From the beginning, a headlong scramble to access manufactured goods like clothing, axes and machetes had drawn Waorani into oil company contact. Even back in 1974, in the hopes of luring helicopters and their booty, Caempaede's group, at Gabado, built helipads with mock scribbling on sticks in imitation of helipad markers. A man called Tedecawae even composed a new song about helicopters in the hopes that singing it would induce helicopters to come bearing gifts. For nearly two decades the Waorani welcomed oil exploration because the seismic lines cleared by company crews made excellent trails for travel or hunting. In addition, the massive wealth of goods, food and new experiences attracted Waorani to seek employment with oil companies as labourers.

The encroachment was increasing the pressure on the now confused Waorani to integrate. Caempaede's group moved back to the Cononaco airstrip where, in spite of the risk of diseases brought in by outsiders, they believed they would have more access to material goods; air transport for medical care; and access to schools. Little by little, as all these things began to assume an importance unknown before, they were losing their independence.

The oil companies continued their encroachment on traditional lands, and the first road was constructed with astonishing speed in 1982. The road, in itself, was relatively benign. But, like the wake from a tanker, it brought with it wave after wave of colonists seeking wealth or escape from trouble elsewhere. Quichuas from the Andes, Quichuas from the rain forest, blacks and mestizos from the Ecuadorian coast, Shuar from the Ecuadorian-Peruvian border, Colombians of various stripes - they all invaded with the persistence of a horde of army ants, consuming the forest in their path. In the vanguard, clearing the way for all of these were an aggressive pack who have low regard for life in general, but for Indians and Waorani in particular. The Waorani were pushed farther and farther into the recesses of the forest.