El Cupolog

Congreso

Monserrat, Buenos Aires - © Diego Cupolo 2012

Toy Soldiers

La Paz, Bolivia - © Diego Cupolo 2012

Conga Con Fusiles: An interview with Dr. César Aliaga Díaz

By Alice Bernard and Diego Cupolo

Published April 4, 2012 on Upsidedownworld.org.

Dr. César Aliaga Díaz is the regional vice president of Cajamarca, Peru. His government has taken a central role in the fight to stop the proposed Conga Gold Mine, a $4.8 billion project owned by Denver-based Newmont Mining Corp. The mine will be located in Cajamarca’s Andean highlands, where five major headwaters originate and supply the region’s drinking water. If passed, Conga is set to become the biggest investment in Peru’s history and second-largest gold mine in the world. The following interview was conducted on Monday, March 19, 2012.

It’s been almost twenty years since Newmont opened its Yanacocha gold mine just outside Cajamarca and started the region’s mining boom. You studied the industry’s impacts on local communities in your book, A Tajo Abierto. What types of changes has gold mining brought to Cajamarca?

Well, the region’s transformation has created many problems. Before the mines, we were an agriculture-based, pre-capitalist society. You could say we were still living in the medieval era. People traded livestock and milk. Our economy was simple. 

Then Newmont came and we changed directly into a modern capitalist production center. We grew very quickly. We got new social classes. Land prices went up ridiculously. Some properties here cost more than properties in Lima.

The mines attracted people from all over Peru. Thousands came looking for jobs, but not all of them got one. This ended up bringing more crime to our city along with drugs and prostitution. We didn’t have homeless people before the mines. This was new for us. They’re mostly farmers that sold their land to the mine, spent all the money and then realized they had nothing left.

How did Cajamarca react to the growth?

The city wasn’t prepared for such a rapid change. Public services collapsed. Hospitals, schools. We simply didn’t have enough resources to handle all the new residents. To this day, the demand is so high we still have neighborhoods that get water for only two hours a day.

As a result, there was an increase in private services and the gap between the rich and the poor widened. We now have the pre-capitalist farmers that have always been here, living side by side with rich mining families from other parts of Peru and the world. The contrast is striking. 

Of course, the mines brought a lot of money to the region. We now have a nice central plaza and a new shopping mall, but the majority of Cajamarcans did not see any improvements in their lives.

The Conga project will be an expansion of the Yanacocha gold mine. We noticed the phrase “Conga No Va” [Conga won’t go] spray-painted on almost every street in this city. Can you explain why locals are against the project?

People are against Conga because it’s more of the same. Over the last twenty years, they’ve watched foreigners come in and get rich off their land without getting a share of the profits. They’ve watched their mountains get turned inside out. They’ve watched the trout disappear from their rivers and, in some cases, they’ve watched their rivers simply disappear.

Many Cajamarcans are tired of the mines. They see Newmont as a bad neighbor that lies and steals their resources.They’re set on stopping Conga. It’s a very exciting time for them. This is the first time these people have been politically active in their lives. We’ve never had a movement like this in the history of the region and it’s been interesting to watch them get organized and go out on the streets.

When did Cajamarca’s regional government take its position against the Conga gold mine project?

The regional government started directly participating in the debate in the fall of 2011 when our regional president Gregorio Santos backed the general strike on October 9th, but we’ve been critical of the development of the project long before that. 

In June of 2011, we visited the lagoons on the Conga site to do a general overview of the land and found its ecosystems to be too fragile for mining activities. Shortly after, we reviewed the environmental impact study (EIS) that approved the project in 2010 and found serious deficiencies. As the protests became more and more frequent, we felt obligated to respond to our resident’s concerns and represent their voice so we put together the 036 regional ordinance.

Can you explain the purpose of the 036 regional ordinance?

Basically, it’s an ordinance which declares the Conga project unviable and protects the land and water sources on the proposed mining site. The ordinance has yet to go into effect because its constitutionality is currently being challenged in the judicial court. The national government has accused us of going too far with 036, but as a lawyer, I’m confident we are not abusing our functions and I hope this ordinance will help put an end to Conga.

