Introducing Hope: Luz Ángela Uriana
“We should not have to live in poverty beside such a rich mine.”
La Guajira is the land of the Wayuu, Colombia’s most populous Indigenous group. But since the 1970s it has also been home to Cerrejón, the largest open-cast coal mine in Latin America, and potentially the largest thermal coal mine in the world. Millions of tonnes of coal are mined in La Guajira, transported on trains to nearby ports, and shipped to European, North American and Asian power stations.
For decades local Wayuu, Afrodescendent, campesino, and other Indigenous communities have been resisting the mine’s encroachment on their land. Pollution from the mine is rife, affecting the health and livelihoods of residents.
Many communities also lack access to water. The average rural Guajiro citizen consumes a mere 0.7 litres of water each day; Cerrejón on the other hand, uses over 17 million litres of water each day, according to its own figures. To source its water, the mine has dried, dammed, or diverted entire bodies of water, at the expense of local populations.
The Wayuu community of Provincial is one of the closest to the mine. Located just hundreds of metres from the Patilla pit, it bears the immediate impacts of Cerrejón’s 24-hour operations: exposure to the sound of explosions, the endless hum of machines, and the constant seeping of coal dust.
One of Provincial’s esteemed citizens is Luz Angela Uriana Epiayú, an artist, a human rights activist, and the mother of Daniel, Mildred, Yelenis, David, Moisés, and Santiago. A skilled artisan, Luz Angela weaves mochilas (bags), cloth, keyrings and other embroidery.
Luz Angela didn’t see herself as a defender or campaigner, but after her son Moisés was born with severe respiratory problems, she began to seek justice.
“I started this struggle when I realized [Moisés] was sick…It was hard to speak up, to denounce, because I felt much smaller than I am. I was scared to stand up to such an enormous company like Cerrejón. But my son gave me the strength.”
In September 2015, Luz Angela took legal action to demand immediate protection of Moisés’ constitutional rights. She asked the judge of her local court to call on the EPS (Indigenous Association of Cauca) to provide Moisés with specialist medical attention and treatment, and also requested the closure of the Patilla block, the closest to Provincial, and responsible for 16% of the mine’s production.
“After I lodged my claim, company representatives came to visit me. They offered to cover the treatment of my son, they offered my husband a job, but on the condition that I drop the case.
If I’m honest, they arrived when we are in a very difficult economic situation. We didn’t have much money for food, for doctors, for medicines,
If I was ambitious and self-centred, I would have taken up their offer. I would have left Provincial. But then I thought to myself: they’ve broken agreements with so many communities, what says they’re going to respect an agreement with me? And I remembered that what I was doing was not only fighting for Moisés; but for all the Wayuu children who have been affected.”
In November 2015, a local judge upheld her claim, ordering national and regional authorities to implement all actions to reduce all levels of pollution by particulate material, and reduce emissions from the Cerrejón mine’s activities. The company appealed, as did Luz Angela, who continued to demand the closure of those pits closest to communities.
But amid appeals and stalled procedures there has been little progress. Doctors have recommended that Luz Angela leave Provincial with Moisés if she wants her son’s treatment to work. “Staying in that environment is comparable to him smoking ten daily cigarettes”, one doctor said.
The doctor’s advice encapsulates the hierarchy of rights that defines the operations of Cerrejón — who has the right to stay, the company or the communities? What comes first, a company’s ability to continue exploiting, or a child’s right to live healthily in the place of birth? Dora Lucy Arias, a lawyer from the José Alvear Restrepo Collective, noted that it’s “unacceptable that [Moises] has to leave behind his culture and his community because he has no guaranteed right to a healthy environment, or to a dignified health.”
In October 2016, Luz Angela left her country for the first time. She travelled to London to attend the annual general meeting of BHP Billiton, the largest mining company in the world, and one of the three owners of Cerrejón. London is the centre of the global mining industry. Four of the world’s five biggest mining houses, including the three companies involved in Cerrejón, put their primary stock listings on the London Stock Exchange.
At the AGM, Luz Angela had two opportunities to address BHP Billiton’s Chief Executive Andrew Mackenzie, together with the company’s board of directors. She stood firm, delivering her testimony, and when the words could not come, she left a testimony of tears.
But her concerns were mostly waved away. BHP Billiton’s CEO said he was given information that Moisés’ illness was due to viral or bacterial disease, not the company’s operations. Cerrejon maintain that the child’s illness could owe to other activities, such as agriculture, the burning of rubbish, wood-fired cooking, and sand mining.
“It was hard to see such a polished, such a “civilized” man speak in that way, act with that arrogance. He lives here [in the UK] He doesn’t live there [in La Guajira]. He doesn’t know the reality. All the doctors I’ve spoken to about Moisés say it’s the same thing — its environmental pollution. I’ve come from very far away to be here. I’ve left my sick child, I’ve left my other children, I’ve travelled across the world, all to make something up?”
“I left that AGM and I felt I had failed. I wasn’t convincing enough, I hadn’t brought enough proof or evidence. I felt bad to have travelled so far, to achieve so little. But then I was able to speak to my husband and to my family, and they told me that this is just one of many tests. They assured me that I’m a fighter, I’m a warrior. And I spoke to Moisés, who told me: Mum I love you, Mum I miss you. And there was no better way to recharge my battery. “
“This is not a defeat or a triumph. It’s another step. I want to fight for a decent treatment for my son, and for all the children…I want to show the companies that I’m right, that I’m not lying, that I’m living this in the flesh. But the only way we will be strong is by unifying, by coming together. We should not have to live in poverty beside such a rich mine, where those who work there have everything. We shouldn’t have to be subjected to impacts, 24 hours a day. We deserve the same access mining executives have to clean water and healthcare. Our rights are ignored, but we cannot forget that Cerrejón arrived after we arrived.”
“This struggle is hard because the mines take advantage of poor, weak communities. So many of the people in La Guajira find their only hope in Cerrejón: they hope they will get a job there, or that they will maybe receive a scholarship from the company’s foundation. But there are so few scholarships or jobs that this is an empty hope.”
“The road is hard and long. It is not easy to denounce those who are powerful. In La Guajira, everything that moves is related to Cerrejón. My hope is to keep fighting for my son. He’s three years old, and I want him to grow. My goal is not to stop, to keep struggling for him, to keep traveling, to keep challenging these coal and multinational companies. It’s not easy, but if you have a dream, and you put energy behind that dream, then there’s no stopping you.”
