Project
Preserving the legacy of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Heart of the World
Rising abruptly from Colombia’s Caribbean coast, the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta reaches 5,775 meters (18,946 ft.) at its highest points, the peaks of Bolívar and Colón. It is the highest coastal mountain system in the world, a place where indigenous knowledge and nature’s own wisdom converge.
The sheer changes in elevation create a wide variety of ecosystems within a small area, where the diversity of plant and animal life creates a unique exuberant region. The melting snows of the highest peaks form rivers and lakes, whose freshwater flows down steep slopes to the tropical sea at the base of the mountains.
The indigenous Arhuaco, Kogi, Wiwa, and Kankuamo people protect and care for this natural treasure with an authority they have inherited from their ancestors. According to their worldview the land is sacred and shared in divine communion between humans, animals, plants, rivers, mountains, and the spirts of their ancestors.
Despite this ancestral inheritance, development projects proposed for the region have failed to take the opinions of these indigenous groups into consideration. The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is currently threatened by 251 mineral concessions, hydroelectric projects, agriculture, urban sprawl, and infrastructure projects.
Many of these concessions were granted without the prior consultation of the indigenous communities, which represents a persistent and systematic violation of their rights.
Mining, which implies the contamination and erosion of watersheds, threatens the health of more than 30 rivers that flow out of the Sierra; these are the water sources of the departments of Magdalena, César, and La Guajira.
These threats have brought this natural paradise to the brink of no return. With it, would go the traditional lives of its indigenous inhabitants, who are dependent on the health of their land and the sacred sites it contains.
The Sierra hosts the archaeological site of la Ciudad Perdida, the Lost City, known as Teyuna, the cradle of Tayrona civilization. According to tradition, it is the source from which all nature was born—the living heart of the world.
The four guardian cultures of the Sierra are uninterested in allowing this natural and cultural legacy to disappear.
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Statement on the United States’ departure from the UN Human Rights Council
Today AIDA, as an organization that works to protect the right to a healthy environment in the Americas, released the following statement after the United States decided to withdraw from the United Nations Human Rights Council: We consider it a worrying and unfortunate maneuver that could isolate the United States from the international community and weaken its ability to positively influence human rights protection around the world. This decision sends a negative message, especially to countries with serious human rights situations, about which the United States has expressed concern. From our perspective, this decision shows that the administration has also ignored the thousands of people and organizations in the United States that have spoken out against internal policies, including those involving the separation of migrant families and climate change. It’s important to bear in mind that, despite their departure from the Council, the human rights situation in the United States may continue to be evaluated by that body, as it is for other nations that participate in the U.N. Faced with this decision, we urge other States to respond by demonstrating their leadership to ensure the effective protection of human rights globally. The importance of human rights isn’t about a political perspective, isn’t about a party, is about decency and humanity. PRESS CONTACT: Víctor Quintanilla (Mexico), AIDA, [email protected], +521 5570522107
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The women defending Guatemala’s rivers from large dams
When Maria gets up each morning, the first thing she does is open the tap in her house to see if there’s any water. If there is, she prepares coffee and, within a few hours, food for her family. Her house is alive with plants and animals. Dogs, cats and chickens surround her as she lights the wood stove, carrying her young son on her back. Maria lives in Ixquisis, a region of northwestern Guatemala near the Mexican border, in the department of Huehuetenango. There, water springs from the earth and large rivers like the Pojom and the Negro flow through the mountains. For Maria, the river is a special place. There, she meets with other women and washes clothes, a traditional activity for women in her community, most of whom are indigenous. Each afternoon, as the water flows steadily downstream, they talk about their families, their to-do lists, their joys and their worries. Last month, Maria joined with the other women of Ixquisis to speak about the threats the dams pose to their way of life. They were part of a workshop AIDA organized in collaboration with Protection International and the International Platform Against Impunity. Maria’s life has changed a lot since they started building the Pojom II and San Andrés dams, and she’s been losing sleep. Before the construction of the dams began, Maria used to fish. By submerging a basket in the river, she gathered—as if by magic—snails, shrimp and small fish. These are riches the river no longer provides. Instead, the once pristine river has become filled with garbage, rubble and other debris. The workers use its water to wash cars and machinery. “One day we will run out of water and we won’t be able to live,” Maria said, echoing the primary fear of the women