At the moment, the Conga project has been suspended while three foreign consultants review the EIS. They have 40 days to conduct their research. In a few weeks, their findings will be announced and will determine the future of the project. What is your opinion on the matter?

Originally, the idea was brought in to quell regional demonstrations. Here in Cajamarca, few people take this review seriously. The results are predictable, the government is paying these foreign consultants $250,000 each. They’re simply going to say whatever pleases their bosses. 

In reality, the EIS did not have any methodology or serious scientific approach. It’s so bad that we simply need to throw it out and make a new one. Reviewing this ten-thousand page study in forty days cannot possibly work. What we need is a new EIS, not a rushed review of the old one. 

Can you explain what was wrong with the original EIS?

It’s all a big joke! Newmont submitted the studies and they were approved within months. Usually, an EIS takes at least two years to process. You normally need nine hydrogeology studies before starting an operation like this. Newmont said they didn’t have enough time to fill that obligation.

On top of it all, the EIS was approved by Felipe Ramirez del Pino, a former manager for Newmont that now works in the Ministry of Energy and Mines. The revolving door concept is very popular in our government and, as a result, we’re left with an EIS that gives us absolutely zero knowledge of the mine’s future impacts on the quantity and quality of the water in the region.

Yet none of this seems to matter. The national government has made its decision. They say Conga goes and that’s it. They don’t want to listen to our complaints.

Is it possible to reach a compromise between Newmont, the regional government and the national government that would allow mining on the Conga site under different conditions?

No. For us, Conga should not happen at all. The land they want to exploit is extremely fragile. It’s full of lakes, marshes, and high altitude wetlands where all our rivers and water sources originate. If they open a mine in the area, they will have to remove a large amount of subterranean water and the mining process will inevitably contaminate the bodies of water that remain – meaning, our fresh water supply.
I see three scenarios for the future. The first is the national government will keep showing little interest in our protests and concerns and will allow Conga to move forward. If this happens, I see a big resistance building up and the military will be brought into the area to stabilize the movement and protect Newmont’s interests. This is what we call “Conga con Fusiles” [Conga with rifles].

The second scenario is that Conga doesn’t go through, the consultants say its a bad idea, Newmont drops the project, and we have a big party here in Cajamarca. The third would be what you’re talking about, a compromise of some kind, but for us it would just be a ploy to gain time before we can push them out completely.

The mining industry plays a major role in Peru’s economy. More than sixty percent of the nation’s exports come from mining. Conga would represent the largest single investment in Peru’s history. If the project is stopped, the national government believes Peru will suffer an economic disaster. What’s your opinion?

The question we have to ask ourselves is “what kind of a country do we want to live in?” What kind of a system do we want to adopt to develop our resources? In the early 1990s, under Fujimori’s dictatorship, Peru’s economy was extremely weak so the country opened its doors to foreign investment without setting many boundaries or implementing regular tax codes. In that period we didn’t have much of a choice. Neoliberalism became our new guideline. 

Then, when the Yanacocha gold mine opened, capital flew into the government’s corrupted hands as the majority of Cajamarcans suffered the impacts. Today, Peru’s economy has more or less stabilized. We can afford to decide whether an investment is good or not for our resources and our people – not just for the economy.

The national government thinks the Conga protests are just about money. They tried to calm down demonstrators by raising taxes on the Conga project, but that’s not enough. The fight against Conga is a wide cultural resistance. It’s important to remember that most of Cajamarcans share strong beliefs regarding their land. Their religion revolves around these rivers and lakes. Taking this away from them is more harmful then what most people would imagine. Newmont does not have the social license to do such a thing.

So, in your opinion, what’s the best way to improve Peru’s development strategy?

We must revise Fujimori’s constitution of 1993. It gives too much power to the national government and foreign investors. Regions are left with limited, sometimes minimal influence over the policies that most affect them. 

