Witness for Peace Delegation
“Communities under the Rubble of Cerrejón”
by Avi Chomsky
Our time in the Guajira was divided between
the city of Riohacha, on the coast, and the area surrounding the Cerrejón
mine, in the interior. Way back in 2002 Remedios Fajardo told us about
the indigenous and Afro-Colombian communities in the path of destruction by
the mine. Tabaco had already been razed in 2001; now Tamaquito, Roche,
Chancleta, and Patilla were being slowly ground down into destruction.
We visited and met with people from all of these communities, and also had
an amazing meeting with Cerrejón officials.
Basically there are four parts of the trip
I'll describe: visits to and meetings with residents of Tamaquito, Roche,
Chancleta, and Patilla; overnight with the displaced community of Tabaco in
resistance; tour and meeting at Cerrejón; and Mining the Connections conference.
COMMUNITY VISITS: We could not visit
Tamaquito, because the land around the small settlement has been taken over
by the mine and the road practically destroyed. "It's like we're
on an island" residents told us. They came down to Chancleta to
join us for a large community meeting there. There isn't a single vehicle
in Tamaquito--when someone becomes sick, they have to carry them down to the
town in a hammock. They have to carry their water in themselves, walking, from
Chancleta. There are 30 families, about 80 people, remaining in Tamaquito.
Chancleta is perched just on the edge of the
mine--we could see the gaping pit just beyond the houses there. All
of these communities seem to be clinging, almost miraculously, to the hot,
dry, dusty land that's basically been rendered uninhabitable by the mine.
There is no water anywhere, and the Ranchería River that formerly served as
a source has been so contaminated that it can't be used at all. Land
that was formerly used for farming, hunting, and gathering has been taken
over by the mine, and/or rendered barren by the contamination and lack of
water. People described almost constant intimidation and harassment
by mine security forces. Soldiers from the national army circled our
meeting and made themselves at home in the houses around us.
"We have been ancestrally mistreated,
humiliated in all ways, intellectually, morally, physically, by the company
and by the local and national governments" a community leader from Roche
told us. The communities are asking for 1) collective negotiations with
the company; 2) relocation; and 3) reparations. The company has tried
to divide the communities by insisting on only individual negotiations--offering
to buy houses and land from individual owners. What the company has
refused to recognize is that the communities in the mining area, whether Afro-Colombian
or indigenous, are coherent, collective entities that have developed
a communal life over the course of many centuries. The indigenous communities
date their collective existence to before 1492; the Afro-Colombian communities'
oral histories explain that they were founded in the 18th century by slaves
who rebelled against the traders who had enslaved them and freed themselves
before reaching land. They landed on the Guajira as free people and
founded the communities that are now being destroyed.
The dust in these communities bordering the
mine is unimaginable. It permeates your eyes, your skin, your lungs.
The children, especially, seem to be constantly coughing.
OVERNIGHT WITH THE DISPLACED COMMUNITY OF
TABACO IN RESISTANCE: About 100 families from the former village of
Tabaco are still organized and fighting the company for collective relocation.
Most of them live in the town of Albania--which is also severely contaminated
by the mining operation--with relatives or in inadequate quarters. Jose
Julio Perez, who many of you met during his tour of the U.S. last spring,
is their elected representative.
"Tabaco in Resistance" invited us
to spend the night at a finca (farm) called El Reposo, in La Cruz, that they've
identified as the site they would like to be relocated to. The finca
belonged to a wealthy landowner, who used it as a sort of resort/party area,
so there are some structures built there, fruit trees, and plenty of land
for farming and cattle. It's outside of the direct area affected by
the mine, and the contrast is startling. A rushing, clean fresh-water
stream runs through it providing a constant source of water. It is lush
and beautiful. Tabaco residents brought in hammocks for all of us, which
they hung in the two thatch structures at night. They brought wood,
drinking water, cooking pots, and food to make us dinner and breakfast.
The land now belongs to the owner's 45 children.
