Mining Archive

The fight for Wirikuta crosses the border

Tracy Barnett

Published: February 19, 2011Posted in: AJAGI, Borderlands, Featured, Indigenous peoples, Mexico, WhyTags: Coahuiltecan, Ho-Chunk, Huicholes, Indigenous peoples, Indigenous rights, Lakota, Latin America, Mining, Native American Church, peyote, sacred sites, Wirikuta, Wixarika

The fight for Wirikuta crosses the border

By Tracy L. Barnett
Translation by Yvonne Negrin

MIRANDO CITY, TEXAS – It was an unforgettable meeting of cultures: Lakota and Navajo, Chippewa and Cree, Coahuiltecan and Chichimecan and more, joining hearts and minds wth their Wixaritari brothers in a hogan in South Texas.

“Never in my life did I imagine that this moment would come,” said Efren Bautista Parra, a diminutive yet powerful marakame, or shaman, and the traditional governor of San Andrés Cohamiata, with tears in his eyes. “Just like the joy of this moment, our suffering brings us together in a bond of brotherhood.” Around the fire, cradled in the curve of a crescent moon, the language of spirit transcended words to merge all souls into one.

Efren was one of eight Wixarika leaders chosen by their communities in the highlands of Jalisco, Durango and Nayarit to travel from their communities to this town in Mirando City, Texas. They were there to attend the International Convention of the Native American Church, a union of Native American peoples of North America dedicated to preserving the right to traditional use of the sacred peyote plant, or medicine as it is known.

“Never did we imagine that there were others who, like us, use the sacred hikuri as we do in their ceremonies and prayers,” he said.

The Native American Church is comprised of various tribal peoples from the United States and Canada, who consider peyote a sacrament and use it in their prayers and ceremonies. Upon learning that a Canadian mining company, First Majestic Silver Corp., has acquired 22 concessions, granted by the Mexican government, to exploit minerals in the sacred land of Wirikuta, the birthplace of the Wixarika’s Father Sun and the ecosystem where the sacred plant grows, the Native American Church invited representatives of the Wixarika communities (also known as Huichol) to attend its convention on 11, 12 and 13 of February in Mirando City, Texas.

Some of them had been traveling for days to arrive in Guadalajara, where a race to acquire visas and passports culminated in a 15-hour overnight bus ride from Guadalajara. An hour of lines and paperwork at the border was followed by an hour of travel from Laredo to Mirando City in a rented van through the desert considered a sacred place for members of the Native American Church.

Unfazed by the lack of rest, the delegation arrived energized and eager to meet their northern counterparts. In the Mirando Community Center, festooned with hearts and balloons for the upcoming Valentine’s Day celebration, the delegation was welcomed with open arms by the Indian nations of the north, a greeting which was followed by an extensive and sincere dialogue.

“We are the keepers of the sacred land of Wirikuta,” said Felipe Serio Chino, secretary of the Wixárika Ceremonial Centers of Jalisco, Durango and Nayarit. “We conduct our pilgrimages there every year, as our ancestors entrusted us to do, so that life can continue to be reborn. It is inconceivable to us that from one moment to the next, a site this sacred can be destroyed. This Canadian company is very powerful, but we hope that perhaps with partnerships like this one we can win in the defense of Wirikuta.”

Santos De La Cruz Carrillo, an attorney and an appointed official from Bancos de San Hipólito, Durango, explained the process of the formation of the Wirikuta Defense Front of Tamatsima Wahaa.

“We know they are in violation of our rights. What they have planned is an attack on our culture. We want this to be known not only nationally but internationally,” he said.

“We are here to build bridges and join forces with the indigenous peoples of the North. We invite you to work with us and to integrate into the Front in any way you can to help defend what is sacred in life. Our prayers and ceremonies are to renew the candles of life, not just for the Wixárika people, but for the whole world.”

Sandor Iron Rope, a Lakota leader from South Dakota and Vice-President of the Native American Church of North America, was the first to answer.

“We understand the process of colonization on both sides of the border,”he said. “We can unite in the defense of our medicine. We are the legitimate guardians of this continent and we must create a struggle to continue spreading awareness among those who do not understand.”

