What I saw in La Oroya made my head hurt even more: It is one of the most polluted cities in the world, primarily due to a metal smelting facility operating there since 1922.
I met with a range of people from the community who described the public health crisis. Lead pollution particularly was affecting virtually all the children living near the plant, most of whom had very high levels of it in their blood. My altitude headache was nothing compared to that.
Since then the owner of the plant, a company called Doe Run Peru (part of an American company called Renco Group), shut down the plant and has been trying to renegotiate the environmental clean-up commitments it made when it bought the plant in 1997. We are hearing that the government of Peru is allowing another company to operate the parts of the facility that they say can comply with environmental regulations. The groups working to defend the rights of people in La Oroya to live in a safe environment are hoping that whoever runs this plant will comply with all the environmental standards if and when it becomes fully operational again.
My colleagues and I have been working to find ways for the people of La Oroya to get their message out to people in power, so they can defend their right to live in a clean environment. On July 19th, they had a major success here in the US: a hearing before the House Subcommittee on Africa, Global Health, and Human Rights.
Representative Chris Smith (R-NJ) organized the hearing. “Environmental damage in Peru is our concern, not just because we care about suffering people outside our borders – we absolutely do,” he said in his opening remarks. “But it is also our responsibility to make sure that our own companies aren’t at fault.”
Two people from La Oroya gave their testimony: Monsignor Pedro Barreto, the Archbishop of Huancayo, cited the environmental problems and raised the larger question about the purpose of economic development: “The Church is not opposed to mining or development, but it does ask the question: Development for whom? Mining for the benefit of whom? At what cost?”
Rosa Amaro also testified. She works with the Movement for Health in La Oroya (known as MOSAO), and has been threatened on numerous occasions for speaking out in favor of a cleaner environment. “Supporters of Doe Run have thrown stones at me, threatened to burn down my house, and threatened my life…When they see us in the street they shout ‘Death to MOSAO.’ We have no protection from these threats.” Her security concerns did not prevent her from traveling to Washington to testify.
To detail the toxic life people in La Oroya are leading, Dr. Fernando Serrano from the University of St. Louis delivered findings from studies that show people are living with pollution levels of the most toxic metals three to six times higher than the US average.
Keith Slack from Oxfam’s office in Washington, who has written extensively on mining-related conflicts in Peru, made recommendations for Peru’s government to improve respect for basic human rights and strengthen environmental standards. He urged the US government to support Peru’s defense of an $800 million lawsuit brought against it by Renco Group. “[The]US government should encourage all American companies operating in Peru and elsewhere in the region to ensure that they are following the highest possible human rights and environmental standards,” he concluded. “Their behavior is a reflection on the US as a whole.”
]]>Oxfam and our partners are now assisting more than 330,000 people in Darfur who have been affected by the conflict that began in 2003.
Armed clashes in Sudan continue to drive people from their homes. In January, more than 100,000 people fled the gold-mining area of Jebel Amir in North Darfur. Oxfam and a local partner have been assisting thousands of families with clean water, sanitation facilities, and relief materials like plastic sheeting and blankets.
Oxfam America is working with local Sudanese partners and community members to provide clean water, sanitation, and hygiene programs to more than 260,000 people in camps and villages in Darfur. Our water engineers are helping maintain the wells, pumps, tanks, pipes, and taps that deliver treated water to the settlements, and our sanitation and public health staff are ensuring that camp residents have latrines, bathing areas, soap, water cans, and access to the information they need to stay healthy under challenging camp conditions.
Many people affected by the conflict no longer have the means to make a dignified living. Farmers who have been displaced from their land, herders who have lost their animals, and widows who are trying to raise children alone have a range of needs as they try to restore their incomes. Oxfam partners have offered small business grants and loans, as well as vocational training and assets like donkey carts to many of the most vulnerable residents of the camps. In rural areas affected by the conflict, we are providing seeds, plows, and horse carts for farmers, as well as small business loans.
High-efficiency stoves can address an array of problems in Darfur. In a joint program with two partners, Oxfam America has supported local camp residents to assemble and distribute more than 15,000 stoves that are more than twice as efficient as traditional three-stone fireplaces. For the women who purchase their firewood in the market, the stoves reduce the cost of fuel and ease the heavy economic pressure on their families. But for those who must trek into the countryside to gather firewood, facing the risk of assault from armed bandits and militias, fuel-efficient stoves are even more critical. Read more about how the stoves have been making a difference.
Oxfam America's fuel-efficient stove program is helping protect Darfur’s fragile environment by reducing the need for firewood and charcoal.
Other environmental initiatives include planting and protecting tens of thousands of tree seedlings around school and camps for displaced people.
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Sofia Vergara, community organizer for Oxfam’s Right to Know, Right to Decide campaign, has worked with the people of La Oroya since 2005. Below, Vergara explains the new developments and what lies ahead.
