BY RYAN MACRAE
GUEST OPINION
Driving along the highway, after passing through the community of Maimón, you hear it: the faint sound of merengue music off in the distance. As you approach closer, the sound intensifies, until the scene unveils itself from atop a hill beside the road. A small hut with tarps stretching out above circles of people; some playing dominos while others cook in pots over an open fire. Even though the smell of sulphur lingers in the air, the energy is strong at the Barrick Gold Resistance Camp.
It wasn’t long ago that this camp was stationed in front of the tunnel to the entrance of the Barrick Gold mine in Pueblo Viejo, Dominican Republic, underneath a tree at the fork in the road. Unfortunately, the camp had to relocate after authorities demolished it late one evening, uprooting the beautiful tree which supported its structure.
The camp’s new location sits facing the enormous mine, where trucks roar throughout the mine’s 24/7 operation. November 6 marked the one-year anniversary of the camp, whose protest calls for compensated relocation of the six surrounding communities since environmental damage from the mine has created an unlivable situation.
In 2002, Canadian company Placer Dome received permission from the Dominican government to control the Pueblo Viejo Mining Complex, the largest gold deposit in the Americas. This revoked ownership from state-owned Rosario Dominicana, who operated the mine between 1975 and 1999. Barrick acquired Placer Dome in 2006 and would sell 40 percent of the project to its current operating partner, Goldcorp Inc. The joint venture began production on August 14, 2012.
Although Rosario had been operating for 24 years prior to Barrick, the environmental damage has been exponentially amplified with the Canadian company’s arrival. Since 2012, the communities’ main water source, the Maguaca river, has been contaminated by pollutants from the massive pool of Barrick’s liquid waste which hangs in a valley above the surrounding communities.
Many livestock have died from drinking the river’s water and many members of the community display horrific skin conditions after having come in contact with the water. The government has begun issuing four five-gallon water jugs per household per week – hardly enough to sustain a family.
The damage impacts local agricultural production, where many fruits and vegetables haven’t been edible over the last five years. With the leaves of the yuca plants yellowed by acidic rain, and the milk from the coconuts revealing a rotten, black colour, residents travel to the nearby towns of Maimón and Cotui to purchase reliable produce.
As per Dominican law, mining communities are entitled to 5 per cent of profits, but this compensation is yet to arrive in the hands of community members. With few and infrequent working opportunities, people are struggling to make ends meet. Thus, the community has been committed to fighting for justice.
After a hefty meal and hours of palodancing in the rain, the group assembles to march to the entrance of the mine. Before leaving, an organizer shouts to her allies, “…this coming year we will be even more vocal, and even more aggressive!”
- Ryan MacRae, Stratford, is working in the Dominican Republic through the Latin American Missions Program