According to published figures, of the individuals qualified to vote in the referendum, there was a turnout of 50.9 percent in Ayabaca; 59.1 percent in Carmen de la Frontera; and 70 percent in Pacaipampa. Consulta Vecinal reported that of 31,388 registered voters, 18,107 cast ballots—a turnout of roughly 60 percent overall. Of these votes, 17,033 said NO to the mining company and 285 said YES. There were 239 blank ballots and 460 disqualified votes.

"Participation has been successful and voluntary," said Fernando Romero, coordinator for Oxfam International. "We believe that the referendum has succeeded in allowing the people of these three districts to voice their opinion regarding the Rio Blanco project."

The referendum has brought to light the issues at the heart of the Majaz case. First, there is a weak or nonexistent state apparatus in Peru for dealing with such issues—making plain the need for an environmental authority capable of regulating and supervising corporate conduct. Second, there is an urgent need for a land-use plan that would identify sites suitable for mining projects.

After explaining that this is a non-binding referendum that would not translate into law, Romero went on to say that "the inhabitants of mining areas are interested in voicing their opinions and being heard by the authorities."

"This is a call for attention and a reminder that these communities are part of the country and should participate when decisions are made that affect their way of life and their future," Romero said.

On December 15th, a delegation of Chiquitano people engaged in a protest on a main road in the area was attacked by an unknown number of people traveling to a meeting in buses. When the bus passengers encountered a road block created by the protestors they attacked them with sticks, stones and some small arms. Fifty people were injured as the indigenous people attempted to defend themselves.

That same day, the offices of indigenous organizations in the towns of Concepcion and San Javier were attacked, and several of their leaders received death threats, causing them to flee their homes. The Indigenous Central Committee of Concepcion said in a press release that 100 people attacked and destroyed the office shared by several indigenous groups there, destroying computers, cameras and other electronics, office furniture, and two motorcycles before burning the office and all files. No one from the indigenous organizations was injured in this attack.

Details of these attacks were released by the Indigenous Central Committee and the Coordinator of Ethnic People of Santa Cruz (CPESC), the Organization of Chiquitano Indigenous People (OICH), and three other organizations. The indigenous groups denounced the organizers of the attacks, mostly political and business leaders from the area objecting to the work of indigenous people's organizations to gain legal title to their ancestral lands.

Oxfam America funds the work of the OICH and CPESC groups, which are organizing the legal titling of indigenous lands in the Monte Verde region of eastern Bolivia and promoting the human rights of the indigenous peoples there.

This recent wave of well coordinated attacks on indigenous people in eastern Bolivia is just one in a series over the last several years. Bolivia has seen immense disparities between the indigenous majority (close to 80 percent of the population) and tiny elite that controls most of the natural and other resources of the country. The status quo seems likely to change under the current presidency of Evo Morales, who has demonstrated sympathies with the indigenous majority. In the first few months of his administration, he has nationalized the oil and gas industry, removed several obstacles that had slowed down indigenous land claims for decades, and agreed to re-examine fundamental clauses in the national constitution with a particular eye to the way that resources are shared across the population.

"These actions show a complete lack of respect for the human rights of indigenous people," said Gonzalo Delgado, director of Oxfam America's program in South America. "We express our solidarity with our partners in Bolivia, and hope that those responsible for these attacks will be brought to justice."

This report examines current laws and practices relating to mining revenue management in Mali, and presents a series of recommendations for improving transparency and information disclosure.

The authors are A. Rani Parker, Ph.D., and Fred Wood, Ph.D., of Business-Community Synergies (www.bcsynergies.com).

A French language translation of this report is available below.

My grandmother told us that we were many, many Secoyas, between the Rio Napo and Putamayo, near the frontier with Colombia. We must have been over 8,000 there?

At the time of the Spanish conquest many people died from measles and mumps. And even when my grandma was a little girl, she had to escape into the jungle to avoid such terrible diseases. She said that nobody came to help them; people were dying in their houses, like chickens.

Then came the rubber boom. The rubber producers held the Secoyas as slaves. Many Secoyas drank poison to liberate themselves from the indignity of forced labor. Others fled deeper into the jungle.

After all this dislocation the Secoyas regrouped in about 1970. We were only 120 people. And those remaining 120 people, along with their children and grandchildren, were the ones who had to endure the impact of the oil companies. And of those 120, I was one.

This is to contextualize what is happening today. These 120 continue to suffer. Two [just] died of cancer, and eight years ago more people died of cancer. So we wonder, for those 120 native people and their descendants, if our days are numbered too; if some sickness will take us instead of a natural death. This is to say that life is uncertain now.

What has been the impact of oil development on the culture and life of your people?