What happened last week, and why is it important?
The Doe Run Peru smelter in La Oroya has not operated since 2009, when the company began a bankruptcy process, saying that it lacked the funds to run the smelter. Doe Run Peru recently proposed a restructuring plan that would allow it to begin operations again, but without first taking the steps to clean up the environment that are required by law in Peru.
Last week, Doe Run Peru’s creditors, including the Peruvian government, voted to reject the company’s plan. By doing so, the government showed that it is willing to stand up to the company in defense of the people of La Oroya. This is a very positive step.
How will this affect families in La Oroya?
Without emissions from the smelter, people are breathing cleaner air. You can tell just by looking at pictures: there are blue skies now, and plants growing that weren’t there before. The children are not facing day-to-day exposure to contamination. A recent government study found that children’s blood lead levels have decreased compared to 2005 [when a study found that 97 percent of the children in the town under age 6 had elevated blood lead levels]. Most people in La Oroya want the smelter to reopen, but with adequate environmental controls installed first.
What happens next?
There are a lot of unanswered questions. The company has entered into what’s called “liquidation in progress,” which means that the smelter will not operate, but 3,500 workers can keep their jobs. Another entity will manage the liquidation for the next six months, but we don’t know who. The government and the creditors’ board have until May 25 to decide. That decision will play a big part in determining La Oroya's future.
For now, we need to make sure of two things. First, that the government’s process is clear and transparent. For example, Doe Run has a plan to build a sulfuric acid plant in La Oroya—a critical step for reducing toxic emissions. Residents want to know if that will still happen, and if Doe Run Peru will meet environmental requirements before reopening. Second, the government’s decision will have to take the environmental and health issues, as well as the workers’ rights, into account.
What about this ongoing conflict between workers and activists in La Oroya? With violent protests around mining now making news in other parts of Peru, how can we prevent violence from happening there?
In a recent statement issued by a coalition of Oxfam’s partners in La Oroya, they “call for all actors to prioritize dialogue and avoid any kind of confrontation, or acts of violence.” The government plays a key role in communicating with the population, making sure people know what will happen and how they will be protected. The company also has a responsibility to negotiate with the government in good faith, and to not put pressure on workers to create violence in the city.
In general, I think people in La Oroya have access to more information than they did in the past, which will help them understand this complex situation. Many have been put in a difficult position because they have to defend the source of their livelihood, and on the other hand they face the issue of contamination of themselves and their families.
What are Oxfam and its partners doing to support citizens’ efforts?
Local grassroots leaders like Rosa Amaro and Esther Hinostrosa have played a key role in defending the environment and human rights in La Oroya, as have representatives of the church. All of these groups have kept up their courage even in the face of pressure, violence, and threats.
Through its partners and allies in the area, Oxfam helps strengthen these local groups and makes sure they have access to information they need. We’ve also supported them as they raise awareness about the case in the US and Peru. That’s something Amaro told me herself: even though her life has been threatened, it’s important to communicate about this case as much as we can. That’s how we will bring about real change.
How have people in the US contributed?
A lot of people are taking action—people of faith, students, others. They feel a strong sense of solidarity with the families of La Oroya, and they are also concerned because Doe Run Peru is a US-owned company. Peruvian and Latin American communities in the US have also been very active on this case.
So far, more than 35,000 supporters have signed an online petition asking US Congress to support the people of Peru in the trade lawsuit [Doe Run Peru is suing the Peruvian government for allegedly violating the terms of the US-Peru Free Trade Agreement]. Thanks to efforts like this, 18 members of US Congress recently sent a letter asking the US Treasury and State Departments not to support the company.
What can people do to help now?
Follow our partners' coalition, La Oroya por un Cambio, on Twitter and like La Oroya por un Cambio on Facebook to get updates. Share the information with others. And tell Congress to stand with the people of Peru on the trade case, which is still going on.
After the Peruvian government cited Doe Run Peru for environmental violations, the company closed the smelter in 2009, citing the high cost of complying with the government’s requirements for cleanup. In April 2011, Doe Run Peru’s parent company Renco Group filed a lawsuit against Peru, claiming its actions violated the US-Peru Free Trade Agreement.
With the case now due to go to international arbitration, the multi-billion-dollar Renco Group is lobbying the US government for support. At the same time, Oxfam and partners are calling on Congress to make sure that Doe Run doesn’t abandon its commitments to the community where it did business for more than a decade.
“Renco Group has money, power, and influence on Capitol Hill,” said Keith Slack, manager of Oxfam America’s Right to Know, Right to Decide campaign. “The people of La Oroya don’t. But they have an equal right to make their voices heard.”