Sandor shared a song he had written for Wirikuta in his native Lakota:

Several members of the Native American Church told of how the peyote had changed and even saved their lives, such as Lance Long, a member of the Ho-Chunk people of Wisconsin. Long told of how as a baby he was on the verge of death, and medical doctors could do nothing to help. Finally, his parents gave him his first peyote tea. “I am alive today thanks to medicine,” he said.

Members of the Coahuiltecan delegation of Texas reiterated their support as an indigenous sister nation bound by the long history of medicinal use of peyote by both indigenous groups. They expressed that the desecration of sacred sites must stop and that the defense of Wirikuta is the same as defending Our Mother Earth.

The two-day dialogue included a ceremony in which several saw visions of the Condor and the Eagle, symbols of North and South. Sandor Iron Rope expressed it as a vision from the beginning of time, in which the Eagle and the Condor flew together as in the beginning of the world.

Agreements were manifested in the Native American Church of North America signing of a letter by the Wixárika delegation, proposing a collaboration with the Church and a pledge of brotherhood and solidarity. The assembly of the Native American Church of North America unanimously voted to join the Wirikuta Defense Front.

José García, spiritual leader of the Coahuiltecan nation, sang during the ceremony in his native language and in a voice that resonated from another dimension. Later he explained that he had actually visited Wirikuta during the ceremony, and he shared the story behind the song.

“Several years ago I was commissioned to talk to the Wixaritari (Huichol) to tell them that our elders dreamed that something bad was happening in Wirikuta,” he recalled. “At that time I didn’t understand. Tonight I realized what it meant, as I visited this sacred place and spoke with Wirikuta during my song. ”

Armando Loizaga and Cristian Chávez contributed to this story.

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Salvadoran environmental activists put their lives on the line

Tracy Barnett

Published: July 17, 2010Posted in: El Salvador, Featured, Mining, Spiritual, WhyTags: activism, Dolores Alicia Recinos, El Salvador, Marcelo Rivera, Mining, Pacific Rim

Salvadoran environmental activists put their lives on the line

(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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Podcast: Oscar Romero lives on in anti-mining movement

Tracy Barnett

Published: July 15, 2010Posted in: El Salvador, Featured, Latin America, Mining, Spiritual, WhyTags: Cabañas, El Salvador, liberation theology, Mining

Podcast: Oscar Romero lives on in anti-mining movement

(Above: An image of Archbishop Oscar Romero, slain by right-wing death squads in 1980 during El Salvador’s civil war. “If I die, I will be reborn among my people.”)

SAN ISIDRO, Cabañas, El Salvador – Cabañas is the second-poorest department in El Salvador, at the heart of a region that was a guerilla stronghold during the war and the site of several massacres. I went there last week for a commemoration of the four anti-mining activists killed last year in the town of San Isidro, where the Canadian mining company Pacific Rim is planning an open-air mine.

Here is a podcast and images from my time in Cabañas – story to come.

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Planting the Kingdom of God in Sibinal

Tracy Barnett

Published: June 30, 2010Posted in: Ecotourism, Featured, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Mining, WhyTags: Caritas, Ecotourism, environment, Guatemala, Latin America, liberation theology, Mennonite Central Committee, Mining, San Marcos, Sibinal, Sustainable development

SIBINAL, San Marcos, Guatemala – Juan Pablo Morales and Nate Howard come from vastly different religious traditions, social circumstances and geographies. But in the end, it was their faith that brought them together in their opposition to the mining industry, and in their project to provide economic alternatives in one of Guatemala’s poorest regions.

For Juan Pablo, it was his faith in a just and loving God; for Nate, it was a faith in the potential of humanity. And for both, as they work together to establish sustainable development options in a region slated for strip mining, it’s a faith that the people can find a way to earn a living from the land without destroying it.

“We are constructing the Kingdom of God among the poor in Guatemala,” Juan Pablo began, his smile as wide as a child’s. “Poverty is not part of God’s plan; poverty is the anti-kingdom. When I speak of the anti-kingdom, I am speaking of the forces of darkness, the forces of empire, of neoliberalism, which tend to flow from the North to the South.”

Juan Pablo speaks the language of liberation theology, an approach to Catholicism born in the deeply divided Latin American continent when brutal dictatorships held sway. Some religious leaders in those days saw the brutal repression coming from the government and chose to side with the poor; many paid with their lives. Eighteen priests and 150 catechists were murdered in Guatemala, according to Juan Pablo’s reckoning, and 400 villages were massacred.

