The resist of the indigenous peoples – AMAZONIA

El pueblo kichwa de Sarayacu se ubica en la Amazonia ecuatoriana – frontera con el Perú. Es una comunidad que ha sabido resistirse legal y culturalmente a las terribles situaciones vividas frente a empresas petroleras que continuan trabajando no solo en el lado ecuatoriano, también en el lado peruano.

En el Perú, los pueblos indígenas del Napo, cuando vieron el video completo se sintieron identificados con la misma problemática y dialogan de las consecuencias que vivirán dentro de poco cuando la extracción petrolera comience a vislumbrar mayores dificultades, de aquellas que ya ha encontrado hasta hoy.

LOOK THIS VIDEO HERE !!!

“Sarayacu resist the assault of the petrolleum industry”

 ¿Y EN EL NAPO PERUANO ?

Quiero atreverme a compartir parte de un estudio realizado  por MARCO A. HUACO PALOMINO, acerca de una CONSULTORÍA PARA ESTUDIO SOBRE VULNERABILIDAD DE LOS DERECHOS INDIGENAS EN EL NAPO – en el contexto del Proyecto de “Mitigación de conflictos y Desarrollo de la Amazonia” – realizado por la CEAS, el 16 de diciembre del 2013

con fondo el buque

AQUÍ SOLO UNA PEQUEÑA PARTE DEL ESTUDIO QUE NOS PUEDE AYUDAR A COMPRENDER LA DIMENSIÓN DEL PROBLEMA PRESENTADO:

1.      Vulnerabilidad de derechos indígenas en el Napo: actividades petroleras

 A diferencia de las dos actividades extractivas arriba estudiadas, la minera y maderera ilegales, la actividad hidrocarburífera de las empresas Repsol y Perenco han sido autorizadas por el Estado siguiendo la normatividad legal del sector Energía y Minas pero en directa contraposición a los derechos de los pueblos indígenas que son de rango jurídico superior, esto es, constitucional.

La presencia de estas empresas, y principalmente de Perenco en relación a las comunidades del Medio Napo, ya registra afectaciones a los derechos Kichwas a pesar de que la fase de explotación aún no había comenzado en el momento en que se levantaron las entrevistas que a continuación se citan. Esto es una prueba fehaciente de que la licencia del lote así como la aprobación del Estudio de Impacto Ambiental de la fase exploratoria debieron haber sido consultadas previamente a las comunidades que serían afectadas directamente.

4.1. Documentación y testimonios

Los apus entrevistados denuncian hechos graves que deberían ser investigados y sancionados, además de prevenidos:

“FECONAMNCUA trabaja con 40 comunidades, antes habían comunidades que participaban de nuestra federación pero no enviaron ni carta para dejar de participar. Vino un representante de relaciones comunitarias de PERENCO para conversar una vez. Pero el Estado no ha venido. Normalmente sería que venga primero el Estado y luego las empresas pero no es así.

“Se ha formado una nueva federación que trabaja con la empresa con 04 comunidades que antes eran de nuestra organización. Ni dan la cara, antes venían pero ahora tienen su lancha propia, deslizador que alquilan a la empresa, tienen acuerdos económicas con la empresa. Pero Perenco solo apoya a las comunidades que ellos dicen son de “influencia directa”. Pero cuando ocurre un derrame, no sólo van a sufrir ellos sino todos los de la cuenca.

“La consulta previa debe ser a todas las comunidades, no solo a la federación, pues cuando los quieran mover a esa comunidad va a saber por qué la están moviendo.”

“Los TRANSTUR (de Perenco) que vienen a una inmensa velocidad con 40, 70 pasajeros y motores tremendos que levantan unas olas tremendas. Y el Napo no está acostumbrado a navegar en botes sino a transportarse en canoas de 6 a 7 personas y andan llenitas, ¡cuántos botes se han hundido justamente por eso!. El año pasado, el 17 de julio de 2012, ha sucedido inclusive un accidente a 200 metros de la comunidad de San José. Un señor estaba cruzando en la noche y se chocó contra una barcaza que no tenía luz, de noche y pasaba sin luz!, y murió una niña de cuatro años. Escaparon todos pero quedó la niña, solo el bote recuperaron. En Curaray también pasó otro caso que por salvar a su hijo, el bote se volteó y los tapó y murieron dos. El Curaray es un río más reducido y las olas por tanto causan más impactos. Tradicionalmente el naporuna no está acostumbrado a eso.”

