More and more, poor people are asserting their right to decide if or how they want oil, gas, and mining development to take place in their community—and their right to know about the impacts and benefits of these projects.
]]>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Oxfam America partner and one of the largest federations representing indigenous peoples in Peru’s Amazon, has withdrawn from the dialogue process, citing lack of progress and reluctance on the part of the government to accept its share of the responsibility for the violence in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.”
]]>At least 30 people have been killed in recent weeks in violent confrontations between indigenous protestors and police. The overturn of these decrees now sets the stage for dialogue. Shortly after congress rescinded them, President Alan Garcia delivered a speech in which he said that his government should have included indigenous people in discussions about the decrees before he issued them.
The government of Peru is now initiating a commission to start a dialogue with indigenous people, and will include Oxfam's partner AIDESEP, which represents a highly diverse group of indigenous organizations from all over the Amazon region.
"Oxfam hopes this dialogue initiative will be an important first step toward lasting solutions based on indigenous peoples rights and ensuring strong environmental regulation of extractive activities in the Amazon," said Frank Boeren, Oxfam America's Deputy Director in South America.
]]>West African countries produce millions of ounces of gold each year, but the region is one of the poorest in the world. Provisions set forth in a directive issued by the Economic Community of West Africa States (ECOWAS) create a basis for helping communities ensure that mining revenues will be used in ways that will reduce poverty, and that they enjoy some of the benefits of wealth produced by mining—instead of simply enduring the costs in terms of pollution, and loss of farm lands. Uniform standards across the region will help prevent destructive competition for foreign investment that force governments to relax environmental and financial standards.
Richard Ellimah, from Obuasi, Ghana, says the new mining directive is "probably the most audacious attempt by the sub regional body to address concerns of mining-affected communities... We are looking forward to using the directive to demand respect for human rights, and freedom of information."
Campaign activities during the week of action will take place in Ghana, Burkina Faso, Senegal, Nigeria, and Mali, and will include debates and information workshops to teach people in communities affected by mining about the principles in the ECOWAS mining directive. Top among those principles is free, prior, and informed consent, which will give people the right to say whether—and under what terms—mining can be carried out in their community. Civil society organizations will reach out to the press, holding information workshops for the media and interested environmental and social organizations. Organizations also plan to contact their legislatures and mining ministries to ask them to change their regulations to comply with the ECOWAS directive on mining.
Six allied organizations held a press conference following the workshop and released a statement calling on the government to revoke permits it granted Newmont Mining of Denver to explore for gold in the Ajenua Bepo Forest Reserve. "When government revokes the Environmental Permit to mine in Ajenua Bepo Forest Reserve it would demonstrate its preparedness to define forest reserves as 'No Go Zones' for mining," the statement says.
"This campaign is the next phase of the movement towards an increased citizens' participation in public policy making and better governance and regulation in the mining sector in West Africa," says Ibrahima Aidara, Oxfam America's lead expert on extractive industries in West Africa.
]]>Amankwaa, 48, is a serious, no-nonsense business woman who rarely cracks a smile, but is patiently answering questions about her farm. She is gracious to visitors because she wants them to know she will not willingly sell her six small farms to an American mining company intent on exploiting the gold under the land in her Ghanaian village, Mehame, which means "don't bother me" in the local Twi dialect.
Amankwaa looks around the cocoa pods and all the trees. "This land was given to me by my grandmother; it had old cocoa trees on it and I cut them down and planted new ones," she says. "Now they are growing very well. This is what I depend on for everything, to keep my children in school and all the money we use for food we eat, the house we built, everything is from the cocoa farms."
"This farm is my life," she says finally, "My life is this farm."
The farmers here are industrious. One stood up in an informal meeting back in town to say "If you grow cocoa and don't make money, then you are not working hard." And the farmers in Mehame do make money: Amankwaa earns about $3,200 per year, which is roughly six times the national average income in Ghana. She and her husband have three children. The oldest is finished with school and growing cocoa himself, and the other two are in high school, a boy and a girl. They have a large concrete house with a proper roof, electricity, and clean water from a well.