We must listen to the voice of our regions. The people that live on the land are the one’s most familiar with its potential. Here in Cajamarca, we are very rich in resources, our mountains are full of gold, but we are home to some of the poorest people in Peru. How does that make sense? All we need is the right infrastructure to develop our resources. Right now, we have one paved highway and it leads to the mines.

Mounted

Cajamarca, Peru - © Diego Cupolo 2012

Through the jungle, a mud road to Peru

From La Balsa, the last town in Ecuador, it’s a two-hour ride through the edge of the Amazon to reach the Peruvian border. The road’s unpaved, prone to landslides, and floods often during rain season – now – but Ania and I went anyways.

We flagged down a southbound truck near the bus station, threw our bags in the back, and jumped in front with the old man at the wheel. It was raining and yellow water filled the potholes along the red clay road.

“So, where are you from?” Ania asked the driver.

“Me? I’m from here. I’m from La Balsa.”

“How’s life in La Balsa?”

“Hard.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everything costs more now,” the old man said. “Let me tell you, a liter of cooking oil used to cost eighty cents. Now it’s two dollars. Do you know what kind of impact that has? It’s all Correa’s fault.”

“Correa? The president changed the price of cooking oil?”

“Ever since he got elected, the price of everything’s gone up.”

“But food costs more all over the world,” I said. “Gas prices are up so that means transportation costs are up and we, the consumers, pay the difference.”

“Bullshit! Esto es una mierda!” the old man yelled. His face red as the road that was tossing our bodies around the truck cabin. “We produce five million barrels of oil a day in this country. A barrel of oil costs $100. Tell me, how much is five million multiplied by a hundred?”

“Five hundred million,” Ania said.

“Correcto! Five hundred million dollars a day is what we’re making in Ecuador just from oil. And where the hell is all that money? When will it be spent for the people in the pueblos? We’re the ones that need help.”

“Didn’t Correa put a lot of money in education and health care, though?” Ania asked.

“Some, but who knows if it ever gets there. Por ejemplo, let me give you an example, look at this road we’re driving on, this muddy mess of potholes, es pura mierda! We have landslides and accidents all the time here. Look at those crosses over there.”

He pointed at a cluster of white, painted wood crosses at the edge of the road.

“That was a bus. Sixteen people died when it went rolling down the mountain.”

“Aye! When was that?”

“Two months ago,” the old man said. “But here’s the best part, when Correa got elected he said he’d put aside one million dollars a year to fix this terrible road. But look at it! You see it, right? It’s still dirt. It’s been years now and it’s still dirt! Where are the one million dollars a year going? Not here, obviously. The greedy politicians in Quito are keeping it all.”

“Here in Ecuador,” he continued. “We have more corruption than we have money. That’s the truth and that’s why life is so expensive for the rest of us, those of us without brothers in the government.”

The truck took a quick turn around a rocky bend. Ania pressed my body against the truck’s door and I could see into the green canyon below where a violent river ripped trees from its banks and swallowed them whole in its thick, chocolate milk rapids.

“But Correa is better than your recent presidents, right? Ania asked. “Maybe this road isn’t good, but all the other roads we saw in Ecuador were brand new. Correa is creating some progress in this country isn’t he? ”

“No, son todos chanchos, they’re all pigs and they’re all corrupt. It’s always the same. I’m tired of all these politicians talking about hope and change. They always say that crap and then they screw us. Correa’s just like everyone else.”

“Have you liked any of the presidents you’ve had in Ecuador,” I asked.

“Yes, Aguilera. He was the only good one.”

“Aguilera? When was he in office?”

“In the early eighties. He said the future of Ecuador was in the Amazon and we would use our resources here to pay off our debts. He wanted to industrialize the country. He was going to make us into a profitable nation and raise the standard of living. In the twenty months that he was president he was able to pave the road to Zumba so people in the south and in the amazon could have better access to the rest of the country.”

“Why was he president for only twenty months?” I asked.

