Biofuel's Big Bean
(Page 3 of 3)
Utne Reader July / August 2007 Issue
by April Howard and Benjamin Dangl, In These Times
As we drive though the soy fields, a terrible smell often forces us to cover our noses and eyes. "That's the venom," says Angélica Ramírez.
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"How would you describe the smell?" we ask.
"Dead dog," she says.
"The soy workers also wash their machines in the river after spraying [pesticides]," says Angélica. "Combined with the agricultural run-off, this means that there are no fish left in our rivers, and the water is completely contaminated."
Leonida Laivas is the Ramírez family's old neighbor. Her land is a tiny island of trees in the expanse of soy. Her entire family suffers from stomach pains, headaches, and sight problems. "The poison never gives us a rest," she says. "Just yesterday the tractors came to spray the soy crops, and the wind blew it all over us." In the nearby town of San Isidro, cancer rates are high and several children have been born with malformed limbs.
Since the first soy boom, the industry has evicted almost 100,000 of Paraguay's small farmers from their homes and fields and forced the relocation of countless indigenous communities. More than 100 campesino leaders have been assassinated, and more than 2,000 others have faced trumped-up charges for their resistance. The Ramírez family now lives in El Triunfo, a community formed by farmers involved in the Asociación de Agricultores de Alto Paraná and designed to prove that small-scale, nonchemical agriculture is possible. The land is communally owned and farmers aren't allowed to sell it.
"There has to be a change," ASAGRAPA President Tomás Zayas says. "Because if not, we are facing the end of the Paraguayan campesino."
Excerpted from In These Times, the 2006 Utne Independent Press Award winner in the political coverage category. Subscriptions: $24.95/yr. (12 issues) from Box 1912, Mt. Morris, IL 61054; www.inthesetimes.com.
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