“The Evangelicals are preaching the coming of the apocalypse – but we went through our apocalypse during those 36 years of war.”

The numbers are close to home for him; his brother was among those catechists who were killed. But far from driving him away, it left him with a commitment to follow in his brother’s footsteps. After four years of study he, too, became a passionate teacher of the Catholic faith, and soon he moved into a position with Caritas, a nonprofit Catholic organization serving the poor.

Nate is softer-spoken but no less passionate about the church’s calling to empower the poor. Like many Indiana natives, he was raised an Evangelical Christian, but drifted away from the faith in his youth. He studied at Indiana University and then Eastern Pennsylvania University, getting an MBA in international economic development. Now he is working for the Mennonite Central Committee, helping communities to build sustainable, locally based economic models.

His hands-on experience in Guatemala gave him a completely different view of economics from that he had learned from his economics textbooks.

“Economics is not a science; it’s really the study of human relations,” he says. “It’s about our relations with the earth and with each other; it’s about theology, ecology, sociology.”

He sees his work here as primarily supporting Juan Pablo and the villagers, rather than running the development project. “Our goal is to try to help people see themselves as powerful actors and to work together to see what’s possible,” he said on our bumpy chicken bus ride up the mountain.

Living and working in the San Marcos district in the mountainous western side of Guatemala, close to the Mexican border, has been an eye-opening experience for this Midwesterner. Economic opportunity is so limited here that about 70 percent of the male population of this region has migrated at some point to the United States, and the money they send back is what raises the standard of living above that of extreme and grinding poverty. Now, however, with the economic crisis and increasing anti-immigrant sentiment, more and more Guatemalan immigrants are finding themselves out of work; many are heading back home, some compliments of U.S. Homeland Security.

Nate and I rose at 4 a.m. this morning to catch a bus for the two-hour drive to the town of Sibinal, and from there we were going to climb a mountain to La Vega del Volcán and see the fish hatchery. But the top of the mountain is cloaked in a blackish grey, and as we order our eggs and black beans and coffee, Nate’s contacts in La Vega call to warn him that the village is being deluged in a downpour.

The sheer rocky climb is hard enough when it’s dry, Nate tells me, and Juan Pablo arrives and seconds his concern. “You can probably make it, but you will suffer,” he said. So I settle in for an interview instead.

What Nate and Juan Pablo are focusing on is a loosely organized network of cooperatives in several rural villages in the municipality of Sibinal. One is a trout hatchery in La Vega, where the clear, spring-fed mountain streams make this hard-to-cultivate species a natural. The hatchery has been such a success that the community is now working on Phase II, raising fingerlings to sell to surrounding communities.

(Trout farm at La Vega del Volcán: Nate Howard photo)

Other agricultural projects, including potatoes and ornamental flowers, have helped diversify the regional market opportunities beyond subsistence maize and beans, and have brought in a little cash.

(Flower farm at La Linea: Nate Howard photo)

But what has Nate most excited at the moment is the ecotourism project, which would take travelers on a variety of treks, most of them through the unspoiled wilderness of the Tacaná volcano on the border with Mexico.
After breakfast with Nate and Juan Pablo, they took me down to the municipal building to speak with local council members, and I fielded a lineup of rave reviews for their work.

“There’s been a lot of international aid organizations here over the years; they’ve spent millions of dollars, and little has changed,” said Elfego Zunún Ortiz, one of the council members. “But we’re seeing now how these folks are doing an extremely effective project without spending a lot of money, just by involving the people in the leadership and planning of the project – and we have great hope.”

Domingo Javier Godines, another council member, stressed the importance of sustainable development projects like these as an alternative to mining. “We see the mining as bringing development to the United States, to Canada, to Europe – but it brings very little development to us, the poorest people in Guatemala – just 1 percent of the profits stay in Guatemala,” he says.

I’ve heard the statistic many times and have verified it; as hard to believe as it seems, it’s true.

Godines went on to describe the scene at a mining project he’d visited in El Salvador. At the foot of the mountain, 35 communities had lost their water source – a situation he predicts will happen here if the mining is allowed to continue.

