(Above: “No to mining, yes to life” reads a poster commemorating the four Cabañas anti-mining activists killed last year: Marcelo Rivera; Dora Alicia Recinos; Manuel, her unborn child; and Ramiro Rivera.)
SAN ISIDRO, Cabañas, El Salvador – I came to this quiet mountain community last week for a commemoration ceremony for three anti-mining activists who were killed here last year in the wake of ongoing protests against the operations of Canadian mining company Pacific Rim.
Cabañas, the second-poorest department in the country, was a guerilla stronghold during the war and the site of several massacres. These days it’s a quiet backwater of subsistence agriculture whose barely pronounceable capital city, Sensuntepeque, is home to about 35,000 people.
That quiet was broken in 2005 with the arrival of Pacific Rim, which came bearing promises of economic development and something the previous corporate-friendly ARENA government termed “green mining.” The same party that had held power since the war, when it ran the death squads that imposed a reign of terror on the populace, granted the company exploration permits, provoking widespread dissent.
Tiny El Salvador, with the densest population in Latin America and a looming water crisis, is not an appropriate place for mining, opponents argued. The current president, FMLN leader Mauricio Funes, ran his campaign as an anti-mining candidate, and once in office, he declared the country off-limits to mining. Pacific Rim responded with a $77 million lawsuit against the country under the Central American Free Trade Agreement.
I arrived in San Isidro to find Father Neftali Ruíz at the head of the march for justice, with Father Luis Quintanilla and Bishop Gabriel Orellana not far behind. They were wearing white robes with colorful scarves influenced by El Salvador’s indigenous past, much like the vestments worn by Archbishop Oscar Romero and the four Jesuit priests who were assassinated during the civil war for their defense of human rights. Those priests’ garments, some of them bullet-ridden and stained with blood, are on display in a museum in San Salvador. But these fathers showed the truth in the Romero quote on banners and T-shirts all over the country: “If I die, I will be reborn among my people.”
Father Neftalí was an animated young man who rallied the crowds as they arrived at the Central Plaza. Later I was shocked to learn that he, too, has been receiving death threats.
“Que Viva Marcelo Rivera!” he cried. “Long live Marcelo Rivera, who still walks among us! Long live the martyrs of Cabañas!”
Marcelo Rivera was a teacher, an artist and a community leader who was outspoken in his opposition to Pacific Rim’s mining operations. He mysteriously disappeared a year ago, on June 18, 2009, and his body was found eight days later at the bottom of a well, with obvious signs of torture. Local authorities dismissed the incident as common delinquency, and to date, no one has been charged with his murder.
The cultural center where Rivera once taught has been renamed in his honor, and repainted with a mural featuring his face and the words, “Those who die for life cannot be called dead.”
In December, following Rivera’s death, two other anti-mining activists were murdered in Cabañas, including Dora Alicia Recinos, who was eight months pregnant at the time.
Friday’s march culminated with an outdoor interfaith religious service officiated by Catholic, Anglican and Lutheran ministers. The service was held in front of the cultural center, with Rivera’s somber face in the background like a benevolent ghost.
“We are here to honor the memory of our martyrs,” began Father Neftali. “They deserve all of our honor and respect because they gave their lives just like Jesus Christ, to defend their people and future generations…We are here to celebrate their lives and to bring together the people who believe in the God of life and who also believe another world is possible.”
Lutheran minister Carlos Najera Medardo Gomez then came forward. “Satan is acting to destroy the plan that God has for each of us to have a life with dignity,” he said. “Destroying nature so that a few can fill their pockets with money is not justice… The only thing the poor have is the land, and if that is taken, they have nothing.”
Father Quintanilla, whose life was also threatened last year by two hooded assailants, took up the words of the prophet Isaiah, who told of an honorable man who was murdered and his case was not taken seriously by the authorities.
“Marcelo Rivera was kidnapped, tortured, killed and then found, and the authorities say it’s common delinquency,” said Quintanilla. “But the antecedents that mark the disappearance of Marcelo are not being taken into account: that Marcelo confronted an imperialist system imposed on this place, governed by the right wing in service to Pacific Rim.
“Nevertheless the Word of God gives us the courage to continue in the struggle. They sacrificed the life of little Manuel, still in the womb of his mother, Dora. In the hole of a rock they have found gold and they want to worship it…. They want to destroy our environment. But we must be attentive to discover and unmask the lies that threaten our land and our people.”
And Bishop Orellana of the Renovated Anglican Church read the story of Cain and Abel from the book of Genesis. The words of God rang out as an accusation to a modern-day Cain: “What have you done? The voice and the blood of your brother cries to me from the earth.”
After the Mass, I visited with Vidalina Morales, one of the leading opponents of Pacific Rim, who had marched in protests and raised her voice alongside Marcelo Riveras. Morales is no stranger to violence, having fought with the guerillas for 12 years, and her tiny frame belies the steely strength in her voice as she lays out her case against mining in tiny, overpopulated El Salvador. Wells and springs are already drying up in the communities uphill from the company’s exploration wells, she says, and the mining hasn’t even begun.
“Most of us campesinos, we are barely growing enough food to survive,” she explained. “We can get by right now – but if they destroy our water, what will we do?”
I asked her if she’s ever afraid, and for a moment I saw the softer side of Vidalina.
“Of course I’m afraid – not for myself, but for my children, for my family, for those close to me,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “In the end, if they want to do something to me, they’ll do it, and so be it. But I’ve seen this in the struggles against the people – they seek to hurt us in the deepest ways possible, so yes, I’m afraid. But at the same time the fear gives us strength to keep fighting – and we will keep on fighting because justice is on our side.”
Vidalina is one of the directors of ADES, an organization that was born of the need to resettle the people of Santa Marta, a whole town that fled to Honduras during the height of the war. Vidalina was one of those who, as a child, was forced to cross the border under horrendous conditions to save their lives.
ADES, the Association for Economic and Social Development, has expanded its mission to the whole department of Cabañas, and is involved in an impressive array of programs to improve the lives of its citizens. Resistance to the mining operations is something they see as key to promoting equitable and sustainable development.
“They say they are going to bring development, but development is a mirage,” said Nelson Ventura, another ADES staff member who has been active in the resistance. Ventura narrowly escaped an apparent attempt on his life when a man swung a machete at him from behind. He saw it coming in the rearview mirror of a nearby car and dodged the blow. But when he reported the incident to the authorities, they just laughed it off and said, “Oh, he was just trying to scare you.”
Despite the threats on his life, and the loss of his friends and fellow activists, Nelson, the father of four, feels more committed than ever to the cause.
“Sure, I’ve thought of leaving, but what would I do? I have to teach my children to walk in the road of dignity. They have the right to a clean environment. If you don’t stand up for your rights, you have nothing.”
He ends with a favorite quote from Bertold Brecht, made famous in a song by Cuban revolutionary songwriter Silvio Rodriguez:
“There are good men who fight for a day, better men who fight for a year, and even better men who fight for several years. But the ones who fight all their lives are indispensable.”
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