Given everything they have achieved in Mehame, some of the farmers are skeptical about the proposal to expand the nearby Ahafo mine into their village, swallowing up their cocoa farms and homes. In exchange they would get compensation for their land and be given new homes somewhere else, but this is not an attractive option to Amankwaa and some others. "We don't want to be resettled somewhere, to be sent to another place, to another person's land," Amankwaa says. "We just want to be at peace with our farms and our children."
The American company looking to expand its mine into the area near Mehame seems to have the support of the government, and there is little opportunity for the local farmers to express their opposition to the mine expansion.
At first there were just rumors, then the villagers heard chainsaws in the forest, and found crews exploring for minerals without their permission. The company, Newmont Mining of Denver, arrived for formal visits with the chief, along with representatives from the Brong-Ahafo regional government, and a member of parliament. "Later on we heard the company found people and pushed them to say they wanted mining here, and used them to prove the community approved," Amankwaa says. She says this compelled opponents of mining to call on Oxfam America's partner WACAM to teach them how to defend their rights.
Working with WACAM, the farmers attended workshops in communities already affected by mining to learn about the potential social and environmental costs like pollution to the many streams that feed their farms. And they are learning to organize themselves, Amankwaa says. "With their advice, we have been able to unite and advocate for our position."
When a group of farmers convene to discuss their concerns about mining, the talk inevitably turns to ways they can defend their farms. Hannah Owusu-Koranteng of WACAM cautions the group against violence: "Protect your property, but don't sacrifice your life," she tells them. "Not all struggles should be violent. You can struggle by jaw-jaw, [talking], use your wisdom and language to win your struggle."
Abdullah Selifa, a 28-year-old employee of WACAM in Brong-Ahafo, says their first task it to ensure farmers like the ones in Mehame understand their rights in Ghana's constitution.
"We are fortunate to live in a democratic country," he says, and goes on to describe the articles in Ghana's constitution that protect the right to private property.
Nevertheless, the farmers are sure to have concerns about confronting powerful forces. "The people here have courage, but they are concerned about intimidation," Selifa says. "So we try to show them that they do not have to be afraid of struggling for their rights in the constitution—and that the government is there to protect their rights."
The community's latest move is to write their political representatives to ask for help. If they get a negative response, Selifa says they will take legal action to protect their farms.
]]>"That is it," he says finally, "that is it."
The nearby Ajenua Bepo Forest reserve near Akyem supports a rich ecosystem. The tall trees are impressive as they reach up to the sky. Around them is a warm climate, with ample rain, and rich soils. The farmers near the forest take advantage of it to grow plantains, cocoa, kola nuts, and vegetables. It is not an easy life. Everyone works hard. The more successful farmers may not be wealthy in western terms, but they do not see themselves as poor. They are proud of what they do.
The farmers in Akyem say it is not as tranquil as it used to be. The American company Newmont Mining has bought a concession to explore for gold in this area, and is negotiating with the villagers to get the land they farm, compensate them for their crops, and relocate them to another place to make way for a mining pit 1.5 miles long and half a mile wide.
The company even wants to mine in the forest reserve, and the government seems willing to allow it. In April 2008, 215 members of the Concerned Farmers Association in Akyem Adausina signed a petition against mining in the forest.
In 2005 there was a demonstration against the mining proposal, and one person was shot and killed. Oxfam America's partner WACAM came to investigate the killing, and called for an investigation into the death.
Samuel Fosuhene, 65, a village councilor at that time, became wary of the prospect of mining in the town. He resigned from the council and started supporting WACAM's efforts to organize people in the village to learn about and represent their rights in negotiations with Newmont.
Fosuhene and Kwabena say there are three main issues in Akyem:
Fosuhene's main concern is responsible stewardship of the land. "Land is bequeathed from generation to generation," he says. "So if by allowing surface mining we will deprive...the generation yet unborn, then you have to be very careful."