“Lo Mataron. They killed him and his entire family. That’s what happens when you really want to change things in Ecuador.”

We reached the Peruvian border, got out of the truck and got our passports stamped. The custom’s officer played with Ania’s golden hat and asked if he could keep it.

She said no.

When we got back to the truck, the old man told us he’d stay in town for a while so we said our goodbyes and crossed a bridge over another brown, violent river and entered Peru.

After so many years of injustice, faith can sometimes feel like a foreign language in Latin America.

La Balsa, Ecuador - © Diego Cupolo 2012

Never seen so many suits look so crooked

Quito, Ecuador - © Diego Cupolo 2012

They called him “Pineapple face”

He worked for the CIA and Pablo Escobar at the same time.

He studied at Georgia’s infamous School of Americas and, like many of his classmates, became a violent dictator after graduating.

Manuel Noriega - he created the need for a new term in politics: The Narcokleptocracy.

Regardless of his reputation, people in his native Panama called him “Pineapple Face” for his acne-scarred complexion … and still do.

Noriega was Panama’s de facto military leader from 1983-1989. Though he had absolute rule, he never had absolute respect. He was forced out of power by a one-day United States invasion codenamed “Operation Just Cause.”

Warplanes, helicopters, and ground troops attacked military targets and high-density residential neighborhoods in Panama City, causing thousands of civilian casualties in the process, but it was called “Operation Just Cause” …

… so it had to be done.

Shortly after the invasion, Noriega was arrested for various human rights violations and drug trafficking charges. Most Panamanians were happy to see him go. His National Guard was known for widespread abuse. Military officials would show up at people’s houses and ask for the keys to their cars.

Why? Because they had guns, that’s why.

Now, after serving more than 20 years in U.S./French prisons, Noriega will be extradited back to Panama where he will face new trials for his human rights violations and serve even more prison time.

I asked the newspaper salesman what he thought about the whole thing.

“They should’ve killed the bastard a long time ago,” he said.

What a shame, he was such a nice boy before college.

[Headline translation: Noriega to return in three weeks]

Panama City, Panama - © Diego Cupolo 2011

Fog, Empty Beaches and Dictator Residue

Las Peñitas was deserted after the hurricane. Only fog crept in at night. With so many abandoned houses rotting beneath orange street lights, the town looked more like the set of a zombie movie than a beach resort.

It was perfect. Ania and I had the beach to ourselves.

Locals fought over our business. Restaurants made us cheap “fisherman specials”  and bartenders gave us free drinks for company. It rained at least twice a day, but Las Peñitas was so economic we decided to stay for a while.

I passed the slow, pointless days reading Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time and exploring ruins. On the edge of town there was an old vacation house for Somoza’s government officials. It was ransacked after the dictatorship fell, but the colorful mosaic at the bottom of the pool was still intact.

The building stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It must’ve been a top-notch party spot because there was a bar built into a cave along a rock ledge. (Visible on the right side of the photo.)

I thought about the bartender that worked there. Did he serve Somoza? If so, what did they talk about? Did Somoza get drunk and rant about the political prisoners he killed that day? Did he ever brag about the people he threw into volcanoes from his personal helicopters?

Then I thought about the money that built the bar, the vacation home and the mosaic in the pool. Most likely it came from U.S. taxpayers. One reason is the 1972 earthquake that leveled the nation’s capitol.

The American government (then big supporters of the Somoza’s dictatorship) sent down about $55 million to speed up reconstruction. Amazingly, only $14 million went towards disaster relief. The rest “disappeared.”

That’s just one example. The Somoza family ruled over Nicaragua for more than 40 years.

At least they got the bastard. Americans let Cheney walk around freely.

© Diego Cupolo 2011

Dictator Residue

Las Peñitas, Nicaragua

© Diego Cupolo 2011

Javier Speaks

No, I’m not voting in the elections.

I already know who’s going to win.

Daniel.

There’s no real opposition and the FSLN has all the money. It’s corruption.