(Apparently this is not so unusual in the Guajira.) The Tabaco community
is hoping they can get them to agree to sell them the land, and they believe
that the mining company, and the local government, should help them to buy
it and reestablish their community there: "re-weave the social
fabric" as several people put it.
MEETING WITH MINE OFFICIALS: This was
the first time that the mining company had been confronted with a human rights
delegation. We really got the royal treatment. They gathered 14
top mine officials including the head of Public Relations, the Medical Director,
the head of Communications for Human Rights, Environment and Sustainable Development,
the company lawyer, several company sociologists, social workers, and anthropologists,
and many others. They talked to us at length about their wonderful practices
in the areas of environment, human rights, and community relations, and also
plied us with refreshments and lunch.
They most especially did NOT want to talk
about local communities affected by the mine. When questioned, they
brought out the company anthropologist, who gave us a long speech about how
they have not been able to prove that these communities are truly Afro-Colombian
and indigenous. Afro-Colombian communities, company anthropologist Juan
Carlos Forero told us, have a special relationship to the land and to nature,
and we (that is, the mine) don't think that these communities have truly proven
that they have that special relationship.
One thing that came through very clearly in
this 6-hour meeting was that the mining companies are very, very concerned
about their reputations and about bad publicity. This reconfirmed for
us that we CAN help to influence their behavior towards the communities by
putting public pressure on them.
MINING THE CONNECTIONS CONFERENCE: The
conference opened Tuesday night August 8 with the launching of Armando Pérez
Araújo's book, Codicia a Cielo Abierto, or "Open-Pit Greed," a testimonial
novel about the impact of mining in the Guajira. It continued all day
August 9. We organized two busses to bring in about 80 people from the
communities. There was a strong international presence at the conference
including of course our delegation, and Garry Leech from the University of
Cape Breton in Nova Scotia, and Steve Striffler from the University of Arkansas,
who were both also involved in organizing Jose Julio's tour. From Bogotá,
Francisco Ramírez from Sintraminercol and Alirio Uribe from the José Alvear
Restrepo lawyers collective both spoke; as did union leaders from the Cerrejón
mine and the Drummond mine; solidarity activists from the U.S. and Canada,
and members and leaders from affected communities. It was an a wonderful
opportunity for many of the different people connected to this issue to meet
face to face, talk about issues and strategies, and make plans. The
"Boston Group Working Plan" that I sent out a couple of days ago
came out of these conversations; I'm confident that others inside and outside
of Colombia also left the conference buzzing with ideas and hope.
The communities' demands are clear: collective negotiation, collective relocation, and reparations. They are counting on us to bring the international pressure necessary to make these things happen.
At our first meeting in Riohacha, Armando Pérez Araújo, lawyer for Tabaco and other communities affected by the mine, gave us an overview of the situation. Witness for Peace International Team members Amanda (left) and Kath (right) translate.
José Julio Pérez in front of the school in Roche. The painted posts show the area claimed by the mine. Note how they’ve closed off the path from the school. According to oral histories, Roche is one of the original four communities founded in the 1780s when enslaved Africans overcame the crew of the ship that was carrying them and diverted it to the Guajira, landing in the Americas as free men and women.
Community members from Roche and Tamaquito came to Chancleta to meet with us and tell us about how the mine has affected their communities.
Chancleta community meeting. Just beyond the houses in the background we could see the gaping hole of the mine.
José Julio in front of some houses on the
road out of Chancleta.
Members of José Julio’s family, including four of his young daughters, at La Cruz. After our meetings with the community, they strung up hammocks for us in this shelter and we spent the night there. There were no mosquitoes!
The improvised kitchen at La Cruz, where the women prepared food and endless
amounts of coffee for us.
Dance performance by children of Tabaco, Albania and other communities, at La Cruz.
A bird’s-eye view of the mine. Several
people commented that it reminded them of the Grand Canyon.
Garry Leech and José Julio at their panel
at the Mining the Connections Conference in Riohacha, on August 9. The conference commemorated the August 9, 2001 razing of the
village of Tabaco, and also happened to fall on International Indigenous Rights
Day.