But land management is difficult. "In our part of the world, no individual owns land," says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng of WACAM. "Even the chiefs, they do not own the land, they keep it in trust for the future of the community and its needs."
This system is at odds with the government's right to all mineral rights. It can lease the land to anyone for mining in the name of development, Owusu-Koranteng says.
The 2006 Minerals and Mining Act requires people be compensated for loss of land allocated to them by the chief, and sharecroppers need to be compensated for the crops they are growing on the land. At this point, WACAM says the company is offering eight US dollars for a cocoa tree, even though the trees produce $20 of cocoa a year for 40 years at least.
Kwabena and his siblings are concerned about losing their family home, a sprawling, 12-room concrete house that was the center of the community when his father was the chief.
In front lies the pacification stone, where errant community members confessing disrespect to authority would show remorse by slaughtering livestock. Inside the bright red walls are a series of rooms, the drums the chief would use to summon the community for meetings, the ceremonial stool and dais on which the chief sat to hold court, and the palanquin used to transport him on special occasions. Kwabena shows visitors the home, his arms outstretched as he moves through the rooms and courtyards, describing the activities of the royal household.
"This is a palace," he says next to the dais where his father dispensed wisdom to the village. "Even though it is such an old building, we are comfortable in it."
With such a nice house, with such a rich history, Kwabena and his 21 brothers and sisters, and all their children are concerned about being relocated to smaller quarters. "My father used to occupy a 16-foot by 14-foot room," Kwabena says, gesturing off to the other end of the courtyard. "You can't remove us and put us in a 9-foot by 9-foot room. That is uncomfortable and I seriously object to it."
Standing behind their house, Kwabena raises an even greater concern: "All the great chiefs who have reigned in this village are buried here," Kwabena says quietly standing under the tree planted for his father. "We can't look on and allow them to dump [mine] waste on them. It is a sacred place."
"That is it," Kwabena says, this time with conviction. "That is it."
]]>La Paz is a small collection of rustic shelters, on the side of the road 20 minutes from Lake Izabal in eastern Guatemala. It blends into the intense green hills, dotted with small corn fields and criss-crossed by footpaths. It is the scene of a struggle between indigenous farmers and an international corporation intent on exploring for minerals on the land the Q'eq'chi use for growing corn and beans.
Freddie Mo Qub, a young leader of the community, explains the situation: A mining company called Skye Resources has a license from the government of Guatemala to explore for minerals in the area. Property rights are not clear, and the company insists it has the right to charge them rent to farm on the 3,300 acres where they have lived and worked for many of years. Eventually, they are told, they will have to leave.
The people of La Paz have designated Mo Qub, 30, to learn about the plans for the mine, determine what dangers they face, and help them develop a strategy for the way forward. He has been participating in workshops run by the Association of Friends of Lake Izabal, or ASALI as it is known in Spanish. ASALI has also taken him to visit mine sites in the western highlands of Guatemala, as well as in Honduras.
ASALI's director Eloyda Mejía is at the meeting. She says the workshops, which are done with help from Oxfam America, are designed to help the indigenous people in the area learn about their rights, and the ways that modern mines operate. When Mejía addresses the meeting, she says, "we want you to learn, see for yourselves, and make your own decisions about mining."
Mo Qub says the ASALI workshops are an invaluable source of information. La Paz is now connected to different areas of the country where indigenous people are experiencing similar problems. "If it weren't for these workshops, we would not have any clear information about the effects of mining in our communities," he says.
He has seen that mining communities in Guatemala do not benefit much from the revenues from the minerals taken from their lands. While they may be relocated and lose their fields and water sources, they may or may not get a decent job at a mine site, which usually hires skilled workers.
Mo Qub says after seeing the effects of mining on other indigenous people in Guatemala, Las Paz is not in favor of the Skye Resources project. "Everyone wants the mine to leave," he says about La Paz. "The same way it came is the way it can go. Mines use a lot of water, they pollute the water, and will damage the agricultural potential here."