Oxfam America’s oil, gas, and mining program has been working with partner organizations in La Oroya since 2000. Their efforts around the current case are twofold:
Slack compared La Oroya to Herculaneum, Missouri, where the US-based branch of Doe Run operates a lead smelter. After millions of dollars in environmental fines and multiple lawsuits that helped set stricter US standards for lead pollution, Doe Run has said it will close the Herculaneum smelter in 2013 and explore opening a new earth-friendly facility.
“This is a company with a clear double standard, since the health situation in Peru is even worse than it was Missouri,” said Slack. “If [La Oroya] was in our own backyard, we wouldn’t allow this to happen.”
Rosa Amaro’s family has lived in for generations in La Oroya Antigua—the neighborhood directly across the river from the smelter and one of the worst affected by pollution. In 2002, Amaro and her children participated in a study conducted by Peru’s Ministry of Health. The tests showed that her older son, then age 8, had 58 micrograms of lead per deciliter of blood. (The US Center for Disease Control recommends medical action at anything above 10 micrograms per deciliter.) Now 17, he suffers from gastritis and severe pain requiring repeated trips to the hospital.
Amaro’s family also participated in a 2005 St. Louis University study, which not only detected elevated lead levels in children, but also found that residents had above-normal levels of cadmium, arsenic, and antimony. These toxic elements are associated with cancer, kidney failure, and other medical problems.
After their children tested positive for lead in 2002, Amaro and other concerned parents formed a grassroots group called the Movement for the Health of La Oroya (MOSAO). “[We want] to spread information about what’s going on,” said Amaro. “Children in Peru and in the US have the same right to live in a healthy environment, and their parents have a right to dignified work.”
The issue of work has divided La Oroya, where some say closing the smelter permanently would take away most of the town’s jobs. For participating in the health studies and publicly speaking out against the company, Amaro has faced harassment and repeated threats of violence. Even so, she recently visited the US for an Oxfam speaking tour with other women from mining-affected areas.
Whether or not the smelter reopens, said Amaro, Doe Run Peru must still meet its environmental and social obligations to the community. “The ground is totally polluted by heavy metals,” she said. “It’s not only the government’s responsibility to clean up the mess, but also that of the company, which has been operating here for so many years.”
Meanwhile, in a neighborhood where residents once had trouble breathing outdoors, the last two years have brought a measure of relief.
“You don’t feel the chemical fumes in the air, and you can even see some green coming out of the ground,” said Amaro. “We would love it if it would remain the way it is right now.”
Take action: Tell Congress to stand with the people of La Oroya and hold the company accountable.
]]>Concerns about human rights and the environment are constantly swirling around the community and mine.
The Marlin Mine now produces more than 300,000 ounces of gold a year.
Critics of the mine in Guatemala and international experts are calling on the government and Goldcorp to accept the precautionary measures issued by the IACHR and suspend operations at the mine. It's a risky stance for local people to take: Amnesty International has noted cases of beatings and death threats against members of the San Miguel Defense Front(known by its Spanish initials, FREDEMI). Community members also report shootings and attempted shootings against mine critics. Aniceto López, a coordinator who works for FREDEMI was beaten in February 2011, along with Miguel Ángel Bámaca, a farmer and public health promoter.
The insecurity is "the worst thing affecting our community now," says Bámaca, who was also shot at late at night in July 2010, just outside his home. Like many other FREDEMI members, he is not comfortable publicly identifying his attackers. He says those who wish him ill "know what we do, where we live, when people meet...they know everything," Bámaca says."Who will help us?" The government, the courts, the police, they are not helping."
Adding to concerns about the environment and security, the ethnic Maya Mam people living in the area consider industrial mining as a form of disrespect for their religion and culture, which worships nature and Mother Earth. "Our spirituality, our vision is that there is harmony between nature, people, and God, we are together and there is balance in our lives," says Maudilia López, an indigenous woman who works for the Catholic church in San Miguel Ixtahuacán. "This mining activity puts our cultural values in danger."
After the IACHR issued its precautionary measures urging the government to suspend operations at the Marlin Mine, the government initially agreed to do so, then later claimed it did not have enough evidence of environmental damage and human rights violations. Oxfam America has been collecting signatures on an electronic petition urging the government to suspend mining at the Marlin Mine and investigate the human rights violations and environmental problems linked to the mine.
]]>“I’m using this mandate,” Addo announces, like a seasoned politician, and starts ticking off her issues. Most of them are related to problems with water, funding for education, jobs for young people, and compensation for the damage and loss of land from a large gold mine established near Akatekyeso.
It’s a village of dirt paths, and cracked, crumbling, concrete structures. There is one well near the main road with a large group of women and children pumping water, filling buckets, and carrying them off.
“We had a hill over there,” Addo motions behind her home. “That was our water shed, but they blasted it and destroyed it. We had streams flowing out of it and there was no water scarcity. But it was all destroyed and now there is no water.” The mining company, AngloGold Ashanti, drilled two wells for the community, only one of which is currently functioning and now serves hundreds of people in the area.
