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The Independent
27-06-2025
- Health
- The Independent
Peru's Amazon communities accuse the state of failing to stop mercury pollution from illegal mining
Indigenous and rural communities along the Nanay River in Peru's northern Amazon filed a complaint on Friday accusing the government of failing to stop illegal gold mining that is contaminating their water and food with toxic mercury. The complaint was submitted in the country's capital, Lima, to the Secretariat General of the Andean Community, a regional trade bloc that includes Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and Bolivia. The communities argue that Peru has violated a binding regional policy adopted in 2012 to combat illegal mining. A delegation of 10 leaders and residents from the Peruvian Amazon traveled to Lima for the complaint. 'Peru is not fulfilling its obligations, and that has allowed illegal mining to expand, threatening the lives and rights of Amazonian communities,' said César Ipenza, an environmental lawyer who brought the case forward on behalf of the communities. The Peruvian government did not immediately reply to a request for comment. Mercury levels are too high Mercury, widely used in gold extraction, is polluting fish — a dietary staple — and entering the food chain in areas surrounding the Nanay and Pintuyacu rivers. 'More than 80% of our population is contaminated with mercury in the blood," said Jhonny Huaymacari Yuyarima, who represents the Ikito Indigenous people and heads a local alliance of 33 communities in the Nanay basin. "The fish in our rivers and lakes are also poisoned.' Huaymacari described seeing children with developmental delays, residents with chronic joint pain, skin conditions and intense headaches — symptoms many now associate with prolonged mercury exposure. A recent study by the Center for Amazonian Scientific Innovation, or CINCIA, and the Frankfurt Zoological Society found dangerously high levels of mercury in hair samples taken from 273 residents across six river communities in the region. About 79% of participants had mercury levels above the World Health Organization safety limit of 2.2 milligrams per kilogram. Children up to age 4 had the highest average levels — nearly six times the recommended limit. Fish from the same area had elevated mercury concentrations, particularly in carnivorous species that are commonly eaten. 'Widespread exposure' 'These are not isolated cases. This is widespread exposure,' Ipenza said. 'And we're talking about people who depend on fish as their primary protein source, and on the Nanay River for drinking water — including the city of Iquitos.' Huaymacari says it hurts to think that after more than 20 years of fighting illegal mining, "the state still doesn't listen to us.' 'The mercury is in our bodies now. We'll have to live with this if the Peruvian state does nothing," he told The Associated Press, citing the example of Peru's southern region of Madre de Dios, long plagued by illegal mining. Researchers and environmental groups now warn that the sprawling expanse of Loreto — where Iquitos is the regional capital and the home of the Nanay — is becoming the new frontier. A 2023 report by the Monitoring of the Andean Amazon Project showed growing deforestation and mining activity creeping into Nanay headwaters, even in protected areas. The CINCIA study, one of the first to systematically assess mercury exposure in Loreto communities, found that while most fish samples did not exceed international safety limits, the amount and frequency of fish consumption meant even moderate levels of contamination are a serious risk. Loreto has the highest per capita fish consumption in Peru, with some families along the river eating fish two to three times daily. Beyond the toxic exposure, communities are also reporting serious social and security impacts, including the arrival of armed groups, illegal labor, and sexual exploitation at mining camps. Local leaders say environmental defenders have been threatened and communal governance structures weakened. 'Almost 80% of the people there are foreigners, and more than 60 (gold mining) dredges are operating in the area," said Huaymacari of the Ikito. In one of their communities, a Colombian flag was raised, he said. 'It no longer feels like Peru.' A call to action Local police and navy posts lack the staff, equipment, and logistical support to confront the spread of illegal mining, Huaymacari said. "They're trying, but they don't have the tools to fight this plague of illegal mining,' he said. The Andean Policy to Fight Illegal Mining obliges member states to coordinate regionally and curb organized criminal activities linked to illegal extraction. The complaint asks the regional body to formally declare Peru in violation and issue corrective recommendations. While the Andean Community cannot impose sanctions, its rulings are binding under regional law, and a formal declaration could pressure Peru to adopt corrective measures or face reputational and diplomatic consequences. Ipenza said it isn't just about Peru and that wider 'action needs to be taken." 'Mercury pollution and illegal gold cross borders — and the damage is not just environmental. It's deeply human,' he said. The communities behind the complaint say they are not seeking financial compensation, but urgent recognition of their rights, protection of their territories, and accountability from a state that, they say, has abandoned them. The Andean Community has yet to comment on the case, which could set a regional precedent for holding governments accountable for cross-border environmental harms. 'We, the 33 communities of this basin, are prepared to raise our voices together and say: enough is enough!" said Huaymacari. 'We call on the government to act urgently." ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