Howard, for his part, underscores the importance of these development projects as an alternative to the mines.

“We believe that this type of community organizing and economic development will have a major impact on how communities like Sibinal respond to mining proposals in the future,” he wrote in a recent report. “Why would the people of La Vega del Volcán consider selling their natural springs and land to a mining corporation if they are being used for their trout production and other sustainable agricultural enterprises? Why would the communities of Sibinal acquiesce to the destruction of the mountains and bird habitats that attract paying tourists to their villages?”

Why indeed. He’s shared a few photos with me, and it’s enough to make me return – when it’s not rainy season. I want to see this breathtaking beauty for myself, and I want more than anything for the group to be successful in preserving this spectacular corner of the Kingdom of God.

Meanwhile, for more information about the project, to book a trek, to contribute to the project or to volunteer, contact Nate Howard at natedavehow@yahoo.com.

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Sipacapa five years later: Still not for sale?

Tracy Barnett

Published: June 26, 2010Posted in: Featured, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Mining, WhyTags: Catholic Church, COPAE, Goldcorp, Guatemala, Marlin Mine, Mining, San Marcos, Sipacapa, Sipakapa

Sipacapa five years later: Still not for sale?

(Above: A poster produced by COPAE, the Pastoral Commission on Peace and Ecology, displayed around the region: “I am Sipacapan and I care for my territory because: Where there is mining, there are contaminated rivers. Scientific studies demonstrate that the water of the Quivichil and Tzala rivers are contaminated with high levels of heavy metals and should not be used. ALL MINES CONTAMINATE.”)

SIPACAPA, Guatemala – For many Guatemalans, the very name of this town has become a symbol of the indigenous resistance to transnational mining operations that has swept this land in recent years.
Last week, on the fifth anniversary of an event that launched that resistance, hundreds have gathered to celebrate, but the mood was anything but celebratory.

Five years ago on this day, on June 18, 2005, the villages of this rural municipality held a series of community consultas, or plebiscites, expressing their unanimous rejection of the presence of international mining companies. The mostly Mayan residents of this region had just learned that their government had literally sold the land out from underneath them, granting hundreds of mining concessions to international corporations in the decade since the peace accords without consulting with them.

These consultas, the basis for the form of participatory democracy practiced by indigenous peoples all over the world, are required under international law, but the Guatemalan government had chosen not to observe that law. So the people decided to hold their own consulta, and their action inspired a movement. Sipakapa was the subject of a documentary celebrating the victory – “Sipakapa no se vende,” or “Sipakapa is not for sale.”

Growing like a quiet grassfire, the movement spread across the Guatemalan highlands, and now, an estimated 600,000 people have voted “NO” to the mining operations and to other transnational activities on their lands. The government has responded by declaring the consultas nonbinding, but the movement continues to grow, and it has been recognized internationally.

There was every reason to celebrate on this anniversary. After five years of struggle, indigenous Guatemalan voices were being heard around the world. The Interamerican Commission on Human Rights had just recommended that operations at the mine be suspended pending further study, following a University of Michigan investigation revealing elevated levels of contaminants in rivers and in the blood of nearby residents. Now, United Nations Special Rapporteur James Anaya, probably the world’s highest-ranking authority on indigenous rights, was touring the region, listening to the peoples’ concerns and expressing his support.

But on the day of the anniversary, a sea of grim faces gathered at City Hall and looked as their elected officials explained why they had accepted 8 million quetzales, the equivalent of $980,000 U.S., from Montana Exploradora, the Guatemalan subsidiary of the transnational mining company Goldcorp.

Sipacapa’s location at the edge of the highly productive Marlin Mine, along with its very visible role as a symbol of indigenous resistance made it a logical target for Goldcorp’s future investment, so it came as no surprise when the company began offering money to local officials for development projects, “no strings attached.” Until now, they had resisted.

Under the traditional form of government practiced here and in most indigenous communities, leaders are not authorized to make major decisions without involving the citizenry in public meetings – direct democracy at its most pure. In Sipacapa, some were saying, this had not happened.

Mayor Delfino Tema, dressed in white, was there to set the record straight. He explained to several hundred townspeople that municipal officials had accepted the offer only after consulting with local residents and hearing from several communities that they wanted to have access to the funds. Furthermore, the money will be administered by the company, not by the municipality, he said, to avoid the appearance of a conflict of interest.