For the Q'eq'chi people, the situation is curious, and a bit infuriating. They pay to work land that has been theirs for many generations, and are being pushed to leave it altogether. "We are 100 percent Guatemalans," Mo Qub says. "How is it possible that a foreign company can accuse us of illegally occupying this land? The words they say to us are offensive, and deeply anger us."
The meeting ends with a prayer, just as it started. The farmers may pray individually, but afterwards a woman says they are working together to defend their small part of the world, where they have lived for centuries. "We are united," she says. "We know our children will have no place to go if we don't fight for our land now." Like many others, she is not eager to share her name with strangers.
As if to show they will remain here, several of the men sharpen their machetes, and start clearing the grass and weeds away from the entrance of the meeting place. They slice the grass with long graceful slashes. The machetes make a metallic ringing sound as the grass jumps away from the blades, which blur as they arc off to the side and back again.
]]>Mining has never been a significant part of El Salvador's economy, but modern techniques make it attractive in some areas. The Canadian mining company Pacific Rim is currently exploring for minerals in three areas, and has requested a concession to restart mining at the El Dorado mine in the department of Cabañas where it says it has invested $28 million and can produce 1.2 million ounces of gold and 7.4 million ounces of silver. Pacific Rim is also in the early stages of exploration on its Zamora project, near Texistepeque, Santa Ana.
Farmers near the town of Texistepeque are skeptical about mining, and some have even visited large-scale mines in Honduras and come back opposed to any mining in El Salvador. Salvador Antonio Seseña Rodruígez, 62, is one of the farmers who made the trip to the San Andres mine in Honduras. "I was really impressed by the destruction," he said about the mine. "We saw the main river there was almost dry, and there was no life in the river."
Rodruígez is a father of 10, and makes a living raising cows and growing corn and beans. So he was particularly concerned about the water problems he saw. "We already have a water crisis here," he says. "We can't drink contaminated water. How will we end up if we allow mining here?"
It was through his church and a meeting with the Centro de Investigación Sobre Inversión y Comercio (know as CEICOM) that he participated in the exchange visit. He came back ready to mobilize others in his community.
Oxfam America is working with CEICOM and a coalition of social, environmental, and other civil society organizations pushing for a voice in a real debate about whether mining is suitable for El Salvador, where some estimates say 90 percent of surface water is already polluted. The country has also been largely deforested, leaving many communities at risk of landslides during heavy rains, so many are already concerned about the environment. The Salvadorian Bishop's Conference released a statement saying mining causes damage to the environment and communities in May of 2007.
Civil society organization in El Salvador have proposed a law that would prohibit all hard-rock mineral mining, arguing the country is too densely populated and water is too scarce to support the industry.
Oxfam America's program in Central America, which is based in El Salvador, is working to enrich the debate on this issue, help civil society project its voice and hold the government accountable to the people, and provide information about mining and its effects on communities and the environment that citizens can use to make informed decisions.
The government of El Salvador has said it will not grant any new licenses to explore or operate mines until it does a strategic environmental study to assess the likely impact of open-pit mining in the country. "We feel this study should be done with the participation of civil society," says David Pereira of CEICOM. He said that in 2006 the minister of natural resources came out publicly against mining, saying the government did not have the capacity to regulate the industry. The minister then challenged civil society to change the laws and cautioned land owners not to sell their land to mining companies.
Some members of the senate have written a public letter to government leaders saying that they believe allowing industrial mining into the northern areas of the country will jeopardize development projects supported by the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC), a $460-million, US government-funded foreign aid program, to bring sustained economic development in that region.
Pacific Rim continues to explore at El Dorado, which it says is its flagship property. The company is running an aggressive public relations campaign with radio ads introducing the slogan "minería verde" in an attempt to win hearts and minds of government and citizens. It also sponsors municipal soccer teams, and holds community meetings to sway farmers to accept mining in their community.
In the meantime, the Environmental Committee of Cabañas is reporting that 10 natural springs have dried up in the past month in areas close to Pacific Rim exploratory drilling. These reports have been verified by the Ministry of Natural Resources. In one of the cases, cattle-raising communities lost their natural spring four days after Pacific Rim began drilling. The company is now trucking in daily rations of water.
