At first there was barely an institution. Cenamo later described himself as an \u201cING\u201d<\/a>, an indiv\u00edduo n\u00e3o governamental, carrying a computer in his backpack. Idesam became an \u201cONG de garagem\u201d, or garage NGO. From there he began looking for ways to direct money toward forest conservation and the people whose livelihoods depended on it.<\/p>\n One of his early interests was REDD+, the effort to pay tropical countries and communities for reducing emissions from deforestation. Cenamo became one of its early Brazilian advocates. In a 2013 article responding to critics<\/a>, he acknowledged that the mechanism was unfinished and contested. He still believed it could be useful.<\/p>\n That approach carried through much of his career. Cenamo was willing to work with mechanisms that were complicated or incomplete if he thought they could be improved and put to use. His attention gradually widened from carbon markets to agroforestry, entrepreneurship, investment, and what became known as the bioeconomy.<\/p>\n Apu\u00ed, in southern Amazonas, provided one test. The municipality had suffered heavy deforestation, much of it for cattle. Idesam worked with farmers to replace degraded pasture with agroforestry systems producing coffee. Cenamo liked to explain the economics in simple terms<\/a>. A hectare of cattle pasture might produce R$700-800 in annual income; agroforestry coffee could generate R$7,000-10,000. Caf\u00e9 Apu\u00ed eventually became a business in its own right.<\/p>\n He traveled with packets of the coffee and pressed them on people he met. Vanessa Adachi, a journalist and founder of the Brazilian environmental publication Reset, recalled after his death<\/a> that he could seem like Caf\u00e9 Apu\u00ed\u2019s most enthusiastic salesman.<\/p>\n Adachi\u2019s portrait of Cenamo<\/a> also shows how he worked. He moved easily among Indigenous leaders, investors, entrepreneurs, environmentalists, and officials. He listened closely, introduced people to one another, and tried to move ideas toward implementation. Joanna Martins, the founder of the Amazonian food company Manioca, told Adachi that Cenamo was among the first people to take her business seriously. He invested, advised her, promoted the company\u2019s products, and introduced other investors.<\/p>\n Over time, Cenamo became increasingly interested in what such businesses needed around them. Amazonian entrepreneurs required patient capital, technical assistance, logistics, markets, and skilled workers. He thought investors accustomed to Silicon Valley often brought expectations that did not fit the region<\/a>. Building a company in Manaus or the Amazonian interior could take longer and require different combinations of philanthropy, debt, and equity.<\/p>\n He also argued that the bioeconomy would have to be dispersed. The Amazon was too varied for a handful of large companies to represent it. He imagined hundreds of locally rooted businesses, adapted to different places, cultures, and products.<\/p>\n Markets, in Cenamo\u2019s view, were only part of the picture. In an essay proposing seven measures<\/a> to save the Amazon, his first was strengthening Ibama, ICMBio, and Funai, the public agencies responsible for environmental enforcement and Indigenous affairs. Illegal enterprises had an enormous advantage when enforcement was weak.<\/p>\n He kept returning to the question of who benefited<\/a>. Shortly before his death, according to Adachi<\/a>, Cenamo objected to a corporate carbon-credit tender that excluded agroforestry. Such a rule, he argued, would shut out small farmers, settlers, and communities. He wanted to know what the decision would mean for income and prosperity in the Amazon.<\/p>\n Cancer increasingly interrupted his work. Cenamo underwent treatment for several years. Adachi once drove him to the hospital for chemotherapy. The next day, while dealing with its effects, he contacted her to recommend a strategic-planning consultant for Reset. Even then, his attention kept moving toward other people\u2019s projects.<\/p>\n By that point, the man who had arrived in Manaus with a computer in his backpack had helped create Idesam<\/a>, an investment accelerator called AMAZ, the Fiinsa festival for Amazonian entrepreneurship, and a network around businesses that barely constituted a sector when he arrived. He remained frustrated by how slowly money reached them.<\/p>\n Mariano Cenamo died on July 10th<\/a>, aged 46. Illness had already forced him to withdraw from much of his work. Yet Adachi found him still talking enthusiastically about the next Fiinsa.<\/p>\n The economic problem that drew him to this work at 23 remains. Forest is still often worth more on a balance sheet after it has been cut, mined, or converted to pasture than while it is standing. Cenamo spent 22 years testing ways to change that. By the end, he had accumulated many answers, none of them sufficient on its own.<\/p>\n Banner image: Mariano Cenamo. Photo by Renato Stockler \/ Folha Press<\/p>\n Cite this articleRhett Ayers Butler (2026). Mariano Cenamo, advocate for a sustainable Amazon bioeconomy, has died, aged 46. Mongabay Conservation news. DOI: https:\/\/doi.org\/10.66709\/news-325742<\/a> <\/p>\n ![\"Mariano](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/il\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/08\/Mariano-Cenamo-credito-AMAZ-RodrigoDuarte-1536x864-1-1200x675.jpg\")
<\/a>Mariano Cenamo. Photo by Rodrigo Duarte \/ AMAZ<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/il\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/08\/a81409e64d34c22fc5eb136dcb9eb756ce6393a217056782ac4dec4b7f76f1f2.png\")
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