To some, Addo may seem an unlikely leader: she’s a woman with little formal education. But she has the training and knowledge she needs to be effective, thanks to her work with the local human rights and environmental organization Wacam.
“Formerly, nobody consulted us,” Addo says of the mining company. “After we got training from Wacam, we understood our rights. Now they know if they want to work here they need to come and ask for our consent. Now they recognize we know our rights, and that is why they are respecting us.”
Addo is part of a growing group of village advocates in rural Ghana trained by Wacam that is bringing their concerns to companies and government bodies, and pushing for changes. Wacam has been building this network for 16 years, and it is now gathering momentum.
Addo is aware of her responsibilities to effect change, and knows she has to do it honestly. “I am always very concerned about the truth,” Addo says, walking down a path near her home. “Whatever I say, I investigate it, and double check to make sure I come out with the truth.”
Addo believes blasting rocks with explosives in nearby mine pits caused the cracks visible on so many of the buildings in Akatakyeso. She says the blasting near her home was quite violent: She was actually in her kitchen (a wood-frame shelter next to her home where she did all the cooking on an open fire) when it nearly collapsed on top of her and her family after one particularly large explosion. They just made it out from under its metal roof before the entire structure came down.
Even the best trained community representatives negotiating compensation from a mining company for blasting damage require hard, indisputable information and facts. Several hours to the north of Akatakyeso is a community called Dormaah Bypass, which worked with Wacam to close the information gap and get a commitment from another mining company, Newmont, which runs the Ahafo mine, to repair the community’s buildings.
Dormaah Bypass is just on the other side of the bypass road built for the excavation of Ahafo, less than a mile from the pit. Emmanuel Kuduah, 62, lives just off the bypass road, where he farms citrus fruit and leads a small evangelical church. “The main problem here is blasting,” he says, sitting in the shade of a tree outside his house. “The pit is so close, it is cracking our buildings, and in one case a building collapsed on someone and he died.”
A brief walk around Kuduah’s house, where he lives with his wife and eight children, showed more than a dozen cracked areas, many of which had been repaired. But some of the repairs were opening up again, and Kuduah says the continued blasting makes it look like some areas were never repaired.
Wacam’s trainers helped people from this community to hold meetings with Newmont to discuss the building damage but the company was reluctant to accept responsibility in all cases. The company did however offer to pay for an engineer to survey the buildings and make a recommendation.
Kuduah says Wacam warned villagers that an engineer hired and paid by Newmont might not be independent enough to make a fair analysis. Wacam recommended that the community members press Newmont to pay for the study, but to allow community members to pick the expert engineer. “Wacam helped us find an engineer. We held a meeting at the assembly hall to present the expert’s report, and that was when the company accepted responsibility for the cracks in the buildings and said they would repair them.”
Kuduah says this engineering study is just one of the ways Wacam has been able to help his community negotiate with Newmont. “They have consistently provided us with knowledge and ways to organize and lead our struggle, so we have the strategies and leadership we need. Whenever we have asked for ideas and knowledge, Wacam has helped us.”
]]>The main training is in Ghana’s Minerals and Mining Act, which accords citizen’s rights to fair, adequate, and prompt compensation for land lost to mines. Activists also learn how to monitor the negative environmental effects of mining, particularly pollution to water bodies by cyanide (used to separate gold from rocks), which is shockingly frequent in Ghana. “Wacam has carried out investigations in water bodies in mining communities,” says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng, while riding in a van from Ghana’s second city Kumasi to the capital Accra, just one of the scores of trips she makes every year to train local activists. “Out of the 400 water bodies we tested, 250 were polluted. We presented the report to the Environmental Protection Agency and they are doing an investigation. It also helped inform a recent assessment in which the EPA rated the mining companies, and all the mining companies in Ghana were scored poor or unsatisfactory.
“This has all emerged from the communities, where activists identify pollution sources, and we contract researchers to analyze the water bodies and come out with findings we present to the government.”
Informed communities now know what to do if they find dead fish in rivers and streams: collect and preserve samples to verify the presence of cyanide contamination, contact the Environmental Protection Agency, and negotiate compensation from the company responsible for the spill. Local activists are also trained how to communicate with the media, in cases where government and company responses to such accidents are slow or non-existent.
Oxfam also supports the legal aid organization the Center for Public Interest Law, (CEPIL), which assists communities pressing their grievances through the courts. CEPIL’s work has helped several communities get compensation for cyanide spills, including a $250,000 development fund from mining company Goldfields Ghana, agreed in an out-of-court settlement for the community of Abekoase in 2007. CEPIL is also helping plaintiffs in Dumasi press for compensation from Bogoso goldmines for a cyanide spill. This case has been in and out of court since 2004, and further delaying tactics by the defendant are trying the patience of community members.
