri hill.
High in the monsoon mists in eastern India there is place called Golgola where witchdoctors still make sacrifices to the gods and where the tribes believe the hills are sacred, but where they fear their way of life is under threat.
No roads lead to Golgola, only a muddy track through a lush, green valley. On either side rise the Niyamgiri hills, thick with forests - wisps of cloud wreath their slopes and a light, misty drizzle coats everything.
Then you plunge into the jungle. A slippery path snakes through bamboo thickets and under giant jackfruit and mango trees laden with ripe fruit. For two hours you have to climb what looks an impossibly steep slope. In the humid air sweat soon drenches everything.
Otherwordly
High on the hillside you pass a pile of stones next to which are several small statues, primitive figures of men and women, their arms outstretched. This is where the Dongria Kondh people pray to their gods before collecting medicinal plants in the forests.
Orissa map
Then come strange wooden structures, smeared with offerings of fruit. There is a sense of magic in the air. The place feels otherworldly. The sound of drums carries through the forest.
And finally you reach Golgola. It's a tiny hamlet in a muddy clearing, with its two lines of long, low-thatched huts, hidden in a high cleft in the hills.
As we entered the village a witchdoctor, swathed in red, was dancing, almost in a trance, swaying in slow circles from house to house. Her hair was long and unkempt, long strings of beads and shells hung heavy round her neck.
On either side she was flanked by an assistant and behind came two young men in white, bowls on their heads were piled with fruits.
Mud oozing
In front of each doorway the family of every house handed a small chicken to the witchdoctor. She held it up, reciting prayers to the gods.
Then, in one swift move the bird's head was ripped from its body, its blood mingled with an offering of rice. The drums beat. The witchdoctor danced barefoot, thick mud oozing between her toes. Looking on were the villagers, all Dongria Kondh people, women with multiple rings in their noses and ears, many of the men slightly tipsy from jackfruit wine.
Just 7,950 Dongria Kondh are left today.
The Dongria have lived in the Niyamgiri hills in a remote part of eastern India's Orissa state for centuries. They survive by gathering fruit, growing small crops of millet and selling jungle plants in the towns at the foot of the hills. The modern world has yet to reach Golgola - there's no electricity, no school, no television, no telephones.
"We get everything from the jungle like the fruits we take to the market. This is like our source of life for our Dongria Kondh peoples," says Jitu Jakeskia, a young Dongria Kondh activist. He's one of the few Dongria to have got a formal education, and he's now fighting to preserve his tribe's way of life.
"We are not paying any money to get these fruits, this is free, it is like paradise for us here."
The Dongria are animists. Every hill is home to its own god.
"Niyam Raja is our supreme god. His name means Lord of Law, he made all things," explains Jitu. "Niyamgiri mountain is the most important place for Dongria Kondh people, it is like Niyam Rajah's temple, that is why our people worship nature, they have to protect nature."
Mineral riches
But an arm of the mining giant Vedanta Resources, one of Britain's biggest listed companies, wants the minerals from Niyamgiri hill.