“Yo mismo he visto al buque tópico, del Estado, yo bajaba para mi casa y miraba que botaban inmensos paquetes, de bolsas negras, rosadas, y el mismo buque del Estado estaba botando desechos ¡al río!., y justo me olvidé mi cámara, botaban cebollas podridas, cáscaras, y muchas cosas, el mismo buque del Estado que está para proteger…como nadie ve allí, ellos botaban. Yo mismo lo vi”.

Falta mucho socializar el cuidado del medio ambiente. El Estado no reconoce a los monitores ambientales indígenas. Yo mismo hablé con Perenco para que apoyen el monitoreo pero no querían.

“Los impactos de la actividad de las empresas. Con el movimiento de estas olas se va derrumbando la tierra de las orillas y el agua está más turbia, cambia de cauce el agua, cambia de línea, el agua baja más turbia. Yo estaba aquí en los noventa, cuando todavía no entraban las empresas, y el agua era más cristalina, el zúngaro estaba más arriba y bajaba, pero ahora ya no, todo es más movimiento, todo está removido. Niños que vienen al secundario de la parte de enfrente del río ya no van a venir a la escuela en canoa por temor a las olas, han cambiado su hora para venir y su ruta, es peligroso para ellos.” Sr. Richard Rubio, Presidente FECONAMNCUA

La lotta contro la povertà

di Roberto Carrasco, OMI

VORREI CONDIVIDERE CON VOI UNA SITUAZIONE CHE HO VISUTO NELLA AMAZONIA PERUVIANA. QUESTA FORMA PARTE DELLA VITA MISSIONARIA TRA I POPOLI INDIGENI.

SCRIVEVA P. JUAN MARCOS:

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Niños napurunas navegan cada día por el río para llegar a la escuela – Comunidad Kichwa Loroyacu – 2013

Ogni volta che ascolto i mishus (meticci), che vengono con i loro piani e teorie per il terzo mondo mi entra una specie di indignazione. La selva diventa brodo di coltora per ogni tipo di teorie, economiche, politiche e sociali… Caritas ha un accordo con il governo per lavorare in zone di estrema povertà o, quello che è per loro è lo stesso, le zone indigene. Arrivano ecologisti, ambientalisti, sociologi, educatori, di CARE, Caritas, UNICEF, da ogni lato, ad imporre i loro modelli e “finire con la povertà ed il sottosviluppo”. Si formamo commissioni multi-settoriali ed appaiono, come funghi del bosco, le organizzazioni ed imprese che vengono “a dare lavoro a questi poverini”… È una vera invasione, quasi una guerra dichiarata contro tutto quello che sia nativo, indigeno e povertà…

Alcuni vogliono finire con la povertà insegnando agli indigeni metodi contraccettivi. Altri, dando loro un nuovo lavoro da schiavi, mentre le loro tasche si riempiono a costo delle imagini di bambini poveri, deboli, denutriti e con le pance strapiene di amebe. E quasi tutti si deliziano in piani, progetti, abbozzi, documenti, con cui dicono di salvare il mondo. Una di queste organizzazioni è stata tre anni lavorando qui e fece solamente diagnosi…

Io me domando di che  povertà parlano quei poveri di spirito… con che autorità parlano di povertà e la riferiscono al possesso di denaro, di beni! Con che autorità parlano di svilupo! Con che convinzione vedono negli indigeni il sottosviluppo e la misera!

Non li capisco. Ho visto la felicità in cui vivono i Runa (significa Uomo), li ho visti stufarsi con la minima sufficienza, ho visto i bambini sguazzare felici nelle acque del fiume e l’allegria del cacciatore quando arriva con la sua preda. Ho visto l’armonia e la complementarietà dell’uomo con la natura, la risata dei piccoli e l’allegria delle loro mammine quando li vedono dare i primi passi.

Per lotare contro la povertà e il sottosviluppo bisogna avere chiaro il loro significato… non sia che a furia di lottare contro la povertà sparisca tutta la ricchezza di queste terre…

Homo Naledi

di Roberto Carrasco, OMI

CHE GRANDE SCOPERTA?… CHE COSA SAI?