]]>Farmers in this area are typically informed that the government has conceded their land to the mine and that there is nothing they can do about it. Joanna knew better. "I know my rights, and I knew the law would take its course," she said.
Manu had attended a training session with Oxfam America's partner WACAM, where she learned that farmers can only be removed from their land if they have been compensated for it. This helped her make a strong argument. "I told the court that I was there before the company came and that it had not compensated me. So the company has no right to push me off this land."
"And I am still farming there," Manu said, smiling just a little. "I learned this in my training, and it is thanks to this new knowledge that I could do this."
WACAM's training not only helped Manu defend her own rights and farmland, but also helped her become one of the key organizers in her community, Dumasi, a small collection of mud and concrete houses piled on the side of a hill on the road between two larger mining towns, Prestea and Tarkwa. Farmers line the road selling tomatoes and yams as trucks and cars blast past in the dust and heat. The forest looms over Dumasi; dark green surrounds the hardwood trees and small fields that farmers hack out of the dense brush.
Open-pit gold mining has had serious negative effects ranging from housing damage caused by the explosives used to blast apart the pit to reveal ore, just over 300 yards from the village, to pollution of the local drinking water source, the Aprepre River, in 2004 and 2006. Again, training from WACAM has helped Manu and her neighbors push the company to respect their rights and its obligations.
After the mine spilled cyanide into the stream in 2004, Manu and her father immediately collected water samples and dead fish, and sent them to WACAM and Ghana's Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). "WACAM taught us that cyanide is extremely poisonous, but that exposure to the sun reduces its toxicity," Manu explained. "Usually when we complain to the EPA they take 10 days to come here, so that is why we had to get the samples right away." WACAM helped secure medical care for sick villagers and convened a press conference so the villagers could pressure the company to clean up the mess and compensate people affected by the poison. WACAM and another legal aid organization funded by Oxfam America, CEPIL, helped the citizens of Dumasi take the company to court, and they are awaiting a decision.
Efforts like this have helped the people of Dumasi force the company to halt the blasting that hurled rocks into their houses and cracked their foundations. For now the mining has stopped while the company tries to relocate the village—but first it has to negotiate a deal with a group of citizens who will no longer allow the government and mining company to take advantage of them.
The training WACAM provided for the people of Dumasi has helped them defend their rights, but it is also changing the way they think about themselves and others. Manu realized that she can be a leader, someone who can make a difference in her village and the world. "After this training, I can see how important education is, so I am enrolled in school," she said. "I want to be a political leader, maybe a member of parliament."
Manu's motivations and sense of responsibility go well beyond her village. "I see fellow human beings as I see myself, and if they can't defend their rights, then I have to help them," she said. "I am saving humanity."
]]>The Izabal region, which is located in northeastern Guatemala, along the borders of Belize and Honduras, is one of the country's richest in natural resources. It is home to the country's largest lake—Lake Izabal—which has a unique ecosystem that includes hundreds of animal species, some of which are endangered. The people who live around the lake give it a rich cultural mix—they are ladinos, Garifuna and Maya Q'eq'chi indigenous people. Their livelihood is based on fishing, planting corn, beans and cardamom, and ecotourism. The region's unique resources give it great potential for sustainable development.
Among the natural resources in the area are oil, gold, silver and nickel. The government has granted mining concession to foreign companies, including the Guatemalan Nickel Corporation (known as CGN in Spanish), which is a subsidiary of Skye Resources of Canada. CGN received a license to mine nickel in Izabal in 2005 and will begin operations in 2008. CGN has wrongly accused Eloyda Mejia and other members of ASALI of squatting on company property.
Critics of the mining project say it endangers the abundant natural resources in the region and offers little in the way of local development because companies pay only one percent of their profits in royalties and only half of that—0.5 percent—goes to the municipality where the mine is located.