of Ixquisis. “Our children will suffer.” Their fear is well founded. Many families like Maria’s already suffer from stomach and skin diseases that they associate with water pollution. Before the workshop, the women of Ixquisis hadn’t had the opportunity to speak publicly about the importance of water and the rivers in their lives. They hadn’t been able to explain how their rivers had changed since the dams’ construction began. They had also never been provided with information about the projects. But even without knowing the details of the dams, Maria and her neighbors understood that the water in their homes no longer arrived as cleanly or as regularly as before. Time and again, they have peacefully expressed their opposition to the dams. But their voices have been stigmatized and shaken by fear of reprisal. Before Maria walked calmly through her community, even at night. She now leaves the house in fear. But the people of Ixquisis have the support of people and organizations that work to protect the environment and human rights. The international organization Front Line Defenders, for example, recently awarded them the 2018 Award for Human Rights Defenders at Risk. One day after the women’s workshop, we organized a second meeting attended by the men of the region. The lack of water has affected their main subsistence activity: the cultivation of bananas, cardamom, vegetables and other products they take to market. Because their harvests have decreased, they must now work more hours to obtain the same profit. I learned a lot from Maria. Her strength, as well as that of all the residents of Ixquisis, comes from her respect for nature and all it offers them. I share that feeling and channel it into my work as an AIDA attorney, legally advising the men and women of Ixquisis on how to defend their territory. I work so that water will continue to flow from their taps, and so that they can one day walk again without fear, in search of a healthier future for their children.
Read moreThe women defending Guatemala’s rivers from large dams
When Maria gets up each morning, the first thing she does is open the tap in her house to see if there’s any water. If there is, she prepares coffee and, within a few hours, food for her family. Her house is alive with plants and animals. Dogs, cats and chickens surround her as she lights the wood stove, carrying her young son on her back. Maria lives in Ixquisis, a region of northwestern Guatemala near the Mexican border, in the department of Huehuetenango. There, water springs from the earth and large rivers like the Pojom and the Negro flow through the mountains. For Maria, the river is a special place. There, she meets with other women and washes clothes, a traditional activity for women in her community, most of whom are indigenous. Each afternoon, as the water flows steadily downstream, they talk about their families, their to-do lists, their joys and their worries. Last month, Maria joined with the other women of Ixquisis to speak about the threats the dams pose to their way of life. They were part of a workshop AIDA organized in collaboration with Protection International and the International Platform Against Impunity. Maria’s life has changed a lot since they started building the Pojom II and San Andrés dams, and she’s been losing sleep. Before the construction of the dams began, Maria used to fish. By submerging a basket in the river, she gathered—as if by magic—snails, shrimp and small fish. These are riches the river no longer provides. Instead, the once pristine river has become filled with garbage, rubble and other debris. The workers use its water to wash cars and machinery. “One day we will run out of water and we won’t be able to live,” Maria said, echoing the primary fear of the women of Ixquisis. “Our children will suffer.” Their fear is well founded. Many families like Maria’s already suffer from stomach and skin diseases that they associate with water pollution. Before the workshop, the women of Ixquisis hadn’t had the opportunity to speak publicly about the importance of water and the rivers in their lives. They hadn’t been able to explain how their rivers had changed since the dams’ construction began. They had also never been provided with information about the projects. But even without knowing the details of the dams, Maria and her neighbors understood that the water in their homes no longer arrived as cleanly or as regularly as before. Time and again, they have peacefully expressed their opposition to the dams. But their voices have been stigmatized and shaken by fear of reprisal. Before Maria walked calmly through her community, even at night. She now leaves the house in fear. But the people of Ixquisis have the support of people and organizations that work to protect the environment and human rights. The international organization Front Line Defenders, for example, recently awarded them the 2018 Award for Human Rights Defenders at Risk. One day after the women’s workshop, we organized a second meeting attended by the men of the region. The lack of water has affected their main subsistence activity: the cultivation of bananas, cardamom, vegetables and other products they take to market. Because their harvests have decreased, they must now work more hours to obtain the same profit. I learned a lot from Maria. Her strength, as well as that of all the residents of Ixquisis, comes from her respect for nature and all it offers them. I share that feeling and channel it into my work as an AIDA attorney, legally advising the men and women of Ixquisis on how to defend their territory. I work so that water will continue to flow from their taps, and so that they can one day walk again without fear, in search of a healthier future for their children.
Read more