Il 11 settembre 2015 è stata resa pubblica la notizia dei resti di un nuovo esemplare del genere Homo, chiamato NALEDI che in lingua Sesotho significa “stella”, è stato trovato in una grotta, a 50 km  della città di Johannesburg, in Sud Africa. Il professore Lee Berger dell’Università di Witwatersrand, resposabile della investigazione ha detto che si tratta di oltre 1550 reperti ossei relativi ad almeno 15 individui di varie età.

homo Naledi

Dopo sei mesi della notizia, penso ancora, che questa scoperta dell’Homo Naledi ha aperto un nuovo scenario nella comprensione della storia evolutiva della nostra specie. Infatti, si tratterebbe di una nuova realtà, che potrebbe confermare che nell’Antropologia lo studio dell’evoluzione dell’uomo non ha seguito un percorso evolutivo lineare, per cui da una specie ne è nata una nuova. Cioè, l’Homo Naledi ci revela che tuttavia manca sapere, nella totalità della comprensione del genere Homo, che ciò è forse. l’inizio di un cambiamento nella interpretazione dell’Homo nella scienza, anche la Teologia.

Già la presenza di molti individui nella cavità indurrebbe a pensare a un trattamento dei defunti e nella comprensione della vita e morte.

Speriamo che questo studio approfondisce.

 

 

Rumble in the jungle

Could Peru’s uncontacted Amazonian tribes be wiped out by oil giants? Not if they don’t exist … Rory Carroll investigates

Saturday 4 July 2009

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jul/04/peru-amazon-rainforest-conservation

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Stand on the muddy riverbank at Copal Urco just before dawn and it is easy to see why the Amazon breeds legends. The vast river swishes past, almost invisible in the gloom. Insect and animal noises seep from the dense blackness of the forest. The day barely begun and already humid. As the sun rises the blackness recedes, revealing massive, tightly packed trees. Even when the light hardens it fails to penetrate far inside the jungle. The foliage is too thick, a wall sealing off an impenetrable realm.

Here is where fables begin. Anacondas the length of 10 men; ancient stone cities filled with treasure; spirits who answer a whistle; white tribes descended from conquistador shipwrecks. The stories have tantalised for centuries but the one that endures is that of uncontacted tribes – isolated communities of nomads who live deep in the forest much as their ancestors have done for millennia, cut off from the modern world.

To the village of Copal Urco, home to a few hundred indigenous Kichwa farmers and fishermen near Peru’s border with Ecuador, uncontacted tribes are no myth. They themselves were uncontacted once, until European missionaries and soldiers sailed up their river, and they say such groups still live deeper in their forest. Some are thought to have had brief contact with outsiders decades ago during the rubber boom but then, frightened or repulsed, retreated. They have mostly covered their tracks since, says Roger Yume, 38, the village apu, or chief. “We have seen the signs.” Footprints, tracks through foliage, occasional glimpses of fleeting figures – there is no doubt. “They exist. Our brothers exist.”

Not everyone agrees. The existence of uncontacted tribes in Brazil and Ecuador is accepted, but Peru’s government has ridiculed the notion of such communities in its part of the Amazon. President Alan Garcia says the “figure of the jungle native” is a ruse to prevent oil exploration. Daniel Saba, former head of the state oil company, is even more scornful. “It’s absurd to say there are uncontacted peoples when no one has seen them. So, who are these uncontacted tribes people are talking about?”

It is an urgent question. Peru, home to 70m hectares of Amazon, second in size only to Brazil, has parcelled up almost three-quarters of its rainforest for oil and gas projects. Of 64 exploration blocks, known as lots, all but eight have been created since 2004. “The Peruvian Amazon is now experiencing a huge wave of hydrocarbon exploration,” says Matt Finer, co-author of a study of oil and gas projects in the western Amazon by Duke University and Save America’s Forests.

Oil extraction is not subtle. It involves helicopters, barges, road clearance, drilling platforms, wells and pipelines. Technology is cleaner than before but still pollutes waterways and frightens game. And the workers still bring germs, which threaten tribes with no immunity to outsiders’ diseases. Flu and other ailments brought by conquistadors wiped out much of Latin America’s indigenous population, and more recent interlopers – loggers, missionaries, scientists and journalists – have wrought deadly consequences in isolated communities. After incursions by oil men into Nahua territory in the 1980s, more than half the tribe reportedly died. “If companies go in, it’s likely to destroy the Indians completely and then they really won’t exist,” says Stephen Corry of the advocacy group Survival International.