It was in Dumasi where one of Wacam’s most energetic local activists emerged: Joanna Manu. Manu was one of the local farmers who learned about the cyanide spill in the nearby Aprepre Rriver in 2004, and went there immediately to collect dead fish and warn people not to touch or drink the water. She and her fellow activist Nii Anyetei pressed the case for compensation with the EPA and mining company.
Manu had also previously suffered the indignation of being arrested for farming her own lands, but successfully stood up in court and invoked the Minerals and Mining Act, pointing out to the judge that as she had received no compensation, the land did not belong to Bogoso . “I am farming that land still,” she told this writer in 2007.
In the meantime, Manu has pursued her studies, finishing high school in her mid-30s. She is now pursuing her ambition to become a member of Ghana’s parliament. She recently achieved a significant milestone on that road: she was elected to the District Assembly of the Western Region.
There’s a saying in the local Twi language in western Ghana, Adwem anu balofo tirmuI: knowledge is not only in the head of one person. “Wacam has taught me about the basic rights of people, their rights to own property, to information, to live as a human being. And that a leader has to listen to people, be humble before them, understand their issues, and that I have to have the courage, commitment, and confidence to represent them,” Manu says during a brief networking visit with other activists in the small city of Prestea, a gritty mining town near Dumasi.
For a community leader, especially a woman, to speak truth to power in Ghana, like many parts of Africa, is a challenge. Criticizing or challenging elders, or those in power, is risky – not only is it considered rude by many, it can lead to isolation. However in Ghana, there is a polite way to do this: one must seek permission to raise something publicly that might not be pleasant. This permission, called sebi, is a crucial way of working. “Wacam taught me how to do that,” Manu says.
In between villagers in her voting districts, Manu says she is setting her priorities for her work in the District Assembly. Chief among them is to ensure communities understand their rights in the face of industrial mining. “I know from my experience that when your land is taken from you, you will be jobless,” Manu says. “You will not get money to feed your family. I want the assembly to know about this so they will help people negotiate well, so they can get something for themselves.”
]]>Anwiam means “in the sand” in the local Twi language. Residents enter the village by passing over a set of railroad tracks separating it from a housing development built for the AngloGold Ashanti mining company staff, behind chain link and barbed wire fences. Anwiam has no electricity and little clean water. “If you compare the company residences with Anwiam, it is like apartheid,” says Hannah Owuso-Koranteng, who works at the human rights and environmental organization Wacam. “The rail line divides them.”
AngloGold Ashanti was blasting in nearby mine pit, and draining water, without any advance warning to the community. Amo says they used to blow a whistle just before blasting, signaling a sudden evacuation. Then, two years ago she and others from Anwiam started attending training sessions with Wacam. These problems, Amo says, were “a violation of our rights to live in a clean environment.” She says they learned that the company should consult them about a blasting schedule, and warn them about water outflows—and pay fair compensation for damages.
The training with Wacam was a real eye opener for Amo, who at first appears to be a very shy woman, concerned that she does not speak English well. But when she starts talking about the injustices she sees in her community, her face changes and she speaks rapidly and without much hesitation. “Now I can sit at the negotiation table and look the company representatives in the eye and tell them we think they should redress some of these issues, and that we should be compensated,” Amo says. “What they are doing is violating our rights, so they have to look at other ways of engaging us, so we can solve these things amicably.”
Stories of injustices like these, and local efforts to redress them, are becoming better known in Ghana thanks to a proliferation of grassroots activists trained by Wacam. Stories in the media abound: cyanide spills, homes damaged and destroyed by blasting, inadequate compensation, loss of farmlands and jobs and income, and involuntary relocation. “People are now questioning whether mining is a good development option for the country,” says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng. “And if we have to engage in mining, what are the methods we have to use?” She says questioning the role of mining in the economy used to be akin to treason, or a threat to national security. This started to change as Ghanaians have become more and more aware of the severe costs imposed by mining on local communities.
This has caused many to consider what mining is bringing to the country: Daniel Owusu-Koranteng points out that with such high prices for commodities like gold these days, mining is now bringing in about 40 percent of Ghana’s foreign exchange, more than exporting cocoa. However mining only contributes about six percent of Ghana’s GDP. “What accounts for this is high capital flight in the sector,” he says. The Minerals and Mining Act requires companies to pay between three and five percent of mineral revenue values, most pay three percent, a rate negotiated by some larger companies. Advocacy campaigns by Wacam and others are pushing this up to at least five percent.
The local activists trained by WACAM have played an important role in the national level debate about mining in Ghana. Each of them has had to take on new responsibilities and learn things about themselves in the process, as they work to improve their community and their country.