Let me give you an example. We have special officers that count the votes in every election. Normally, each party has their own officer, but all of the officers are now part of the FSLN. Basically, we have people counting votes for the parties they’re running against.

People know our government is corrupt, but they don’t do anything about it. They think changing our politics means another war so they don’t complain much. With the revolution not so far in the past, most people just want peace.

The FSLN knows this and it’s part of how they stay in power. Not many people will speak badly about them. It’s dangerous to speak against them. They don’t kill you or torture you like Somoza, but they’ll ruin your life.

You know, they have offices in every town where they give you a special document saying you’re a Sandinista. If you’re against any of their policies they take this document away from you and most places require it when they hire you.

Daniel is looking more like a dictator every year.

It’s a shame really. The FSLN started with good intentions: help the poor, vaccinations, health services, education in rural areas. Now things changed. We’re not getting anywhere.

Daniel always criticizes the U.S. in his speeches, but then he signs trade deals with them when he gets back to his office. We’ve been getting more help from Chavez lately, but he’s the same. Chavez yells and screams about U.S. imperialism, but in the end he sells most of Venezuela’s oil to the U.S.

It’s the same story in every Latin American country. We seem to copy each other, dictators and all.

Me, I just want to make a little money and support my family.

It’s hard living here on the farm. We lose a lot of money and we don’t even have enough people to work the land anymore. Everyone’s moving to the cities thinking they’ll have better lives, but they just find more problems. You have to buy everything in the city and most of it’s pure garbage.

I don’t know what to do, really. I feel stuck. Maybe something will change later, but for now we have Daniel and Daniel promises everything and delivers little.

La Soñada - Miraflor, Nicaragua

© Diego Cupolo 2011

The Town Called “Asbestos”

A hitchhiker stuck his thump out on the shoulder of Route 112. He was an old man. Gray hair, glasses and a blue flannel shirt.

Not likely to kill.

I pulled over. Claudia and Genevieve were asleep in the back.

“Bonjour, where are you going?” I said.

“Asbestos.”

“Asbestos?”

“Yeah, it’s a ways up, a little more than an hour.”

“Asbestos is a town?” I said. “Is it on the way to Sherbrooke?”

“Sure is.”

“Then hop in my friend.”

His name was Jean René. He was easy going, but didn’t talk much. Just gave directions.

He took us through an area with large, mountain-size piles of gray rock. They looked like quarries. The word “LIBERTY” was written in big letters on the largest pile. Someone had taken time to dig those letters into the gravel. “LIBERTY.” For all the drivers on Route 112 to see.

We kept going and a road sign read “Thetford Mines.”

“Mines?” I said. “Hey, Jean René, do you know what they mine here?”

“Asbestos.”

Asbestos, a known hazardous material – banned in almost 60 countries – is being excavated and exported here in “environmentally friendly,” electric car pioneering, ultra-progressive Quebec.

It’s very likely to kill.

Quebec is the only province that mines asbestos and it all happens on the Appalachian foothills, just three hours east of Montreal. The asbestos industry rakes in $100 million a year, which is relatively small for resource extraction, but it makes a significant impact locally and abroad.

The numbers:

- In 2008, Quebec was the fifth largest asbestos producer in the world, behind Russia, China, Kazakhstan and Brazil.

- Quebec exports 95 percent of its asbestos, mostly to Asia and poor countries.

- The World Health Organization estimates more than 107,000 people die each year from asbestos-related lung cancer, mesothelioma and asbestosis resulting from occupational exposure.

- Here in Quebec, 58 people died from asbestos-related illnesses in 2008 alone.

All this is happening as the Canadian government spends $863 million to remove asbestos from its parliamentary buildings in Ottawa. The hypocrisy is so blatant even The Daily Show had to take a few jabs.

The reasoning:

Government officials claim chrysotile (the type of asbestos produced in Quebec) is not dangerous when handled properly. They also say the industry creates hundreds of jobs in central Quebec.