“There are those who say we’ve already been dining on the money given to us by the company. Nothing could be further from the truth – we haven’t even seen the money,” he insisted. “The community rules, and we are going to do what you say. We’re going to decide together how to spend this money in community meetings that are open for all to attend. We are going to continue in the struggle against the mining company.”

Applause was polite but muted, and the crowd filed out of the municipal hall and made its way across town to the parish hall for the celebratory Mass and lunch. The muttering and the placards indicated there was widespread discontent.

Meanwhile, I took advantage of the moment to call aside Arcilia Cruz Carillo of the nearby town of Canoj – one of few women mayors in the region – to ask her thoughts about Tema’s comments. Tema, as municipal mayor, serves as the chief administrator for the entire municipality of Sipacapa, which includes Canoj and all the other towns and settlements throughout the region.

Carillo was not happy. “The truth is, it’s pretty confusing because our leaders first said no, then yes. We’re seeing our water contaminated, our community divided – so it’s pretty sad, but we’ve always been courageous in this struggle. We pray to God that this company take its money back and leave as soon as possible.”

It was standing room only in the Catholic Church, decked out in green satin for the occasion. I didn’t know what to expect; Father Mario had declined from speaking with me before the meeting, saying he was a recent arrival in the community, and my friends from COPAE said he’d been reluctant to get involved.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long to realize that this would be no ordinary Mass.

Father Mario, robed in white, stepped quietly to the pulpit and took a cue from Jesus’ sermon to his disciples from the book of Luke.

“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on. The life is more than meat, and the body is more than raiment. Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?  

“Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Then he switched to Matthew, and things began to get interesting.

“No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and the mineria.”

Padre Mario was indeed taking a side.

“What is the kingdom of God?” he asked them. “Some say it’s the afterlife. I say it’s justice; that’s what we’re all looking for. But we all know the other god can be money, which can become an idol.”

He then delivered an eloquently rendered sermon that recalled Jesus warning his disciples of pending betrayal.
“We look for miracles at the last minute,” he warned. “A poor people is easy to buy; but the salaries will be carried to the cantinas, to dark places that divide my people.

“God created a garden, not a desert…what are you doing, my people?”

Communion was celebrated in silence; the closing prayer was prayed. But before we took our leave, Padre Mario opened the meeting for public comments.

“Remember our enemies are not of flesh and blood,” said Juan Montorroso of the Council of Pueblos of San Marcos, of which Sipacapa is a part. “They are the transnationals who are on top of us, manipulating us. The dignity of Sipacapa is worth much more than 8 million quetzales.

“Remember, the Spaniards deceived our grandfathers with a few pieces of gold. What will we tell our children and our grandchildren of the decision we are making right now?”

After the service, Montorroso reflected on the current situation in Sipacapa.

“This confusion is created by the company itself; it’s a part of their strategy,” he said. “They’re looking for multiple mechanisms to divide the community. But Sipacapa is a community with a great deal of dignity, and I think at the end of the day, they will reaffirm to Latin America and to the world that dignity is not for sale. “

A few scenes from Sipacapa’s celebration.

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Podcast: Mayans say “No to mining, yes to life”

Tracy Barnett

Published: June 25, 2010Posted in: Featured, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Mining, PodcastsTags: Goldcorp, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, James Anaya, Mining

Podcast: Mayans say “No to mining, yes to life”

(Above: James Anaya, U.N. Special Rapporteur on Indigenous Rights (left), and Mayan leader Francisco Mateo Rocael, flanked by thousands of Mayan mining resisters at Zaculeu, the Mam Maya ruins outside Huehuetenango.)

HUEHUETENANGO, Guatemala – They arrived in pickup trucks, in school buses and on foot, resplendent in the vibrant purples and reds, blues and yellows of their native highlands. They came by the thousands to witness a day that would mark history for their people: a visit from James Anaya, the world’s highest-ranking indigenous advocate, U.N. Special Rapporteur for Indigenous Rights.

“There are some who believe the Mayans are gone, and all that remains are these ruins,” a man dressed in white was speaking from the stage. “We are here to tell them: we are alive, and we are hear to bring these monuments back to life.”