ASALI was created to defend the lake, its surrounding areas, and its indigenous culture. In 2002, ASALI was successful in its bid cancel a license to drill for oil under the lake. Since then it has been educating and informing the local population about the consequences and problems that mining can cause in the region and about the alternatives for sustainable development that existing natural resources can provide. Oxfam America had been helping to fund the work of ASALI since 2006.
The case of Eloyda Mejia and ASALI are not isolated incidents. In recent years, those who have opposed mining in their communities—principally indigenous communities—have received threats and suffered acts of repression. In January of 2007, there were incidents in numerous communities in Izabal in which people were driven from their homes or in which their homes were destroyed by security forces and police.
"Communities and local organizations, which in Guatemala are largely indigenous, should have the right to express whether they are in favor or against mining, based on objective information about its probable impact, without suffering retaliation," said Oxfam America's program officer Andres McKinley. "These opinions should be taken into account by the government and the mining companies."
]]>She was also furious. "This should not happen to us," she said later, referring to the residents of her village of Teberebie, which had been relocated to accommodate a new mining operation in the area. "What did we do wrong?"
Mr. Baidoo had been walking away from a confrontation between farmers and a military force when he was wounded. The protest arose after the military began blocking a road the farmers used to travel to their fields where they grow cocoa and palm trees, yams, cassava, and other fruits and vegetables. Having recently been denied this route through the mine property, and tired of the alternative—a longer, 12-mile round trip on foot—the entire town turned out in February 2006 to demand access to the road. Baidoo and one other man were shot, and several people were beaten.
Amoateng immediately called WACAM, the environmental and human rights organization partly funded by Oxfam that had trained her and others in the community. "I reported that Anthony had been shot, and was lying in his own blood," she said. After WACAM's director Daniel Owusu-Koranteng called the head of the AngloGold Ashanti mine company, Baidoo got the medical care he needed to survive at the company's expense. After recovering for eight months in the hospital he is now disabled.
Teberebie is a farming community in the Wassa West District of Ghana's Western Region. The community was resettled in 1991 to make room for the AngloGold Ashanti, Iduapriem Mine, which is now producing over 300,000 ounces of gold per year. It is just one of many scenes of violence over the last several years, as Ghana has thrown open its doors to foreign companies and relaxed its rules on investment to encourage more mining. The shootings in Teberebie were just two of 15 reported by the BBC in 2005 and 2006.
Amoateng is now a leader of the Concerned Farmers' Association of Teberebie, which consists of 35 farmers who have worked with WACAM to learn about their human rights under Ghana's constitution and Minerals and Mining Act. She is leading this group in a legal case against AngloGold, alleging non-payment of compensation for their lost farms, which are now buried under piles of waste rock.
Amoateng, 30, said she is now more aware of how the government and mining companies in the area are violating the rights of people in her community—and what to do about it. "Because of WACAM, I now know where to go and who to contact in case of any problem in the community," she said. Her recent activities have included leading a march to the nearby town of Tarkwa, where radio, television, and newspaper journalists interviewed her about the situation facing farmers in Teberebie.
In Ghana, as in many other countries in Africa and other parts of the world, women do not usually lead political struggles. Speaking out publicly is simply out of the question for most women in communities affected by mining in Ghana. Men are normally perceived as the voices of the community. But with the right training and personal ambition, women like Amoateng are showing they are strong leaders.
To more effectively represent her community, Amoateng is presently studying to finish high school and prepare for university. She aspires to be a lawyer and an advocate for women and children.
Her concerns center on basic justice for Teberebie. "The 1992 constitution and the Minerals and Mining Act are my closest friends now," Amoateng said. "I don't want the mining company to cheat my community. And I know my rights as a citizen living in a mining community."
Amoateng's work is a good example of how WACAM uses education as a tool to empower mining communities in their struggle to improve their living conditions. Her training with WACAM has strengthened her community as well as her own ability to represent her neighbors. "This has made me very powerful in the sight of both the mining company, and the men in my community," she said. "I am proud of myself."
Jerry Mensah-Pah is a radio and newspaper journalist based in Tarkwa, Ghana, and has been covering human rights violations related to communities affected by mining for four years. He works for WACAM in the Western Region of Ghana as its assistant programs officer.