Even oil companies admit their presence would have serious implications for uncontacted tribes. The question is: are there any? If so, by law, the exploration should be halted or at least heavily circumscribed. That would impede Peru’s hopes of becoming a net oil exporter – a windfall that could go a long way in an impoverished nation of 28m. Social anthropologists say that would be a small price for preserving humanity’s rich mosaic.

The frontline of this existential battle is Lot 67. A swath of jungle in the Maranon basin in north-east Peru, it comprises the Paiche, Dorado and Pirana oilfields, which contain an estimated 300m barrels – a geological and commercial jackpot. An Anglo-French company, Perenco, holds exclusive rights. It plans to spend $2bn – the country’s biggest investment – drilling 100 wells from 10 platforms. The crude will be shipped and piped 600 miles to the Pacific coast. Extensive seismic testing has been conducted and installations built. Barges await the first barrels.

To settled indigenous communities such as Copal Urco, this spells death to their “hidden brothers”. They say there are three uncontacted tribes in Perenco’s area, the Pananujuri, Taromenane and Trashumancia. Peru’s indigenous umbrella group, Aidesep, estimates their joint population at 100. Stories about sightings are passed up and down the Napo river. Denis Nantip, 22, says his uncle encountered one group in 2004. “He was deep in the forest with a logger. They were bathing in the river and suddenly saw people staring at them. They had spears and leaves with string covering their genitals.” The two intruders were left unharmed but loggers never dared venture back to that part of the forest.

Perenco, echoing Peru’s government, dismisses these claims as rumour and misinformation by groups opposed to economic development. “This is similar to the Loch Ness monster. Much talk but never any evidence,” says Rodrigo Marquez, Perenco’s Latin American regional manager. “We have done very detailed studies to ascertain if there are uncontacted tribes because that would be a very serious matter. The evidence is nonexistent.”

A team of investigators – anthropologists, biologists, linguists, historians, archaeologists, forestry engineers – combed Lot 67. They looked for footprints, dwellings and spears. They looked for animal traps, paths, patches of cultivation. They asked the Arabella tribe, which has been in intermittent contact with the outside world since the 1940s, about recent sightings or evidence. They analysed Arabella speech patterns and oral histories for clues. Result: nothing. No compelling evidence, no compelling indications. The 137-page final report concludes that if there were uncontacted tribes, they were long gone, either dead or in Ecuador. The findings opened Lot 67 to an oil deal which the government declared to be in the national interest. “All these studies have shown there is no trace at all,” Marquez says.

Not everyone is convinced, however. Tracking uncontacted tribes, it turns out, is a detective story within a detective story.

P1020231Iquitos, reputedly the world’s largest town inaccessible by road, is a sultry, humid outgrowth of the rubber boom, a bustle of oil men, backpackers, missionaries, traders and prostitutes perched by the Amazon river. By the docks, on Avenida La Marina, there is an office stencilled with the word Daimi and a rainbow logo. It is a consultancy that carries out environmental impact assessments (EIAs) for oil companies, a mandatory requirement for government authorisation to explore and drill. They can make or break a company’s bid to drill, and shape the regulations under which they operate. Daimi, plucking scientists from different institutions, has done studies for eight companies besides Perenco, including Argentina’s Pluspetrol, Brazil’s Petrobras, Canada’s Hunt, Spain’s Repsol and the US’s Oxy.

Oil companies pay for EIAs and insist that the reports are independent and impartial. Within the NGO and academic community, there are some who have long claimed they are not. But there is nothing concrete, and it is difficult to investigate since even those with university tenure often rely on EIA commissions to supplement meagre salaries.

Virginia Montoya sits in her office, maps and books piled on her desk, and lets the question hang in the air. The silence stretches to a few seconds. She is a director of the Institution for Research on the Peruvian Amazon, a senior anthropologist and champion of indigenous women’s rights. She was also a consultant on Daimi’s report. Does she think there are uncontacted tribes in Lot 67? Montoya fidgets, then takes a decision. “Yes. Yes, I do.” She hesitates once more. “There is no doubt in my mind that there are uncontacted groups there.” She says she had documented evidence, especially pathways. “I was really upset when I saw the final report. It didn’t lie, the language was technically correct, but it did not reflect my view.”

On the other side of Iquitos, on a rutted road of colourfully painted houses, there is the same long pause before Teudulio Grandez answers the same question. An anthropology professor at the National University of the Peruvian Amazon, he was cited as a lead author in the Daimi report. A portrait of Che Guevara looks down from the wall as he wrestles with his answer. Finally, it comes out. “Yes. Certain nomadic groups are there. Our conclusion is that there are.” He exhales deeply.

