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"They tell me they’re going to end up killing me, but at some point this has to stop"

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Mauro Aguilar, Forestry Truck Driver Injured in the Face

As a child, Mauro Aguilar used to watch logging trucks pass by the window of his grandmother’s house in Capitán Pastene. They were his obsession—he drew them and dreamed of driving them. That’s why, by the age of eight, he already knew how to operate tractors in the fields, and at 11, he climbed into trucks with his father, who was a forestry truck driver. "My dad worked with trucks, and that’s where my passion came from. I’ve always loved the forestry sector, and in Capitán Pastene, almost the entire town works in it."
He finished high school at the Liceo Industrial in Angol as an automotive mechanic technician. Since he did well on the PSU (university entrance exam), his family encouraged him to study Medical Technology. He was pursuing that when his father became the victim of an attack in 2019—his truck, which he drove for Forestal Mininco, was burned. "It was traumatic. He was given psychological leave because they beat him badly. It was hard for him to return to driving trucks. When he finally got back into one, he lasted two weeks and couldn’t continue. So, I couldn’t afford to keep spending money we didn’t have. I wasn’t working, only studying, so I had to freeze my studies and go to work."
It was his chance to do what he had always dreamed of—drive trucks—but first, he needed the proper license. "It’s a serious crime to operate a heavy vehicle without the required license. With the A5 license, I could drive articulated trucks. These are professional licenses—you have to take a course, pass a psychological test, be at least 21 years old, and certify both physical and theoretical knowledge," Mauro explains. Thanks to a simulator course he completed, he obtained his A5 license at 21.
"No one wanted to hire me because I was just starting out with the license and had no experience. So, I began working at a Petrobras gas station in Capitán Pastene. One day, while joking around with a customer, the opportunity came up to drive small forestry trucks. He had known my dad for years and gave me the chance."
"The first day I went to work with the trucks, I was like a kid in a toy store. The feeling of doing something you love is incredible. You’re happy all day."
"I got teased a lot because I’d get lost or didn’t know the roads well, but I managed with the help of my colleagues. They were really cool with me because they knew I was just starting, so they helped me a lot. We’d go to the fields, my boss would buy timber, and we’d transport it. It was super fun—the best school a forestry driver can have is working independently. Nothing compares to it."
At the end of summer, he was offered a double shift (two drivers for the same truck—one works days, the other nights). "My boss had trucks working for Mininco at Transportes Cartes in Angol, and they needed two drivers. He offered me and a colleague the double shift. We were happy because it meant moving up—going from independent work to Mininco is a step up, and the pay was good. Independent work pays well, but Mininco pays better."
After a while, Mauro had another goal—to join Transportes Capitán Pastene, where his father had worked as a forestry truck driver. "I asked if I could join, and they said yes. I did it because my dad worked there and because they only do day shifts. They assigned me one of their newest trucks, and I worked in it from October 2021 until January 2022, when the accident happened."
The Accident
The accident occurred during a week when three attacks and two murders took place. The day before, on January 18, 22-year-old César Millahual Cayupe was killed—shot in the back by masked men who surrounded his skidder in Cañete. Hours later, 68-year-old farmer Joel Ovalle, who had led the Alboyanco Water Board for years, was murdered in Collipulli.
"I knew there was a risk, but I never imagined something would happen to me. I used to drive late at night, and nothing ever happened. I had thought that at some point, it might happen to me, but I never imagined they’d shoot me there."
"I was happy, singing along, and then, on the Las Rosas road connecting Los Sauces and Lumaco, I was approaching a sharp curve and slowed down. Just as I was going slow, they shot at me three times. If they had made me stop, I would have. The problem was they just shot at me. Then they came out to block me, still shouting and shooting, and I panicked. I didn’t realize I’d been hit. I drove away as fast as I could, and about 200 meters later, I felt something dripping on my chin. It was blood. I touched my face—it was swollen. I put my hand in my mouth and couldn’t feel my teeth. I choked on blood and spat teeth and pieces of my jaw into my hand. They shot me with shotgun pellets—the kind that spread. Luckily, the shot was relatively close; otherwise, I’d have lost my eye or just died," he recalls.
Mauro Aguilar, 23, a truck driver from Capitán Pastene, injured in the face by unknown assailants, drove his truck to the Lumaco CESFAM (family health center) before being transferred to Traiguén Hospital and later to Temuco Hospital.
The shot caused multiple fractures in his jaw, which was replaced with a titanium one. He lost all the teeth on his left side, and his tongue had to be completely reconstructed. His nose was also fractured, and he was at risk of losing vision in one eye. Mauro is still working through the psychological trauma of the attack, as well as rehabilitation therapies provided by the Chilean Safety Association.
"Trucks are a passion for me, but now, seeing one or getting into one is hard. It’s hard to see something that once brought me so much joy, so much passion, now bringing back those memories. My face hurts when I get into a truck, even if it’s parked. I get in and already see a masked man in front of me, aiming at me."
Mauro has his suspicions about who was responsible. "The PDI (Investigative Police) took my statement, but no one claimed responsibility for the attack—because having a wounded driver is bad publicity for them. But from conversations, I have an idea of who they are. They’re not bad kids, but they’re fed an ideology and don’t think for themselves."
"I’ve thought a lot about what would’ve happened if they’d shot me a little higher or further back—I’d be dead. I’ve come to terms with it now. Nothing to do but move forward. If you dwell on the past, you’ll drown in it and hurt yourself more."
"I love working in forestry. If someone told me it was going to end, I wouldn’t know what to do. To those who don’t like forestry, I’d say they should get informed—because the forestry sector is one of the biggest contributors to the country. Everyday products like toilet paper, tissues, and paper towels come from forestry. If it ended, we’d have to import them, affecting the GDP. How many people would lose their jobs? Hundreds of thousands work in this, entire towns like Capitán Pastene. Everyone is affected by these unjustifiable attacks. If someone wants to reclaim ancestral land, they don’t need to shoot at trucks or burn them. They already have more benefits than any Chilean—it’s stupid to burn trucks and machinery."
Defend or Flee
Mauro explains that because of the attacks, people are migrating north or south to work—no one wants to work in La Araucanía. "It’s a death sentence to tell a guy my age he’s going to work in Carahue. He’d rather get fired than go to Pastene, Carahue, or Imperial—it’s terrible. The work conditions themselves are better, the pay is higher, job security matters—but none of that makes up for the danger of attacks."
"I’m from this area—they’ll have to take me out in a coffin. I was born and raised here. Why should I go work somewhere else when there’s work here? If I have to fight for my job, I will. That’s what we all should do instead of running away."
He wants to return, "even though everyone tells me I’m crazy, that they’ll end up killing me. I believe at some point, this has to stop."