Philomena Addo, the subsistence farmer from Akatakyieso and recently elected village representative, is struggling to survive as she is taking on new leadership responsibilities. “We lost almost all our land to the mine. Now we have to go to other communities with land, and we are now share croppers,” she says outside her home. “There is just no land to cultivate here, the areas were all either destroyed or taken up by AngloGold for grazing cattle.”
Nevertheless, Addo says she has truth on her side, and is using her own personal transformation to seek a political solution to the problems in her community. “I used to be very timid,” she says “I would not discuss anything in public. Now I am more confident and I can speak at any level in public, at the community or national level.” She plans to push her agenda and serve her constituents: “It’s a privilege to win this confidence,” she says of her recent landslide victory at the polls.
]]>Over time, that will mean one third of the dangerous fuel-gathering trips to the countryside, one third the loss of trees, one third the smoke inhaled by Dawelbiat and her young ones, one third the air emissions. And now that she is buying her fuel in the marketplace, she’s spending a third of what she used to and has more money to feed and clothe and educate her children.
Her stove—known as the Berkeley-Darfur Stove—is the brainchild of the Darfur Stoves Project (DSP), a US-based Oxfam partner organization that draws on the work of engineers at the Lawrence-Berkeley National Laboratory in California. DSP worked with women in Darfur to develop a stove suited to their needs that would use less than half the fuel of a traditional three-stone fireplace and significantly less than other stove models that are available locally. The result is a portable 12-sided metal stove - around 12” in every dimension - that is as advanced in its design as it is simple in its construction. And whose frugal output is a match for the scarce resources of the Darfur camps.
On a day in December, while her daughter and a friend play on a mat behind her and a neighbor holds her ten-month-old baby, Dawelbiat sits down on a low stool next to her stove and begins to cook her family’s mid-morning meal. The kitchen is a low mud-brick building, shadowy but brightly lit where the sun slips in through the doorway.
She places a pot of water on the stove, adds a few pieces of wood to the firebox, and sets the fire going with a match. When the water boils, she sprinkles ground millet into the pot and stirs it with a long, carved wooden stick until she’s created a thick porridge—known as asida—which she sets aside in a bowl. The next course is mullah, a soup made of onions fried in oil with dried meat, crushed tomato, okra, and spices. And finally, tea. In the space of an hour, Dawelbiat and her fistful of kindling have produced a meal for six.
At the compound of Oxfam partner SAG (Sustainable Action Group) in nearby El Fasher, the usual sounds of a Darfur town—the roar of vehicles, the clatter of grain mills, and the bleats and brays of animals—is replaced with the banging of metal on metal. Here in a building sided and thatched with sorghum stalks, eight men from the Al Salaam camp work at tables assembling Berkeley-Darfur stoves. They smile at visitors and get back to work, bending and hammering metal into its designated size and shape. To the list of benefits of the stoves can be added one more: employing survivors of the conflict, who—uprooted from their homes and farms—struggle to find any work at all.
So far, SAG and the workers from the camps have produced and distributed around 9,000 stoves. With enough funds, they’ll create 15,000 stoves in 2011. Some will go to the camps, others to rural areas hard up against the deadly combination of deforestation and armed conflict.
Dawelbiat is shy with strangers, but her praise for the stove is effusive all the same. “The stove is good because it’s efficient and saves fuel and cooks faster. It’s better at keeping the kitchen clean, and there is less smoke. You can easily cook with it and easily move it around. Even a small portion of fuel can make your food.”
“More people should have these stoves,” she concludes.
It is a point that no one argues.
]]>Lawyers for the National Roundtable on Metalic Mining in El Salvador reacted to the initial hearing, saying that the proceedings ignored the essential role of local communities in determining whether mining projects can or should go forward, and the environmental risks associated with such projects.
Pacific Rim applied for the operating license in 2005 to open a mining project in the department of Cabañas, in the north of the country. It is suing for losses incurred on investments made during exploration work. Pacific Rim filed the suit based on the Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA), specifically chapter 10 on investments and chapter 12 on dispute resolution.
The economic and investment focus of the dispute was heavily criticized by Luis López, a lawyer for the National Roundtable on Metalic Mining in El Salvador. "Environmental issues and the rights of the local communities are not being discussed," he says. "This operating license is being treated as just another permit, without taking into account the fact that this country is very small and densely populated, and those issues [the environment and people’s rights] will only be addressed as secondary issues."
That is why the Roundtable, with the support of Oxfam America and the Center for International Environmental Law (CIEL) will be sending an 'amicus curiae'-- a friend of the court brief-- to the ICSID. This is a way for organizations and people directly affected to get involved in a case of this kind, between a transnational company and a government. "With the 'amicus curiae' we're going to introduce new elements that will have to be taken into account, such as the environmental issue" says López. "We want all aspects of the dispute to be discussed."
A second hearing is scheduled for August, when both parties will produce further evidence to support their positions. The dispute is expected to be settled in August or September of this year.