The Guardian
13-06-2025
- Science
- The Guardian
A map, a myth and a pre-Incan lagoon: the man who brought water back to a drought-ridden town
One day in 1983, while studying a hand-drawn map from 1792 of his home town in Ecuador, Galo Ramón, a historian, came across a dispute between a landowner and two local Indigenous communities, the Coyana and the Catacocha. The boundary conflict involved an ancient lagoon, depicted on the map. 'The drawing depicted a lagoon brimming with rainwater,' says Ramón. Ravines were depicted forming below the high-altitude lagoon, indicating that it supplied watersheds further down – contrary to the typical flow where a watershed feeds into the lagoon. Ramón had discovered a long-forgotten ancient water management system conceived by the Paltas, a pre-Incan civilisation that inhabited the semi-arid region more than 1,000 years ago. Ramón set out to recreate the Paltas' lagoon system and, 40 years on, the region has enjoyed an environmental regeneration, offering solutions for Ecuador – which regularly faces severe droughts – and other parts of the world struggling to address water scarcity with limited resources. Galo Ramón was born in Catacocha, southern Ecuador, in 1952, a time when access to water for drinking and irrigation was unreliable. As a young man, he moved to Quito for university and to pursue his career as a historian. Eventually, he directed his research towards the history of the Paltas canton in Catacocha's province of Loja. 'I was born in Paltas, where people have very little water. Although I don't live there any more, I was eager to contribute with my knowledge,' he says. When Ramón began his research in Catacocha, an urban area with a population of 8,000, people barely had half an hour of water a day. 'People here live in constant insecurity about the chances of rain,' says Ramón. The region has highly variable rainfall patterns due to its location at the convergence of two ocean currents – the Humboldt and South Equatorial. When the Humboldt current predominates, there is minimal rainfall, averaging about 300mm (12in) to 400mm a year. Approximately every seven years, when an El Niño occurs – warming sea surface temperatures – annual rainfall can rise to 4-5 metres. In years with consistent rainfall, most of it occurs in just one or two months, with about 70% falling in March and April. During this period, there are usually three to five intense tropical storms, when up to 850mm of rainfall can occur in the region – more than in many other parts of the country. But as the region has very steep, rocky and irregular soil with poor permeability, water rapidly runs off and waterways tend to dry out. From May to December, the region experiences no rain, strong winds and intense sunlight, which cause soil erosion and reduce moisture in the soil. Still, the Paltas people not only managed to survive but thrive in this environment. 'So I began a historical investigation into the Paltas, including a series of Indigenous myths that still survive,' says Ramón, 'as that, it seemed to me, could offer modern solutions to the problem of drought.' Ramón discovered that designs for the Pisaca lagoon were recorded in maps, wills, accounts of land disputes, property titles and interviews. He realised the Paltas had developed a system for sowing and harvesting water that involved collecting and infiltrating rainwater, groundwater and underground runoff (sowing) to recover it later when it reappeared in springs and wells downstream (harvesting). That system enabled the Paltas to regulate water flows and store water in aquifers for domestic use and irrigation during periods of drought. 'The springs tend to increase significantly during the rainy months and then dry out by August due to poor soil permeability. Without the Paltas' system, water runoff is rapid, so you don't have a permanent source to feed the spring,' Ramón says. The main element of this system is the artificial lentic – or still water – wetland (cocha in Quechua) created at high altitudes to collect rainwater during the rainy months. The Paltas built these lagoons on fractured rocky terrain – the permeability of the pond bottoms allowed for slow water infiltration and aquifers to recharge. 'Then they planted hydrophilic plants inside the lagoon, which developed roots that helped retain the water, slowing infiltration so that the lagoon could last all year,' says Ramón. As hydrophilic plants cover the surface of the lagoon, they also prevent excessive water evaporation. The Paltas also observed zones where plants retained their leaves even in the driest months of the year due to higher levels of soil moisture. This made it possible to follow the direction of the subsurface flow in the shallow aquifer. 