Listen to the podcast:

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Goldcorp’s Marlin Mine: “Development for death”

Tracy Barnett

Published: June 24, 2010Posted in: Featured, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Mining, WhyTags: Central America, environment, Goldcorp, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Latin America, Marlin Mine, Mayans, Mining

Goldcorp’s Marlin Mine: “Development for death”

Author’s note (June 24, 2010): Today’s Prensa Libre carried the news that the Guatemalan government has agreed to abide by the requests of the Interamerican Commission on Human Rights, the Catholic Church, the International Labor Organization and the U.N. Special Rapporteur on Indigenous Rights and has ordered the temporary suspension of operations at the Marlin Mine. Goldcorp, the Canadian owner, has announced it will continue operations. “We welcome this opportunity to demonstrate once again Goldcorp’s record of respectful, environmental sound operations at Marlin,” Goldcorp CEO Chuck Jeannes was quoted in Mineweb, a publication covering the mining industry.
This is the second in a series about Anaya’s recent visit to Guatemala and the issues surrounding that visit.

SAN MIGUEL IXTAHUACAN – The road up into this mountain town seems to wind forever upward, and I’m frustrated because we’re late. The meeting with the U.N Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous People, James Anaya, is scheduled to begin his meeting with the people at 8. I don’t understand why Joshue is stopping for breakfast.

I needn’t have worried. I’m with Josue Navarro and Bart Van Besien, two members of the dedicated staff of COPAE, the Pastoral Commission for Peace and Ecology, and their peaceful trajectory is in keeping with local traditions.

We arrive at the parish hall to find it filled with animated people in their colorful native dress, milling excitedly around a spectacular mandala created from colored sawdust and flowers in the center of the floor – but no James Anaya. Feeling lucky to find a seat, I settle in and wait; listen to a few speeches and a few marimba tunes, shoot a few photos and wait some more.

This is a big day in San Miguel Ixtahuacan. This small town has drawn big headlines in the past few months, and has been the subject of several documentaries. That’s because the transnational Goldcorp has a tremendously profitable mine here, the Marlin Mine, which many in this Mam Maya community say they never agreed to.
Residents complain of strange rashes on their children’s skins and other symptoms, of cracks in the walls of houses near the mine, and of repression from local authorities when they dare to speak out against the mine. A recent study by University of Michigan physicians showed elevated levels of heavy metals in the blood of residents living near the mine, but said they were uncertain whether those levels constituted a risk.

Goldcorp officials – here in Guatemala the subsidiary is called Montana Exploradora – say there is no evidence of contamination, and the government so far has agreed.

The wait stretches into an hour, and suddenly everyone gets up to leave. Everyone seems to know what’s going on except Bart and me. “We’re going to the field,” someone explains to me. The field? “Yes, that’s where the helicopter is coming.”

Sure enough, everyone was gathering around a big field, holding up signs that expressed their rejection of the mine.

The helicopter landed to great fanfare and paparazzi, and James Anaya emerged from the helicopter: a tall, photogenic man with Native American features and a gentle smile. He and his entourage were greeted by local leaders and led back to the parish for the proceedings.

The first order of business was a ceremony. A group of beautiful young Mam Maya women and men gather around the mandala and perform a graceful dance in honor of the sacred elements, the water, represented by the earthen pots they carry, and the earth, represented by the green tree seedlings they “plant” at the center of the mandala.

Now it was Anaya’s turn. Hundreds of traditionally dressed Mam Maya highlanders looked on with bated breath as Anaya, perhaps the world’s highest-ranking authority on indigenous issues, knelt before the altar to light the red candle.

“Red signifies abundance, energy and life, and whoever lights the red candle has the responsibility of looking out for the well-being of our community,” Sister Maudilia had said, handing the matches to Anaya.
The task was not as easy as it seemed. The wick was short, and the flame wavered and threatened to fail. Anaya, however, was up to the task. He persisted, working with the candle and nurturing the flame until it grew steady.
The onlookers erupted into applause.

Carmen Mejia, a leader of the San Miguel Association for Integral Development, took the mike and began with a short history of the mining company’s entrance into the community.

