Why do people stay? The answer is far more complicated than poverty alone.
Nas margens de um rio que não perdoa, uma pesquisa nascida do próprio desastre tenta responder por que as pessoas ficam — e descobre que a resposta exige mais do que falar em pobreza. O trabalho de Jandiro Adriano Koch sobre o bairro Pinguela, em Estrela, no Vale do Taquari, transforma uma dissertação de mestrado em livro público, distribuído gratuitamente às comunidades que o tornaram possível. Ao recolocar no centro da história grupos historicamente marginalizados — e ao tratar as enchentes não como acidentes isolados, mas como superfície visível de desigualdades territoriais profundas — a obra desafia tanto as narrativas oficiais da região quanto as políticas que delas derivam.
- As enchentes de 2023 e 2024 dispersaram famílias, destruíram arquivos e interromperam a própria pesquisa que tentava documentar a vulnerabilidade do território.
- A permanência de moradores em áreas de risco não se explica por uma única causa: vínculos comunitários, proximidade do trabalho, ausência de alternativas habitacionais e dinâmicas históricas de exclusão urbana se entrelaçam de formas que políticas simplistas ignoram.
- Gênero, etnia e padrões de ocupação desigual — dimensões silenciadas pela história oficial centrada na imigração europeia — são colocados no centro da análise, reconfigurando o que se entende por vulnerabilidade.
- O livro foi distribuído gratuitamente a escolas, bibliotecas e aos próprios moradores retratados, ampliando o alcance da pesquisa para além dos círculos acadêmicos.
- Koch alerta que não basta agir após eventos extremos: é preciso projetar continuidade e futuro, e o Vale do Taquari ainda carece de análises complexas sobre sua própria formação territorial.
Depois das enchentes que devastaram o Vale do Taquari em 2023 e 2024, Jandiro Adriano Koch — pesquisador e natural de Estrela — concluiu um livro que nasceu dentro do próprio desastre que estuda. A obra, "Uma outra Estrela: a habitação e a permanência de pessoas em áreas inundáveis", publicada pela Editora Libélula com apoio da Política Nacional Aldir Blanc, começou como dissertação de mestrado na Univates e precisou ser refeita em partes quando as cheias dispersaram famílias e destruíram arquivos históricos. Com a colaboração direta dos moradores, Koch reconstruiu a memória territorial do bairro Pinguela e de outros quatro bairros marcados pela urbanização desigual.
A pergunta central do livro é aparentemente simples: por que as pessoas ficam em áreas vulneráveis? A resposta recusa explicações fáceis. A pesquisa, orientada pela professora Neli Teresinha Galarce Machado, identificou que a permanência resulta de fatores entrelaçados — laços comunitários, proximidade do emprego, falta de alternativas habitacionais reais e os padrões históricos de quem foi empurrado para as margens das cidades. Gênero e etnia aparecem como dimensões estruturantes, ausentes das narrativas oficiais da região, que por muito tempo privilegiaram a história da imigração europeia e das elites econômicas.
O livro documenta como mercado imobiliário, poder público e populações vulneráveis colidiram ao longo do tempo, e como políticas de remoção e reassentamento frequentemente reproduziram ciclos de vulnerabilidade em vez de rompê-los. Combinando mapas, fotografias, documentos de arquivo e dois anos de depoimentos, Koch — vencedor do Prêmio Açorianos de Literatura de 2021 — escreve com rigor analítico e alcance público. Distribuído gratuitamente a escolas, bibliotecas e às próprias comunidades retratadas, o trabalho trata o desastre não como crise isolada, mas como superfície visível de desigualdades territoriais mais profundas — e propõe que pensar o futuro exige muito mais do que responder a emergências.
In the aftermath of devastating floods that swept through Brazil's Taquari Valley in 2023 and 2024, a researcher from the affected region completed a book that asks a deceptively simple question: why do people stay? The answer, it turns out, is far more complicated than poverty alone.