'The leaves are green because the aquifer is right below. So the Paltas observed that line of greenery in the dry months and were able to place the lagoons perfectly,' says Ramón. The Paltas also built small dams along rivers to control runoff during the rainy season, which infiltrated downstream, creating a wet microsystem that maintained soil moisture. They also cared for headwater forests that captured moisture from the mist and planted vegetation on slopes to reduce erosion and surface runoff. More than 50 species of trees, shrubs and groundcover plants emulating forest biodiversity enhanced the system, helping the Paltas retain water in their fields. Ramón and his colleagues noted the remains of those systems during fieldwork and interviewed local people, collecting stories and traditions. That was when Ramón deciphered the meaning of an Indigenous myth, that of 'touro Cango' (Cango the bull), he had heard as a child. 'The myth said that the bull lived in Catacocha while there were lakes, as he liked the grass that only grew in them. If there were no grass, he would not eat,' says Ramón. 'This means that when the lakes disappeared, the bull disappeared too.' The grasses that Cango the bull ate were hydrophilic plants essential to the wetland. 'Little by little, the ancient water-management system described in myths, documents, petroglyphs and stone carvings was aligned as a coherent whole,' says Ramón. Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion The Paltas' system faded from memory during the early 18th-century Spanish colonial period due to a decline in the Indigenous population from diseases such as smallpox and measles, landowners expanding their properties and the Catholic church draining lakes linked to pre-Christian rituals. The land was eventually given over to cattle and sugar cane. Even gardens were abandoned because of a lack of water, which increased food insecurity. Pisaca lagoon was the last to dry out, less than a century ago. As a result of the disappearance of the Paltas' lagoon system, the Catacocha aquifers and springs became depleted, and water was available for only half an hour a day by 2001. In 2005, Ramón, who by then was the leader of Comunidec, a human rights foundation, decided to rebuild the Paltas' lagoon system. Estefanía Maldonado, a constitutional rights lawyer who became involved with the foundation from the outset, says their goal at that stage was to empower peasant communities and civil society. Vilma Collaguazo, 44, who lives in Catacocha, began attending project meetings and workshops early on. She remembers that when she first heard of the plan, she didn't believe it would work. 'We had no idea how the lagoons were going to fill up, given that they were so big,' she says. Comunidec secured resources, and the project began with the restoration of the lagoon on the eastern slopes of Pisaca mountain between 2005 and 2008. It is now the largest, with a storage capacity of 78,420 cubic metres. 'By the end of 2005, there were some hefty rains and the lagoons were filled,' Collaguazo recalls. 'Since then, there was water almost year-round in the springs, and even new springs emerged. People had water to drink and for their crops, so we began to believe again.' In 2010, the Nature and Culture International Foundation and bought 406 hectares (1,000 acres) of land around Pisaca, supported by Comunidec, to create a reserve, remove cattle and use the land to maintain the water system permanently. By 2013, 28 lagoons had been built, as well as other elements of the water management system, such as tajamares (small dams or weirs) and water reservoirs, that had been part of the landscape more than 1,000 years ago. Since then, local people have reforested the area with native plants that reduce water evaporation, conserve moisture and protect the slopes. The project has increased Catacocha's water availability from one to 10 hours daily and enhanced food security through community gardens, resulting in the creation of 250 lagoons and tajamares. Antonio Díaz, who has been involved with the project since 2005, has reaped the benefits. 'I live not far from the Pisaca lagoon and have plenty of water for my little garden and my animals,' he says. 'It is truly a good thing.' Despite its success in reducing water scarcity and food insecurity, successive governments in Ecuador have not been persuaded to invest in rebuilding the systems. 'Perhaps politicians don't see that it is an investment that will yield immediate returns,' Ramón says. 'This year it rained little, so the hydroelectric plants lack water. When it rains, there is no runoff management. Ancient techniques allow you to do just that and could be a solution for all of Ecuador.' Collaguazo believes that Catacocha demonstrates how water scarcity can be addressed with positive environmental outcomes and without significant investment. 'Water is a constitutional right for all. Yet, how do you provide it to a rural community that may be in debt and lack the cashflow to carry out projects?' she asks. 'We don't necessarily need monumental projects to have water. We can also do it by recovering ancestral knowledge.'