“They entered under deceit and lies; they were offering productive jobs for people here. They didn’t say they were a mining company; they never said they were here to extract gold and silver. They said it was a project for development, and they began acquiring lands. Once they had some land they began to coerce the neighbors to sell their land. ‘If you don’t sell to us, you’ll be surrounded and buried,’ they were told if they resisted.”

The company continued, she said, manipulating and gathering signatures under false pretenses.

“The company is operating illegally, because it lacks the social license to be here,” she said. “The people of San Miguel were never consulted.”

Exploration of the mine began, and that’s when the damage began occurring, she said. Neighbors began speaking out.

“The answer was criminalization, persecution, the threatening of campesinos and campesinas. In 2007, we had seven comrades processed; five were liberated, but two were condemned to three years of prison and liberated, under the condition that they stop speaking out against the mine. In 2008, eight women campesina leaders, indigenous Mam Maya women, were under an order of capture, just for speaking out for their rights. In 2009, five campesinos were arrested and charged, and in 2010 five more. And why? Because the people of San Miguel have demanded their rights.

“They’ve spoken out for their right to life, for their right to water; for their right to safe homes. In San Miguel, more than 120 houses have been cracked and broken, their lives are in danger…. They’ve spoken out for the environment, for the rivers and the flora and the fauna that are being contaminated.

“This is what we’re living here in San Miguel; we’re seeing more illnesses, in the people and in the animals, including animals that have died after drinking contaminated water.

“Seeing all of this, seeing all of the manipulation and the criminalization and the conflict that has occurred at the community level, we have come to the conclusion that an extractive industry like a mine is not compatible with a Mam community.”

Anaya heard from a labor leader who said there were miners who had been injured and who knew about the contamination but weren’t free to talk; a women’s rights leader who said the company claims to be giving women opportunities but that they are being manipulated and exploited; and from a number of others.
“Next you’ll go and speak to the government officials and the mining officials, and they’ll tell you we’re just a little grupito of troublemakers,” said a man introduced as Don Ricardo. “But we are not a grupito. We are thousands. We represent our communities, and we represent many more who are afraid to speak up because of the reprisals.”

Sister Maudilia López, of FREDEMI (Front in Resistance of San Miguel), a Catholic sister and a Mam Maya leader of the resistance against the mining, presented the officials with handmade earthen pots used for carrying water.

“These are humble works, but they are made by our own hands, and we make them not to do damage but to give life – to share the sacred good that is water,” Maudilia said earnestly. “I ask myself, why are we doing damage to our Mother Earth, and to all of the mothers who make these pots from our Mother Earth? This is not a development for life, it’s a development for death.”

The next stop was with Alcalde Joel Domingo Obidio Bamaca, mayor of San Miguel Ixtahuacan. “There’s a group that says yes, and a group that says no – and I can’t take sides, because I’m the mayor of all the people,” Obidio told the dignitaries. “I’m not a scientist and I’m not an environmentalist; I can’t say one way or another. It’s complicated.”

After a few minutes, the public was asked to leave and the officials held a private meeting.

The next stop on the tour was a trip to the tiny settlement of Ajel, home of Crisanta Hernandez, where the light of day shines through huge cracks in the walls and ceilings. Like about 120 other families whose homes have opened large cracks since the beginning of mining operations, she believes it’s the constant grinding of heavy equipments, trucks and blasting in the area – once a quiet neighborhood on a mountainside – that has destroyed the houses.

“We’re afraid to be living inside this house now, but it’s all we have,” Hernandez said. “It’s a great damage they’ve done to us. We worked for years in the fincas, suffering in the rain and in the sun, for years we ate cold tortillas with salt, to save the money to buy this house. We wanted to have a dignified home to leave for our children…it’s not fair.”

The company denies any responsibility.

Crisanta Perez, however, is the first to speak, and she tells of her arrest in 2008 and again in 2009 for speaking out against the mine. She tells the officials that she was in hiding but returned home to give birth and a few days later was apprehended by officers and very nearly taken to jail but that local citizens intervened and demanded her release. Ever since, she has been afraid to leave her home.

Grahame Russel of the Canandian group Rights Action tells Crisanta’s story here, with video and background information. http://www.rightsaction.org/articles/Goldcorp_&_Mam_woman_020410.html

Dozens of journalists and supporters crowded into the tiny home to listen. When a villager began to speak about the skin rashes and prepared to undress her baby to expose the condition, Anaya asked us to leave so they could talk alone.