The oil companies have had a significant cultural impact, especially on our territory. How we used to live—naturally, that is—is no longer natural. We are experiencing the impact of many other cultures, especially from [modern-day migration]. Before we didn't need money because we had everything we needed. There were animals and fish; there was fruit, and medicines. Everything was found in the forest. But now we must go out to buy everything.

We also need to buy notebooks and school supplies. We are now surrounded by school walls in order to learn. The education beforehand for the Secoyas began at four in the morning. The elderly people in the community worked with the young people, teaching them weaving. They also told stories, legends, which taught respect for older people.

Though we agree that education should take place in the classroom, we are not in agreement that the only thing that should be taught is what the government decides should be taught. We see that we are not educating ourselves and our children in the way that our ancestors taught us. In that sense we are losing our culture. Now the youth doesn't know about our legends and our stories and our customs. And this is why now, through our own bilingual education, we are trying to reintegrate our own values, our own cultures, and our own traditions into our education.

Another great impact is on the environment. For example, we no longer have animals because one step behind the oil companies came the colonists. And every time the colonists found an animal they had to shoot it, they had to kill it. [The animals] withdrew farther and farther away. And now we no longer have territories in which we have everything we need around us; in which we can go from one side to the other. Everything has its owner. Now there are other communities—Shuar communities and Kichwa communities—which were ours before. This is a reduction of our territory. Right now we're enclosed and circumscribed by different pacts. There is one pact with the oil company; the African palm company [harvesting hearts of palm]; the colonists; even other indigenous people who have migrated here from their ancestral homes in other provinces.

What has really damaged us is the pollution in the rivers. This is really the worst part, along with the contamination in the air and the earth itself on which we cultivate our plants and our food. These are the terrible effects that have been visited upon us.

Although we talk about remediation, I think it will be difficult to repair what has been damaged. I think perhaps we will never be able to, because even though we might repair the natural environment, modern society is here among us—on our doorstep—and we will never be able to repair that.

We have seen many new sicknesses that we didn't see in our people before. We the Secoyas knew how to cure ourselves when those sicknesses were natural sicknesses. But now, with these unknown diseases, not even the best healer among us knows how to cure them. I think if we don't now have people who really know how to cure those previously unknown diseases, if we don't resolve this case against Texaco, then the very few Secoyas that remain—about 400 of us—will lose our culture and we may be finished off by sickness or disease. Or for other reasons we will disappear bit by bit. This is what I can tell you about the impact of the oil industry on the Secoya people.

Can you see a resolution of the Texaco case that could help your people survive?

Yes there is a hope for us, in the way that we have been organizing around Texaco because the Sionas, Secoyas, and Cofanes, we are the ones who have lived here in Sucumbios. We are the original owners of these territories and we have seen all of the damage that has been done here. So we organized through some friendly organizations—they came and told us about human rights—before we knew nothing about human rights. And through friends and allies the Sionas, Secoyas, Cofanes, and Kichwas started to organize in order to bring justice to this case.

We, as one part of the affected people, believe that since we have already waited 10 years [while the case languished in the United States courts]; we could wait and continue another 10 years if necessary. This is our priority. People are saying: "If we don't get this resolved, what are we doing? If we can't drink the water from our traditional sources—then what?"

So we are newly united since the case has been presented in a court here, and now we are just waiting for the judge's decisions. We are assisted by Oxfam America and other people. We feel we are engaging in common work to ensure a future for the people who are in danger of disappearing.

We can't waste time being sorry about what has happened. We have to be able to defend and exercise the same rights as Spanish-speaking mestizo people do in our own territory.

I don't anticipate a lot of difficulties in the judicial inspections phase, except for the financing of the inspections. The evidence provided by the judicial inspections is the fundamental basis for the case. The evidence must be supported scientifically, and this is expensive. If there?s not enough money to carry out these tests, I anticipate serious problems, and we run the risk of losing the case.

With the legal process itself, I don't foresee difficulties because the laws determine the process that should be followed, and the Judge will make a decision based on what the law says. He needs to determine his decision according to the law.

As for the final sentence: I will reserve judgments about what I think might happen. Unfortunately our courts have weaknesses, and there are many examples of corruption and political influence and political pressures on the legal system. For example, at our conference today we just heard the delegate from Ecuador's Ministry of Foreign Commerce say that the US government asked for the Texaco case to be dropped as a condition for negotiating a free trade agreement. Although the government has publicly said they do not accept this position, we are certain that pressure will be applied to the judge to decide in favor of Texaco. And that is very dangerous because for me what is at stake is the dignity of the Ecuadorian Amazon and the dignity of the justice system.