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With the crack of a sledgehammer on concrete, Oxfam's water and sanitation program in Delmas, Haiti, got underway.
The earth was still shuddering with aftershocks when survivors began to dig, carving out latrine trenches 10 feet long, 10 feet deep, and three feet wide through every kind of soil and pavement. Others did their part by quickly shaping platforms out of rocks and earth to support their new source of drinking water: Oxfam water bladders.
It was a race against time, and against deadly water-related bacteria like typhoid, hepatitis, and cholera that can thrive in crowded, unsanitary conditions. And it is a race that—so far, at least—we are winning. After the quake, hundreds of thousands of people had no access to toilets, and the water available wasn't fit to drink; yet, thanks to an all-out effort on the part of the displaced communities and aid agencies like Oxfam, there have been no outbreaks of waterborne disease.
But there is more to water and sanitation programs than health.
"We build latrines not only because they help prevent the spread of disease, but because they should help protect the dignity and safety of disaster survivors living in camps," says Oxfam engineer Kenny Rae, who led the first phase of Oxfam's water and sanitation effort in Delmas.
There is a special focus on the safety of women and girls, because in the chaotic aftermath of disasters, they are particularly vulnerable to harassment and assault. The structure of a latrine—like the firmness of its latches and whether its doors open toward or away from the general population of a camp—has implications for safety, so Rae and his team listened closely to the concerns of women residents.
Shower construction was another important issue. Haiti's weather is so warm that shower stalls can be open to the sky, but where they were installed within view of multi-story buildings, women in Delmas had understandable concerns about privacy—which Rae and his team quickly addressed by adding roofs.
"When it came to sanitation facilities," says Rae, "women in the camps had the first and last word."
Helping survivors recover after disasters is not as simple as doling out goods and services: it requires attention to the many facets of community well-being.
For example, working for pay can help disaster survivors meet a range of needs, both financial and psychological. Oxfam offered wages to residents to dig latrine trenches, cover them with slabs of molded concrete or plastic, and build structures of wood and plastic sheeting around them for shelter and safety.
"We ended up employing more than 300 people to build latrines in Delmas," says Rae. "Their communities benefited from the project, and their families benefited from the income."
But in some cases, the need for community-building trumped the need for money. When it came to constructing platforms for water bladders, everyone worked for free, says Rae. "They treated the work as a contribution to their communities."
Caring for Haiti's fragile environment was another key consideration for the water and sanitation team, which needed wood for construction.
"From the outset," says Rae, "we determined that we weren’t going to use local timber poles because of the impact on deforestation."
The team found a source of timber imported from the US. It was more expensive than local wood, and at first it was hard to find enough of it. But, says Rae, in a country as deforested and as vulnerable to landslides as Haiti, the environmental cost of harvesting timber is tremendous.
When Rae and his team assessed the local water and sanitation situation, they found settlements where thousands of displaced residents had gathered. But Delmas is also dotted with tiny camps and informal schools, and it took time to understand the full extent of the needs. Oxfam staff kept their eyes—and their office—open, continually updating their plans and assessments.
"We had an open-door policy," says Rae. "Pastors, school directors, and other community leaders would bring their requests and concerns to the Oxfam office on a near-daily basis, and we were almost always able to respond."
After helping create water and sanitation facilities in 21 sites, serving 40,000 people, Rae has returned home for a rest. Sort of.
"Of course, I was pleased to get back to the people I love," says Rae, "but I was torn because the needs on the ground in Haiti are so enormous."
When he goes back to Haiti, it will be to work on another key issue in the recovery: shelter. His focus will be not only the homeless in Port-au-Prince, but also the tens of thousands of rural families that are hosting relatives who fled the capital and are now living in very crowded conditions. Rae will be looking for efficient ways to build temporary housing and house extensions to reduce the stress on families.
"Shelter is—and will remain for a while—a huge, huge need," he says.
As for the water and sanitation program in Delmas, says Rae, "I'm confident that the Haitian engineers I helped to train will be able to carry it forward."
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The Canadian organization Rights and Democracy has developed an assessment tool that communities can use to answer these questions for themselves. The system is called the “Getting it Right” Human Rights Impact Assessment tool, and is designed so that local organizations and citizens can, with minimal training, carry out their own study of how their basic rights -- such as free speech, water, safe working conditions, shelter, and education -- are affected by the actions of governments and companies establishing mines, agricultural operations, factories, or oil and gas pipelines.
“A lot of companies will do an impact assessment on their operations, using an outside consultant, but these don’t always do much for the stakeholders in the community, or promote accountability,” says Chris Jochnick, director of Oxfam America’s private sector program. “Helping community members conduct their own human rights assessment strengthens their capacity to examine their situation, frame their issues, and engage with a company or government,” he says. “We think this will produce a more robust and balanced assessment than one done by outsiders.”