As we waited, neighbors prepared us a delicious ginger atol – a drink made from corn – and chicken soup.

The next stop was the Marlin Mine, where the reception was decidedly colder; the public and media waited out in the rain while Anaya’s team went inside and met with company officials.

After that, we bid our farewells and headed up to Huehuetenango, the site of Thursday’s gathering. I was left with an image of the Marlin Mine, a vast extension of brown amid the rolling green mountains and a bluish green tailings lake that stretched for what seemed like a mile.

I was reminded of the statistic that perhaps holds the greatest impact for the people of these regions: In an hour, this mine uses the same amount a Mayan family uses in 22 years.

Videos:
An excellent short documentary, “La Mina,” by Paul Plett and Esther Epp-Tiessen for the Mennonite Central Committee: http://mcc.org/stories/videos/la-mina

And a four-part investigative series by the Canadian broadcasting network CTV, “Paradise Lost”:
http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20100415/w5_paradise_lost_100415/20100417

Images from San Miguel Ixtahuacan and Ajel on the day of Anaya’s visit:

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Indigenous Guatemalans to UN: No to mining, yes to life

Tracy Barnett

Published: June 17, 2010Posted in: Featured, Guatemala, Indigenous rights, Mining, WhyTags: Goldcorp, Guatemala, Huehuetenango, Indigenous rights, indigenous territory, James Anaya, Marlin Mine, Mining, Zaculeu

Indigenous Guatemalans to UN: No to mining, yes to life

We fell into step behind a river of them making their way to Zaculeu, the ancient Mayan ruin on the outskirts of the city, and they poured into the entrance. A sun-bronzed elder, her hair done up in the beautifully woven cloth traditional in her village, lit up when she saw me and embraced me, greeting me as though she had known me for years.

“Buenos días,” she said. “Gracias – Thank you so much for being here.” I thought I saw tears in her eyes.
As we entered the complex an astounding vision met us: the pyramids, which I had seen a few hours before in their stark whiteness, were alive with people – thousands of them – traditionally dressed Maya people in all their glory.

Many of them were holding placards. “No to mining; yes to life” read some. “San Juan Atitan says no to the multinational corporations,” read another.

“There are some who believe the Mayans are gone, and all that remains are these ruins,” a man dressed in white with a cowboy hat was speaking from the stage. “We are here to tell them: we are alive, and we are hear to bring these monuments back to life.”

The crowd roared its assent.

Anaya was here along with other members of the U.S. High Commission on Human Rights, part of a weeklong information-gathering tour in the wake of allegations that the Guatemalan government has illegally granted hundreds of mining concessions on indigenous lands to multinational corporations without their consent. What he was witnessing was part of a mass uprising of indigenous communities that are becoming increasingly organized and increasingly vocal in a desperate bid to protect their territories from growing pressure from the extractive industries.

On Monday he met with government officials in the capital; on Tuesday he was greeted by an estimated 12,000 mostly indigenous people in the highland village of San Juan Sacatepequez who had come from all over the country to denounce the violation of their lands by foreign-owned mining companies, hydroelectric companies and a giant cement operation.

Wednesday the delegation made its way up into the remote mountain village of San Miguel Ixtahuacan, where the transnational giant Goldcorp operates a gold mine that has stripped away a vast stretch of these mountains.

And today, the fourth day of his fact-finding mission, he began at the crack of dawn here amid the pyramids outside Huehuetenango, observing in an ancient Mayan ceremony. Later he heard from community leaders of a mass movement that has organized an estimated half-million indigenous people in a series of consultas, or referendums, around the country in a near-unanimous rejection of mining on their lands – referendums authorized under an international law signed by the Guatemalan government, but which it now declares to be nonbinding.

“This is a historic day for our people,” said Aniseto Lopez of FREDEMI (Front in Defense of San Miguel de Ixtahuacan). “We have been crying out for many years, but today our voice will be heard. This meeting won’t solve everything, but it’s another step ahead. And cost us what it will, we will achieve our goal – because reality is on our side.”

Tomorrow Anaya will deliver a report to the Guatemalan government. Meanwhile, here are some images from two incredible days with the indigenous resistance and their entreaty to James Anaya.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.