Canada is the only G8 nation fighting to keep chrysotile off the U.N.’s list of hazardous materials known as the Rotterdam Convention. In doing so, Canada joins Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Ukraine and Vietnam as the treaty’s few dissidents.

Dedication to asbestos mining is strong even as global demand plummets.

But it’s not just demand. Production is also in decline at Thetford Mines. Right now, the Quebec provincial government is thinking about helping the waning industry with a $5 million loan guarantee. A boost that would expand the mines.

The whole thing is maddening, especially for the health officials, human rights activists and environmentalists who have been working to halt asbestos production for over a century.

Seems like the industry won’t die until it kills itself.

The logic:

1. The reason to keep the asbestos industry alive cannot be jobs because it only employs about 400 people in Quebec. There are just two mines and only one stays open year-round.

2. Even if asbestos is “handled safely” during installation (which is hard to imagine) no amount of safe-handling can prevent earthquakes and other uncontrollable events. As Stephen Spencer Davis puts it:

“When buildings crumble, asbestos is released into the air. A good example is the World Trade Center. The first 40 floors of the towers were full of asbestos, which consequently, engulfed lower Manhattan when the buildings collapsed. [Causing thousands of New Yorkers to suffer lung-related problems.]”

3. Asbestos production harms Canada’s global image – something that is already fragile as proved by the nation’s failure to win a seat on the U.N.’s Security Council.

Therefore, if the asbestos industry is deadly, bad for public relations, creates few jobs, and shrinks with time, there is only one answer for its existence:

The Canadian government is easy to buy.

It’s that simple. The industry would rather pay off politicians in Ottawa and Quebec than redirect its business towards other, less poisonous resources. Resources with higher global demand and higher long-term profits.

But capitalism lives in the short-term. I guess it’s easier to keep doing things the old way and pray for government loans to bolster impractical business plans.

Of course, Jean René didn’t tell me any of this. He didn’t like to talk. I had to find out for myself.

We reached the town called Asbestos and I let him out near a gas station. He said a friend would pick him up there. I said goodbye to Jean René and drove towards Sherbrooke.

Along the way I passed more large piles of gray rock. They looked just like the ones in Thetford Mines. I imagined the word “LIBERTY” again. The way it was written on the asbestos mine. What did the word mean to the people that put it there?

Liberty as in “freedom for all”?

Or

Liberty to sell whatever you want, regardless of the consequences?

© Diego Cupolo 2011

Canadian troops leave Afghanistan

Nice.

Now about that budget down south …

© Diego Cupolo 2011

The Re-Election “Bush’s Puppy Dog”

Politics are more enjoyable from afar. They’re almost amusing when they don’t impact your life. 

This is true when following the silly U.S. budget debates from abroad, and also true when witnessing elections in a foreign country. 

Last week, Canada held special federal elections because Stephen Harper’s government was found in contempt. The result: voters re-elected Harper and gave his conservative party the majority.

The sound of palms smacking against foreheads was heard throughout Quebec.

Some people cried. 

Locals call Harper “Bush’s puppy dog” and judging by his stubborn deregulation policies, I would agree, only Harper looks about ten times dumber than Bush.

Voters in Quebec wanted to stop his re-election so badly they voted against their local party, the Bloc Québécois, and went with the NDP because they had a better chance of defeating Harper. 

The outcome was tragic. Harper won anyway and the Québécois have less representation at the federal level.

I asked a friend if the election results would reignite the seperatist movement in Quebec.

“I hope so, it’s clear that Quebec wants something different than the rest of Canada,” she said. “If Quebec doesn’t separate in the next five years, we will never separate.”

For now, it seems the idiot president is the way to go in 21st century politics. Harper will join Berlusconi, Sarkozy and Bush in the gradual de-evolution of Western society. Their damage is deep and widespread, but not necessarily permanent. 

If this is what the public needs to wake up, so be it.

© Diego Cupolo 2011

Day 7: Beaches and Bandits

Clouds leftover from the other day’s storm made their way south today and the skies became clear again. Time for the beach. I walked down to the main road and hitched a ride from two Puerto Rican girls in a Geo Tracker.

