Witnessing the Amazon’s “Chernobyl” with indigenous allies
Donald Moncayo (left), coordinator for UDAPT, and Penti Baihua (right), leader of Ome Yasuní and the Waorani community of Bameno, paint their hands in the petroleum which coats the rainforest - a legacy of contamination left behind by US fossil fuel companies in the Ecuadorian Amazon Rainforest. Photo by Javier Baihua (ARCC Media Fellow)
“I was born not far from where Texaco struck the first oil wells here in Lago Agrio”
Donald’s life story is intertwined inexorably with that of Nueva Loja, a boom town more commonly known as Lago Agrio (named after “Sour Lake”, the East Texas town where Texaco was established). The region was Texaco’s (now Chevron) landing pad for oil extraction in the Ecuadorian Amazon - the onset of environmental catastrophe.
As we bounce along gravel roads, Donald shows our team the legacy left behind by United States oil companies. We stop at a random cattle pasture - a site that qualifies as “cleaned” by oil companies. As Donald digs his shovel into the ground, the distinct smell and color of petroleum bubbles up through the soil. “Clean” is nothing but an illusion here.
This trip, facilitated by ARCC and in partner with UDAPT and Ome Yasuní, was a chance for our indigenous allies to witness the stark threats that oil exploration poses to communities in the Amazon. Penti, leader of the Waorani community of Bameno, and his son, Javier Baihua, peered down into the petroleum-filled hole. The questions quickly arose: What happens to plants that grow here? The wildlife? The people?
Penti (right), leader of the Waorani community of Bameno, and his son Javier (left), an ARCC media fellow, discuss the stark realities of oil exploration and its profound threat to Waorani livelihood and biodiversity. Photo by Joseph See (ARCC Media Specialist)
Here in the Sucumbíos province of Ecuador, the damages of oil contamination are immense. The region suffers from increased cancer rates as a result. Women are disproportionately affected, as their regular tasks of bathing and washing put them in greater contact with contaminated water. While both Penti and Javier have been steadfast in protecting their traditional territory against oil extraction, this trip was their first opportunity to witness the true reality of working with oil.
As we continued our week-long mission, we visited multiple contamination sites: deep, dark pools of oil left behind by Texaco, sitting in the middle of the jungle. Donald handed out gloves, and we each dipped our hands into the toxic black tar. Penti holds his hands up and begins speaking animatedly in Waorani language while Javier films. I asked him, what did you say? Penti says, “I told people in Bameno that this is why we need to fight; this is what the oil companies will do to our land and our water otherwise”. I catch an unmistakable look of pride on Penti’s face.
“I told people in Bameno that this is why we need to fight; this is what the oil companies will do to our land and our water otherwise”
Thick, black petroleum coats the rainforest understory in Lago Agrio, Ecuador. What was once biodiverse and thriving now serves as a toxic wasteland. Photo by Javier Baihua (ARCC Media Fellow)
Nearby, workers from a local community have been hired by oil companies to clean up a recent oil spill. As we look out into the jungle, we see thick coats of black petroleum coating the understory vegetation. Oil absorbent materials are placed in the channels to keep the heavy crude from flowing into the rivers, but there is no way to contain it all. A dead frog floats in a pool of oily water. The workers are working 12 hour shifts, and their faces are stained with oil. They have waders, but no gloves or masks. They say it will take a year to clean up the mess, which they describe in the way one might talk about bad weather. Sadly, even after a year, “clean” will still be an illusion.
Not far down the road, children climb trees, harvest fruit, and swim in a stream. “Is the water clean? Should they be playing there” I ask out loud. “They are children. Children will always go in the water” says Penti.
A dead frog floats in a pool of oil while locally hired workers attempt to “clean” the recent spill nearby. Photo by Javier Baihua (ARCC Media Fellow)
Donald tells us that when he visited his family in Santo Domingo (near the Ecuadorian coast) he witnessed clear streams for the first time, free of oil. Where Donald grew up, an average of two oil spills occurred per week. Legend has it that the first barrel of oil was paraded and celebrated through the streets of Quito - an economic victory. “That is a lie” says Donald, “Where did the first barrels of oil go? Right here, into the jungle. The first barrels of oil were sprayed into the fields around the wells, and then washed into the river. They do this to test the well pressure. Oil was the beginning of nothing less than a genocide.” Mass mortality of fish, turtles, and other aquatic life ensued, but people didn’t realize this was due to the river being poisoned. In fact, most people didn’t understand the true danger of oil. As a result, people ate the dead animals, and were themselves poisoned. The pitfalls of an extraction-based society followed; land theft, exploitation, and injustice. Over 500,000 hectares of land were seriously contaminated, and today, practically all sources of water in the region are contaminated with hydrocarbons.
Although oil companies might sell the idea of development and prosperity, we visited another site that clearly showed how little of such benefits go to local communities. Donald tells us to follow him into the forest beside a road. We cross a stream. Donald and I carefully wade across in rubber boots, while Penti and Javier march across a fallen vine. All seems normal, until we begin to hear a deep, continuous low roaring sound. As we emerge into a clearing, two white smokestacks pierce the sky. Flames viciously spew out, climbing high above the forest canopy. Vultures circle overhead; as their silhouettes pass behind the flare, the jungle air ripples like a barbecue grill on a hot summer day. I walk closer to get a better look, but the immense heat against my face is too strong. Oil droplets rain against my face. It is truly a scene you’d expect out of Mad Max.
When you extract oil, you also extract water and “natural gas”. Although infrastructure could be built to make utilize this gas for energy, the simplest way to get rid of it (and prevent dangerous explosions in the oil pipelines) is to burn off the gas as a waste product. Millions of charred insects coat the ground around the flares; insects that would otherwise be fulfilling various important functions in the surrounding forest. The gas flare perimeter is peppered with rainbow drops of oil, glaring against the red jungle soils. The hot air fills our lungs and burns our throats. Before long we are all feeling faint.
“Each year, Ecuador imports millions of dollars’ worth of natural gas”, says Donald. “Yet, every year, approximately 447 gas flares burn away more gas than would be needed to supply Ecuador’s domestic energy needs”. Instead, local citizens, mostly indigenous, are exposed to dangerous pollution, and Ecuador faces more rolling blackouts and power outages than ever.
As we end our journey and return to Coca, our team is filled with sadness and anger, but also pride and inspiration. The fight against oil is stronger now more than ever, and there is still so much to fight for. Penti and Javier will return to their Baihuaeri territory in southern Yasuní, which encompasses 3,000 square miles (758,051 hectares) of ancestral Waorani lands. They will share the message: our culture, our biodiversity, and our lives are not worth the price of oil.
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Javier (left), Penti (middle-right), and their family stand proudly in their home community of Bameno. Together, they work tirelessly to defend their ancestral territory in southern Yasuní. Photo by Naia Andrade Hoeneisen (ARCC Vice President)