]]>In 1996 he and about 25,000 others from several villages were informed they were being evicted from their farms in Ghana's western rain forests to make room for a gold mine run by Gold Fields Ghana, Ltd. "I was not happy," Pelpuo said. "But at the end of the day I had to accept it because the government gave the land to the company. They are not treating us fairly, giving the land to the company without informing the community members."
Since the government of Ghana retains the rights to the minerals under his land, there was not much a farmer like Pelpuo could do—or so he thought. He, along with others from several villages being moved to a new town called New Atuabo, attended a training program led by Oxfam America's partner WACAM, where they learned about their basic rights to own property. They realized that they had a right to negotiate compensation for their lost homes and lands. "Initially we had no knowledge, and we had to learn that what the company was doing was not right," Pelpuo said.
Gold Fields and government representatives did negotiate with community representatives, but the talks became difficult. One community representative was intimidated and eventually arrested for allegedly insulting representatives of the military and local chiefs supporting the mine's offer, according to Daniel Owusu-Koranteng, Executive Director of WACAM. After convincing him to publicly apologize to the chief, the company and its allies then got 95 percent of the relocated families to go along with the deal.
However, Pulpuo and about 125 others refused to accept the compensation offer, and took action themselves late in 1996. With the help of WACAM and the legal aid organization CEPIL, they began negotiating with Gold Fields, a company with mining operations in four countries that last year made a $69 million net profit with over 700,000 ounces of gold from their Ghana mine alone.
At the heart of the disagreement between the company and the group of farmers, which became known as the Lawyer's Group, was the so called "value for value" calculation used by the company to determine what size concrete house would replace existing homes, many made of mud with thatch roofs. "I had 12 rooms," said Agnes Ackon, 68, a mother of five and grandmother of 12. "They were going to replace them with six."
"We learned the language of the court, and got paralegal training to understand our rights," Pelpuo said. "When we met with the company we did not entertain any fears, because we knew our rights. And out of this, the company could see what we were saying at first, and we started to get some of the things we need."
While they were negotiating, many of the Lawyer's Group members stayed in their existing homes as the mining activity moved in around them. One group of homes lost all their clean water as mine activity affected nearby streams, and all suffered from loss of income as their fields were converted to mining pits and waste rock dumps. Many were forced to pull their children out of school because they could no longer afford the fees.
The Lawyer's Group and Gold Fields struggled to come to agreement until Agnes Ackon came up with the solution in 2001: "I suggested that the hospital was now too far away since we moved, and we needed a clinic here now," she said. So in exchange for accepting a new house with fewer rooms and some cash, the Lawyer's Group secured a health clinic for New Atuabo.
"We had to sacrifice for it," Pelpuo said. It was particularly generous of the Lawyer's Group members as they had suffered already at the hands of the company and their neighbors, who had treated them as foolish renegades for disputing their compensation. Yet the Lawyer's Group thanked them by negotiating a public benefit the whole town could enjoy. They even got a commitment from the regional health authority to staff and supply the clinic after construction was completed.
Like many real-life stories, there is not yet a happy ending in New Atuabo. Although the town's neat concrete houses with metal roofs are now arranged on straight streets, they mask the problems of unemployment among the displaced farmers, many of whom are illiterate and unable to secure jobs at the mine.
The new housing comes with new costs, as well. As Pelpuo puts it, "Where we used to live we did not have to pay for water, but after resettlement all this cost is now on the community members. We have to pay for water, sanitation, and we have no jobs."
The members of the Lawyer's Group also suffered an insult when the new health clinic was officially commissioned in 2002. At a public ceremony, the health ministry and mine company took full credit for its construction, and failed to recognize that the money used to build it came out of the compensation fund negotiated from the relocated farmers in the Lawyer's Group.
Despite this indignity, the farmers did learn about and stand up for their rights—a real achievement. "There was lots of intimidation" said Owusu-Koranteng of WACAM. "But they persisted, and it led to a better settlement for the entire community."
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