The Guardian
12-06-2025
- Climate
- The Guardian
‘When the river swells, it forces them to run backwards': rising waters push Colombia's farmers into hunger and despair
Riosucio was established between rivers and swamps. For most of the year, the people of this Colombian municipality live above water and have developed ways to manage the fluctuating river levels. A network of makeshift wooden boards connects the houses in the town, allowing people to move between them. Despite the resilience of these communities, their increasingly harsh environment is beginning to overcome all the methods and systems designed to tame it, causing crop destruction, hunger and deepening poverty. A recent study by the National Administrative Department of Statistics (Dane) and the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) shows that food insecurity increased in Colombia's rural areas in 2024, despite an overall decrease of 0.6%. Chocó, where Riosucio is situated, experienced the largest increase, from 18.9% in 2023 to 36.3% in 2024. 'Salaquí is the main food pantry of Riosucio, but it is now dying,' says Benjamin Palacios, 76, a subsistence farmer and community leader. 'When the river swells, it forces them to run backwards, surrounding them and damaging their land and plantations.' The Salaquí area in Riosucio comprises 12 Afrodescendant and Indigenous communities, all situated along the banks of the Salaquí River and its tributaries. According to Dane, nearly 40,000 of Riosucio's 53,000 people live in rural areas, and about 46,000 are Afrodescendant – 71% of the population suffers from multidimensional poverty. The crisis further intensified last year when the Chocó region was hit by severe flooding. Many communities are now experiencing food insecurity, as people in the Salaquí River basin rely heavily on agriculture. They primarily plant plantain and cassava, both of which are vulnerable to flooding. Although cocoa plantations were also common, they have disappeared due to extreme weather conditions. 'There are times when we only eat once a day or eat the plantain on its own,' says Berta Lozano, a farmer in the Salaquí basin who lives in Riosucio with her nine children. Since the floods, farmers have been forced to travel long distances from their homes, raising costs and lowering income, as transport is mainly by boat and petrol is expensive. Poor road conditions are yet another obstacle. It is common to see trucks that have become stuck or have overturned while transporting food. 'In November, I lost my plantain production completely. Every time a neighbour told me they had nothing to eat, I'd give them from here. Now, everything is gone,' says Aparicio Vásquez, who had half a hectare with different crops by the side of the river. Communities attribute changes in weather patterns to the climate crisis and say that producing food has become much more challenging. 'Before, the rainy season would begin in April and continue until November. Then it dried up, and we were able to harvest the crop. Now, everything is messed up, and we can't figure out when is the right time to plant our crops,' he says. As a result of the food crisis, many residents have left. Vásquez decided to stay. 'Here we are subsisting, but if we are forced to leave, it would be harder,' he says. 'Where would we go? What would we live from?' As well as the climate issues, the region has also been severely affected by Colombia's armed conflict, increasing displacements. The Gaitanist Self-Defence Forces of Colombia (AGC) control local movements in the area, tagging wooden houses with 'AGC' to announce their territorial dominance. The Guardian was granted access to the communities of Regadero and Coco Arenal but was prohibited from visiting a third. Both communities are affected by logs and sediment blocking the Salaquí River and its tributaries, which hinders the transportation of people and goods, occasionally leading to crop losses. Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion 'Here, a 20-metre pole was not enough to reach the ground. Now, the river ranges in depth from 1 to 1.2 metres,' says Jesus Chalá, a representative of the community of Regadero who owned 23 hectares (57 acres) of plantain but has now lost everything. He says that among the 268 families that once lived in Regadero, only a handful remain. 'In 2020, people started leaving. We are rebuilding to return, but it is not easy,' says Chalá, while walking over the remains of his neighbours' houses. Mining also exacerbates food insecurity by contaminating water and land. Tests carried out by the University of Córdoba on people in the Atrato River basin revealed that 90% had unsafe mercury levels. While mercury contamination is devastating for fish, river sedimentation affects their reproduction, reducing fish populations – another factor contributing to food insecurity. 'When I began fishing at 16, with a 150-metre trammel net, I used to catch about 2,550 fish. Today, with a 1,000-metre trammel, you'd be lucky to catch 150 fish. There are even fishing trips that end with zero catch,' says Daniel Palacios Mosquera, legal representative of the artisanal fishers association, Asopescar. With food crops and fish becoming scarcer, prices have risen, further hurting those who have little. 'Fish should be abundant, but they're difficult to find, and the few we find are very expensive because they're scarce,' says Evangelina Murillo, who works with the Association of Community Councils and Ethnic-Territorial Organisations of the Lower Atrato, an environmental group. Last November, Colombia's president, Gustavo Petro, declared a state of emergency for 12 months due to extreme weather conditions in Chocó, La Guajira and Bogotá, aiming to mitigate the effects of floods and droughts. His government has also implemented the 'zero hunger' programme. Despite that, the recent Dane and FAO reports indicate that these policies were insufficient to prevent food insecurity in the Chocó region. People in Riosucio believe the government programmes are misguided as they have not yet addressed the river issue. 'The only thing that guarantees us a livelihood is our land,' says Juan Bautista, leader of the Coco Arenal community. 'Hunger does not wait.'