Jandiro Adriano Koch, a native of Estrela, spent years investigating the Pinguela neighborhood—a historically vulnerable community repeatedly battered by the Taquari River. His work began as a master's thesis at Univates University's graduate program in Environment and Development, but the floods that struck during his research forced him to adapt. Families were scattered. Archives were destroyed. Yet with their direct collaboration, Koch reconstructed substantial portions of how the territory had been occupied and inhabited over time. The result is "Uma outra Estrela: a habitação e a permanência de pessoas em áreas inundáveis"—"Another Estrela: Housing and Permanence in Flood-Prone Areas"—published by Editora Libélula with support from Brazil's National Aldir Blanc Cultural Funding Policy.
The book was distributed free to schools, libraries, regional media outlets, and the residents whose stories it tells. What makes it significant is not just its subject matter but its framework. Under the guidance of professor Neli Teresinha Galarce Machado, the research rejected simple explanations. Yes, poverty matters. But the study found that people remain in vulnerable territories because of interwoven factors: bonds to their community, proximity to work, the absence of realistic housing alternatives, and the deep historical patterns of how cities grew and who was pushed to the margins. Gender and ethnicity shaped these patterns too—dimensions that traditional accounts of the region had largely ignored.
Estrela's official history had long centered on European immigration and the decisions of economic elites. Koch's work deliberately shifted that lens. He examined five neighborhoods born from unequal urbanization: Marmitt, Cantão, Chácara da Prefeitura, Moinhos, and Pinguela itself. He documented how real estate markets, government agencies, and vulnerable populations collided. He traced how removal and resettlement policies, implemented at different moments, created new spaces without adequate infrastructure—trapping residents in cycles of vulnerability rather than breaking them.
The book combines rigorous analysis with accessible writing. It includes maps, photographs, archival documents, and two years of collected testimony from residents. Koch, who won the 2021 Açorianos Literature Prize and was a finalist for the 2024 Ages Prize, writes with both analytical density and public reach. His advisor notes that this combination amplifies the work's impact beyond academic circles.
Koch himself frames the book's ambition broadly. "Despite focusing directly on Estrela and Pinguela, a strong intention was to become an inspiration for other researchers to extend similar attention to other spaces in the Taquari Valley," he explained. The region, he argues, lacks complex analyses of its own formation—analyses that do not shy away from tense, often silenced topics. "It is not possible to think only of actions after extreme climate events, but of continuity and future projection," he added.
The book's structure reflects this dual purpose. It presents the completed master's thesis on one side, updated with new findings, and on the other, Koch's reflections on his academic journey and investigative process. In a moment when extreme weather events force urgent decisions about land use, infrastructure, and who gets to stay where, this work offers something rare: a systematic account that treats disaster not as an isolated crisis but as the visible surface of deeper territorial inequalities. It restores memories at risk of being lost. It produces knowledge rooted in specific places. And it challenges the simplified stories—about poverty, about disaster, about who belongs—that have long shaped policy in the region.
Citações Notáveis
It is not possible to think only of actions after extreme climate events, but of continuity and future projection.— Jandiro Adriano Koch, author
The region still lacks complex analyses of its own formation, which were often unequal among diverse human groups.— Jandiro Adriano Koch
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did you focus on Pinguela specifically? There are other flood-prone neighborhoods in the valley.
Pinguela is where I'm from. But more than that, it's a place where you can see the whole problem clearly—how history, geography, economics, and human choice all intersect. It's not exceptional; it's representative.
The floods happened while you were researching. Did that change what you were trying to do?
It validated the urgency, honestly. The floods scattered families and destroyed archives I needed. But it also showed me that the research itself was necessary—not as an academic exercise, but as a way to preserve what was being lost and to ask better questions about why people stay in dangerous places.
Your book challenges the idea that people stay because they're poor. What's really keeping them there?
It's not one thing. A person might have a job nearby, family roots going back generations, no money for a deposit on a new apartment, and a sense of belonging that no other neighborhood offers. Remove one of those factors and they might leave. But when they're all present together, staying becomes rational, even if it's risky.
How does gender and ethnicity fit into this?
The traditional history of Estrela erased entire populations by focusing only on European immigration and elite narratives. But women and non-European communities shaped the city too. Their experiences of vulnerability are different, and those differences matter for understanding why some people are more trapped than others.
What do you hope happens with this book?
I hope it reaches policymakers and other researchers. But mostly I hope it gives the people of Pinguela a chance to see their own history taken seriously—not as a disaster story, but as a story about resilience, choice, and the structures that constrain both.