The Rights and Democracy assessment tool helps people document how their rights are supposed to be protected under national law, and the actual effects of an investment project on these rights. It helps community leaders create a team, plan out the work and specific rights to assess, carry out surveys and community consultations, validate findings, write reports, and meet with companies and governments to urge action to address the problems uncovered in the assessment.
Rights and Democracy commissioned five assessments to test the system starting in 2005. One of them looked at the effects of a metal refinery on women’s rights in La Oroya, Peru, concentrating on the rights to water, health, adequate housing, and working conditions. It was done by the Centro de Promoción y Estudios de la Mujer Andina. The organization concluded that lack of enforcement of environmental rules by the state was one of the main contributors to the poor public health situation in the city. The report also cites lack of commitment by the Doe Run Peru SRL company to improve the environmental performance of the plant.
“By looking at the health problems in La Oroya through a woman’s eyes, this assessment helped uncover a pattern of children’s and reproductive health issues that was clearly connected to lead poisoning,” says Gabrielle Watson, Oxfam America’s planning and learning specialist who helped develop the assessment tool with Rights and Development.
Oxfam America is helping two organizations carry out a Human Rights Impact Assessment. One is related to a proposed natural gas operation in Bolivia where the Centro de Estudios Aplicados a los Derechos Economicos, Sociales y Culturales (CEADESC) will carry out the study with local Guaraní indigenous communities that were denied their right to be consulted about the gas exploration activities in their territory. The other case concerns tobacco pickers in the United States, and will be carried out by the Farm Labor Organizing Committee (FLOC). FLOC will look at efforts by migrant and undocumented farmworkers to improve working conditions on tobacco farms.
Watson says the human rights assessments will help people take control of the type of development carried out in their name. “Local people are the experts about human rights impacts of private investment projects in their communities. This tool puts them in the driver’s seat in the search for safer, more equitable outcomes that are good for everyone.”
]]>Unfortunately, not all indigenous groups participating in these working groups felt that the discussions were productive. AIDESEP, a long-time Oxfam America partner and one of the largest federations representing indigenous peoples in Peru’s Amazon, has withdrawn from the dialogue process, citing lack of progress and reluctance on the part of the government to accept its share of the responsibility for the violence in Bagua.
While indigenous people and the government struggle to continue a meaningful dialogue, the Indigenous Federation of Madre de Dios (known as FENAMAD) has been objecting to the presence of Hunt Oil of Texas in the Amarakaeri Communal Reserve (RCA), part of the 3.5 million-acre Block 76 oil concession located in the Madre de Dios region in southeastern Peru. FENAMAD contends that Hunt Oil could be playing indigenous communities against each other to gain access to their lands. “The current strategy of the US company Hunt Oil is to negotiate directly with the members of each native community and seek to divide them and provoke open confrontation among the brother indigenous people within each community,” FENAMAD is saying in a memorandum.
There is a real danger this could emerge as the next flashpoint in a disturbing stream of conflicts between communities and oil and mining companies in Peru. The Peruvian Ombudsman Office estimates that of the 273 social and environmental conflicts in Peru in the first six months of 2009, 80 percent were related to extractive industry projects. (In 2008 there were 123 social and environmental conflicts in the same period.)
FENAMAD and other indigenous federations are insisting that foreign oil, gas, and mining companies must attain the free, prior, and informed consent from communities before they can enter any indigenous lands such as the Amarakaeri Communal Reserve. The right of free, prior, and informed consent is a right of indigenous peoples established under international law, and requires free access to full information (including independent analysis of project proposals), adequate time for a community decision free of pressure and coercion, and the option to reject a proposal--or accept under certain conditions.
The failure of oil, gas, and mining companies to gain appropriate access to communities with natural resources limits Peru’s ability to benefit from revenues it needs to help the approximately 50 percent of its population now living in poverty.
The legislature gave Peru’s President Alan Garcia broad powers to promote economic competitiveness through decrees last year, saying it was necessary to adapt legislation to comply with new requirements of the Peru-US Free Trade Agreement. Indigenous federations and many civil society organizations have strongly protested the possible consequences of these laws for the Amazon rainforest and indigenous lands, as well as the fact that they were adopted without transparency or genuine consultation. Some of these legislative decrees were rescinded following violent confrontations last June, but many are still in force.
Oxfam America's campaign—called the Right to Know, Right to Decide—aims to arm local citizens with the information they need to weigh the costs versus the benefits and decide whether to provide consent for the projects to move forward.
“There is a potential for this confrontation to escalate to violence,” says Emily Greenspan, Oxfam America’s policy advisor who monitors oil and gas projects in Peru’s Amazon. “Companies seeking to operate in any areas need to attain the free, prior, and informed consent of communities. Those that appear to be forcing their way into communities risk serious conflict, as we have seen in the recent past.”
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