Japan Times
13-05-2025
- Health
- Japan Times
Scientists in Mexico develop tortilla for people with no fridge
Peering through a microscope, food scientist Raquel Gomez studies microorganisms that add nutrients and preserve tortillas for several weeks without refrigerators — a luxury in impoverished Mexican communities. The humble tortilla is a Mexican staple, consumed in tacos and other dishes by millions every day, from the Latin American nation's arid northern deserts to its tropical southern jungle. Most Mexicans buy fresh corn tortillas from small neighborhood shops. The wheat flour version developed by Gomez and her team contains probiotics — live microorganisms found in yogurt and other fermented foods. As well as the nutritional benefits, the fermented ingredients mean the tortilla can be kept for up to a month without refrigeration, much longer than a homemade one, according to its creators. It was developed "with the most vulnerable people in mind," Gomez, a professor at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), said in her laboratory. Nearly 14% of children under five suffer from chronic malnutrition in Mexico, according to official figures. In Indigenous communities, the figure is around 27%. Fridges unaffordable The tortilla developed by Gomez is not yet commercially available, but it could benefit people like Teresa Sanchez. The 46-year-old housewife smokes meat using a wood-burning stove in her house with wooden walls and a metal roof. Dr. Raquel Gomez prepares tortillas at the Industrial Microbiology laboratory of the National Autonomous University of Mexico in Mexico City. | AFP-Jiji Like most of her neighbors in the town of Oxchuc, in the southern state of Chiapas, Sanchez has no refrigerator, so she uses the methods handed down by her Indigenous Tzeltal ancestors. "My mother taught me and grandparents always do it this way," she said. "Where are you going to get a refrigerator if there's no money?" Less than two-thirds of people in Chiapas, a poverty-plagued region with a large Indigenous population, have a refrigerator — the lowest among Mexico's 32 states. The average maximum temperature in Chiapas rose from 30.1 to 32 degrees Celsius between 2014 and 2024, according to official estimates. Half of its territory is considered vulnerable to climate change. While Oxchuc is located in a mountainous, temperate area, the lack of refrigerators forces its inhabitants to rely on traditional food preservation methods. "We think about what we're going to eat and how many of us there are. We boil it, and if there's some left over, we boil it again," Sanchez said. Sometimes meat is salted and left to dry under the sun. Tortillas are stored in containers made from tree bark. For that reason, Sanchez only shops for the bare necessities, although her budget is limited anyway. "I don't have that much money to buy things," she said. No preservatives Gomez and her team use prebiotics — which are mainly found in high-fiber foods — to feed probiotic cultures and produce compounds beneficial to health, she said. Microorganisms of a probiotic are seen under a microscope at the Industrial Microbiology laboratory of the National Autonomous University of Mexico in Mexico City. | AFP-Jiji Thanks to the fermented ingredients, no artificial preservatives are needed in the laboratory developed tortilla, Gomez said. That is another benefit because such additives have potentially toxic effects, said Guillermo Arteaga, a researcher at the University of Sonora. One of the most commonly used additives in processed wheat flour tortillas is calcium propionate, which is considered harmful to the colon's microbiota, Arteaga said. Although her tortilla is made from wheat flour — a type eaten mainly in northern Mexico — Gomez does not rule out using the same method for corn tortillas, which are preferred by many Mexicans but can go bad quickly in high temperatures. The researchers patented their tortilla in 2023. UNAM signed a contract with a company to market the food, but the agreement fell through. Gomez, who won an award in December from the Mexican Institute of Industrial Property, still hopes to find partners to distribute her tortillas. She is confident that even though they were developed in a laboratory, consumers will still want to eat them.