The only thing that I hope for in the Texaco case is that justice can be done. Those of us who live here have a great opportunity to demonstrate to the rest of the country that we are men and women with rights equal to those of others.

Why did you become a lawyer and decide to work with the Amazon Defense Front?

Since I was very small, I was always searching for justice. When I was 14, and my parents migrated from Esmeraldas, where we lived before, here to Sucumbios, I worked in an African palm plantation company for four years. Afterwards I worked for an oil company, also for four years, and in both places I saw great injustices with the workers and the campesinos. I also saw grave destruction of the environment. I shared these concerns with others, and so about six young people (I was just 17 at the time) agreed, we said "we must do something about these problems." Some were colleagues from work, some were friends from school, and others were from a church youth group. So when we got together and started to take actions with protests and complaints or simply pointing out problems and suggesting solutions, I got into trouble. That was the reason they fired me from the African palm plantation company. Then the oil company threw me out for defending the rights of other workers.

And so from this experience came my dream, my idea, to become a professional. A lawyer. To defend those like myself and others who would be denied their rights, especially for rural people.

Fortunately the church supported me for about 12 years. When I was left without work in the companies, the church gave me work so that I could continue with my studies and social service. I worked with the church until about one year ago when I was hired by the Amazon Defense Front.

You had to overcome many obstacles to become a lawyer, didn't you?

The first obstacle and the most important one was the economic obstacle. My parents provided education for me until [eighth grade]. From there on I had to do it on my own—to study and to work. So I worked during the day and studied at night. And when I entered the university, the church helped me by providing more than half of the tuition. That was not easy for them. And it was very difficult for me as I simply didn't have the money. Out of 10 brothers and sisters, I am the only one who finished high school, because of a lack of resources.

The group of friends that I mentioned before also helped me. And I also took other jobs. I worked for the radio doing the news, and as a professor in a distance learning program. I had to study from four until seven in the morning. Then I had to go to work until six at night. The time I had free for lunch midday I dedicated to doing news on the radio. At night I taught high school classes, so my work day was from four in the morning until 11 or 12 at night. That was how I got to this point.

In modern day Mali, it remains to be seen which of these images most accurately depicts reality. Gold production is growing quickly in Mali, which is now the third largest gold producer in Africa (after South Africa and Ghana). Gold has replaced cotton as Mali's leading export and has been promoted by the Bretton Woods Institutions as a key driver of Mali's national development. The Syama goldmine discussed in this report was the first large mine constructed during Mali's current gold boom. In a country ranked 164 out of 172 on the Human Development Index and with 90.6 percent of the population living on less than $2 per day, it is hard not to see the allure of gold's earning power.

This study, drawing on the lessons learned from Syama, examines the contribution of Mali's gold industry and its potential as a tool for development and poverty reduction. It presents data on a range of impacts (direct and indirect, positive and negative), tied to the operation and closing of the Syama gold mine.

"Extractive Sectors and the Poor" comes on the eve of a new yearlong World Bank review of its oil, gas, and mining investments. The report contests the conventional economic wisdom that developing nations prosper by extracting and exporting their oil and mineral wealth.

Concerned by the proposed relocation and by threats to their agriculturally based livelihoods, local populations have mounted significant resistance to the project. On February 27 and 28, 2001, an estimated 10,000 people participated in blocking road access to the exploration site. A recent initiative collected approximately 28,000 notarized signatures of individuals in the Tambogrande district, of approximately 37,000 eligible voters, who are opposed to the mine. Tambogrande's Mayor and local Archbishop have called for the project not to go forward, citing not only the potential environmental impacts, but the mine's
disruptive social impacts, already evident in the exploration phase due to the tense environment of distrust and conflict that exists in the area. The archbishop has called the project "socially unviable." These actions represent significant opposition to the proposed mine by affected citizens and community leaders.

Manhattan Minerals, a mining "junior" with no previous experience operating a mine of this size, and no other current projects, rode into Peru on the wave of the country’s recent mining boom. With the privatization of Peru's mining sector in the early 1990s, foreign investment in the sector has exploded over the past decade. From 1992 to 1997, the volume of mining operations in Peru tripled from 30,000 to 100,000 metric tons of minerals per day. Land area devoted to exploration and extraction increased from 4 million to 18 million hectares between 1992 and 1998. According to the Financial Times, Peru has had South America's highest rate of exploration success in recent years, driving Latin America's emergence as the most popular continent for new mining projects. The Tambo Grande project is located in the department of Piura, a department that up until now has not been known for mining, but rather agriculture. Manhattan's operation may open the door to the exploitation of hundreds of thousands of hectares currently under concession in Piura. The impact on traditional agricultural livelihoods, from which the vast majority of Piurans draw sustenance and income, could be significant.