And then, in another part of Iquitos, a third voice. Lino Noriega, a forestry engineer, participated in eight missions to Lot 67 to investigate the impact of seismic tests – small explosions that cleared strips of forest and probed the soil. (He has since left Daimi following a contractual dispute.) “They said there were no uncontacted groups. But there were footprints, signs of dwellings.”

There is no single smoking gun in the three testimonies. The allegations were put to Daimi, but they were unable to put forward anyone to respond. Perenco’s regional manager, Marquez, defends the EIA research. “These are just opinions. These scientists need to produce evidence. We have gone to tremendous effort to put these reports together in the most professional way. It’s easy to build conspiracy theories.”

EIAs are vetted by several government departments. “We are committed to environmental protection. We don’t want these reports to be wishy-washy,” says the foreign minister, Jose Antonio Garcia Belaunde. He promises to look into the Lot 67 allegations.

Critics say the environment ministry has little clout against more powerful departments driving the oil rush. Peru’s government is not impartial and does not encourage genuinely independent EIAs, says Jose Luis de la Bastida, a Peru oil specialist at the Washington-based World Resources Institute. Last year the energy minister and head of state oil company PetroPeru resigned amid a scandal over alleged kickbacks from a Norwegian oil company to the ruling party. They denied any wrongdoing. There is also unease over the revolving door between oil companies and government. “A lot of overlap, it’s an old boys’ network,” says Gregor MacLennan of advocacy group Amazon Watch.

Lima is, and feels, a long way from the Amazon. A sprawling coastal capital of eight million people ringed by slums, its downtown has Starbucks, shiny skyscrapers, smart government offices and some of South America’s best restaurants. Historically it has looked outwards to the Pacific ocean and seldom thought about the 300,000 dark-skinned “nativo” forest-dwellers, little more than 1% of the population. It has had even less reason to ponder uncontacted tribes. There was little dissent last year when President Garcia decreed laws carving up the Amazon for oil, gas, mining and biofuel projects.

The “nativos”, however, rose up. Scattered, impoverished and marginalised, they organised protests against what they said were land-grabbing polluters who poisoned their soil and rivers. They blocked pipelines, roads and waterways. The president denounced them as “ignorant” saboteurs and last month ordered security forces to lift the blockades. In the town of Bagua, mayhem erupted. Officially, 24 police and 11 protesters died. Indigenous groups say there were dozens if not hundreds of civilian casualties and that bodies were burned and dumped in rivers – claims the government denies.

Garcia, realising he had misjudged indigenous wrath and strength, revoked two of the most controversial decrees, 1090 and 1064, which would have opened the Amazon to biofuel plantations. Indigenous groups suspended the protests but oil and gas projects are still going ahead. “The future scenario remains terrifying. The Peruvian Amazon is still blanketed in concessions,” says Finer, co-author of the Duke study.

There are two views about what happens next. Brother Paul McAuley, a British Catholic lay missionary, teacher and pro-indigenous activist in Iquitos, believes a flame of resistance has been lit. He sees it in his civil association, Red Ambiental Loretana. Indigenous communities are organising, plotting their next move. “I think they’re going to win this.” The 61-year-old’s mild manner belies a combative streak which has earned him death threats and a “terrorist” label from pro-government media. Had he not already given it away, he would have returned his MBE (for services to education in Peru) in protest at what he sees as Britain’s complicity. He hopes the Amazon’s “spiritual force” will mobilise western public opinion against the oil companies. “More than its oil, what the west needs is the Amazon’s spiritual energy.”

The fatalistic view holds that it’ll take a miracle, divine or otherwise, to stop the drilling. Wells are being dug, pipelines laid, profits calculated. Oil companies and the Peruvian government are committed – especially to the great prize that is Lot 67. Jack MacCarthy, a US surgeon and Catholic missionary who has spent 23 years in the jungle, believes the die is cast. “If Perenco doesn’t drill, someone else will. I don’t think there’s any way to keep that oil in the ground. There are enough powerful and rich people in the world who want it. And they’ll get it, regardless of the cost.”

In which case, if there are uncontacted tribes in Lot 67, their fate may be to disappear – definitively – and join the legends of the Amazon.

See Rory Carroll and Marc de Jersey’s film about the Peruvian Amazon atguardian.co.uk/video