We parked at Bahia De La Chiva and they reminded each other to roll down the windows.

“Why, so it doesn’t get hot in here?” I asked.

“No, so the thieves don’t smash the windows if they wanna break in. We take everything with us and leave the car unlocked.”

“Aha.”

“Yeah, we don’t carry credit cards, IDs, money, nothing. The thieves ride around on horses and steal people’s bags when they go in the water,” the driver said.

“On horses? Oh, I think I saw one of them yesterday. I was coming back from the Playuela beach late in the afternoon and this young guy wearing baggy basketball shorts and a doo-rag rode towards me on his horse. I just waved and he turned around and rode away. I figured he was either security or he was thinking about robbing me.”

“Yeah, that was probably one.”

“Well, damn. Who would’ve thought. Doo-rag cowboy bandits. I guess I’ll keep an eye on my bag nearby when I’m swimming.”

We walked onto the beach and separated. These stretches of pristine white sand and Listerine colored waters are best enjoyed alone. It was true paradise. Best of all, there were between zero and three people on each beach.

This particular group of beaches has only been open to the public for six or seven years. For almost seventy years, the land belonged to the US government and was used by the navy for bombing practice. Yes, at some point after World War II, government officials came to this undeveloped, beautiful tropical island and decided it would be a good place to bomb on a daily basis.

As a result, the land and water around these dream-like beaches is now contaminated. The US government says it’s cleaning it up.

Vieques residents protested and despised the military operations on their island for years, but it would take a death to add teeth to the movement. In 1999, a bomb killed an island native during target practice. He was working as a security guard near a Navy training facility and his death put even more pressure on the US to end the bombing.

As a result, the training base closed in 2003 and the US government began opening the restricted area to the public – starting with the beaches. The strange trade off is residents and visitors can now enjoy untouched, natural beaches along the island’s southern shores that probably would’ve been developed by mega-hotel chains long ago if the military didn’t claim the land first.

Bombing this paradise kept it “pure”? 

I thought about this mess of diplomacy as I walked through mangrove forests, under waterside coconut trees and over rock cliffs that pirates probably climbed back in their heyday.

Humans can be damn stupid, but it’s all going to be fine in the end. Everything is temporary. 

The sun started sinking in the west and I made my way back to Bahia De La Chiva. I caught a ride from Hal right off the beach and he also drove a Geo Tracker. 

“What brings you to the island,” I asked.

“I’m waiting to start a job overseas and they’re doing a background check on me for security reasons. The procedure takes a few months so I figured, what the heck, I’m gonna spend my time at the beach.”

“Sounds like a damn good plan to me. What kind of work do you do?”

“Mostly, legal work. I’m a lawyer. Right now, I’m being screened for a job in Afghanistan.”

“Shit!”

“Yup. It pays damn well. The salary is compensates for the risk. I’m going to be out there in bunkers with the troops. A sitting target for a missile attack.”

“That’s crazy. In Afghanistan they’ll take anyone for a hostage.”

“Well, at my age I’ve got the same chance dying here as I do dying there.”

“What would you be doing out there?”

“Basically, after the troops stabilize an area I would go in there with other lawyers, economists, architects and barometrists and figure out what the area needs to develop.”

I took a minute to look Hal in the eyes. He was heavy set with buzz cut, maybe pushing 60, and seemed like an honest man – the kind of guy that would make for good company at a bar. I had a hard time imagining him on the battlefield.

“Well, good luck with that. You ever do this type of work before?”

“Oh sure. I’ve been all over. Malaysia, Columbia, Panama, Cambodia, Sudan, Kosovo, Kuwait and even Afghanistan once before,” he said. “If you ask me, I prefer to work overseas. I mean, I’m an American and that’s where I was born, but I’d rather watch that country from afar. Something just doesn’t feel right to me when I’m in the US.”

© Diego Cupolo 2010