Three months in honduras working for a non governmental organization working with communities affected by Canadian mining operations during a military coup has thrown me into latin america politics unlike any course, conversation or rereads of Galeano could have ever, ever done.

The mining issue here in Honduras seems to be about as polarized as the current political crisis the country is facing. This polarization and absence of unity was best demonstrated to me during a recent visit to the Valle de Siria San Martin Mine.We had arranged to meet with anti-mining activists Wednesday morning, which also happened to be a recently declared international day of activism against open pit mining. After a five hour trek, myself, and my three esteemed ‘helpers’ for the day, pulled into the community of El Porvenir. A local woman claimed that the mine was bad, look at it, she pointed at the massive plank of destroyed land, it makes people sick, it poisons our water, the mine is bad, she claimed. Not yet convinced, we ventured into the town centre.

I was accompanied by two bilingual Hondurans, one a communications expert and one a lawyer, and a Canadian colleague. Our first stop on this visit was to the local school. The teachers in Honduras are infamous for their leftist views on pretty much everything; the mining issue is no different. As the teachers were in a meeting, we decided to kill time and check out the central park. Far from any vision of community development mining brochures had led me to believe in, the park was more like a concrete slab, the church without a pastor and the streets into the community were flooded, and eerily barren.

As we admired the interior of the community church, the lawyer interrogated community members to see if anyone would chat with a curious Canadian and NGO representatives. Three pulperia owners jumped at the opportunity to talk. We all snuggled on some small chairs in this little convenience store and the female shop owner asked, so what do you want to know. Just the story, we replied. We decided to try to stay as impartial as possible, seeking a nuanced version of the mine from this community. Well, she said, the mine came here years ago, they paid our families a good price for new homes in Palo Ralo, the community that was relocated. The mine does some really good development projects, like it developed the central park, she points out the window to the concrete slab/park. Hm. She continues to excitedly remark about the water piping system the company has implemented, and confidently claims that all those anti mining activists are liars – the rivers here never had water, nobody is sick and the mine is replanting all the land it destroyed.

Actually, do you want to go? She asks. Before we have time to answer, the woman is on the phone with Pedro, who asks for our names, if we are Canadian and if we want to get a private tour of the mine in a half an hour. We agree to go, but take a short walk beforehand and decide to split up. Two head off with the mine representatives, and another two of us with the anti mining critics.

An hour later, as the lawyer and the Canadian learn about turtle ponds and environmental restoration projects from their air conditioned truck with a representative from Entre Mares, myself and my other colleague are riding in the back of a teachers truck around the mine, driving through one dried out river after another, watching families cluster to bathe in the one river that does have water, and looking through overgrown grass at abandoned homes. The teacher tells us his family was well compensated by the mine upon relocation, but at the cost of what, he probes? Their health? Arable land? I would rather be poor than sick he exclaims.

We tell another teacher, a leader in Honduras with the regional network of women against mining, about the pulperia owner and the positive comments she made about the mine. She shakes her head. This mine seems to mean something different for everyone. But the water pipes, the school paid for those, and no the company does not pay for our salaries, and the one small health centre that we have for all these communities, with its twenty staff is hardly development. Hm. We are against the mine. We want the mine to close. Some women in Guatemala are negotiating with the companies, not us. We want them gone. Forever. And we never want them to come back.

Meanwhile, our friends are learning about how the mine, now in its 2 year closing down phase, is developing a foundation to transfer leftover money and land to bursaries and community projects including 15,000 chickens, pig farm and German funded biofuel grow-op on land where cyanide remains.

A microcosm of development in Latin America. Highly polarized. Communities divided. Families divided. Lacking unity. and in most cases, lacking development.

Category: Honduras, On location // Add Comment »