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Yucatan Diary- Day 1
Progreso- January 3, 2005
by Ben White
posted 01/11/05
Things are beginning to heat up on the Mexican seismic front. Today
journalists bounced from back to back press conferences across the sixteenth
century city of Merida, the capital of the Yucatan province. First they
heard from the government that the seismic experiment slated to begin this
Saturday out from Progreso represents a huge leap forward for mankind´s
knowledge of the Chicxulub Crater, combining the intelligence of five
countries of scientists. They were also told that, even though the tests do
indeed involve pumping almost unbelievably loud sounds (up to 255 db) every
twenty seconds during daytime across over three thousand kilometers for
almost two months directly into the living oceans, the experiment will do
absolutely no harm.
As for the whales, dolphins, turtles, fish and countless other creatures,
the scientists say they will just move on.
Only since actually putting my feet on the ground here have I come to
understand a little of the human tragedy involved in this venture.
Here come scientists from around the world in a ship owned by Columbia
University through the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory- the Research Vessel
Maurice Ewing. With bills paid by U.S. citizens through the National Science
Foundation, they come here to the northern coast of the Yucatan to make
sounds so loud that they can penetrate many miles down into the earth´s
crust. Never mind the fear people have here that this kind of repetitive
shock waves could trigger another horrific earthquake across this delicate
peninsula of porous rock honeycombed with caves.
And never mind that almost everyone along this coast fishes for a living,
except for the few that eke out a living from a struggling tourist trade.
Twenty to twenty-five thousand fishing folk along this coast. All of the
little villages along the coast are fishing villages, or trying to be.
Catches are down by more than half over the last two years. Catches of the
preferred fish are down more than that. One thing is for sure about these
seismic airguns- they do not benefit struggling fisheries.
One of the main sources of fish is Scorpion Reef just offshore from
Progreso. The other source of almost everything small and essential are the
endless mangroves that separate the true mainland of Mexico from the barrier
beach strip where Progreso is located on the northern coast of Yucatan. This
vast experiment will affect both.
When I have talked with people involved with seismic work about the
consequences of their work with local fisheries they elbow me in the side,
give a wink and say, well its actually good for fish and bad for fisheries-
we just move them along. The fishermen shouldn´t be whining anyway because
they are the main source of decline of the fisheries, they say.
I wonder if they would be so cavalier if they actually met these people. I
come into a little town absolutely raw- an old gringo in a jeep who speaks
barely acceptable Spanish- putting my flyers up on telephone poles and
talking to whoever will listen. A couple of old guys drinking beer in the
cool of a Sunday evening. I come over, greet them and hand the oldest one my
flyer with the big ALERTA across the top, telling of this killer ship coming
to the Yucatan. I tell them about it.
More people gather around us. Soon
there are over a dozen. All the men are fishermen. They have heard of this-
a little. They have no doubt that the seismic test is really for oil, not
just scientific knowledge. They ask me how the scientists know it won't
cause a tectonic shift like in Asia. I tell them I don´t know how the
scientists can apparently be so smart and so not at the same time. I show
them the number on the bottom of the sheet where they can call if they see
anything strange- lots of dead fish or a stranded turtle, whale or dolphin.
I say we really need them to be our eyes along the coast. At this they smile
big toothless grins and promise to help. These folks have a visceral sense
of environmental awareness and kindness. They pray to the Virgin of
Guadalupe, the Christian counterpart of the Mayan goddess of the Mother
Earth. Unlike trying to curry support on an issue in the U.S., they instantly
get it and are eager for information and connection.
Now that we have a date that the blasting is slated to begin- this Saturday, (Jan. 8)
a million strategic details must be ironed out despite lacking large chunks
of information. According to press leaks to us, the Maurice Ewing is not
even planning on touching Progeso as planned and will be supplied totally by
helicopter or launch. Hmmmm wonder why? Too bad. I was looking forward to
the crew seeing all of the telephone poles along the little tourist strip in
Progreso papered with our ALERTA.
So now we have to prepare a fishermen´s boat to take us out and find them.
Food, fuel, water, batteries, film. I went ahead and told the press today
that I am planning on jumping in the water next to the ship to force them to
turn their earth shaker off. Now a bunch of them would like to join us.
Looks like there will be a couple of Mexican lunatic volunteers and myself
to keep a human body in the water, one local fisherman driving his boat with
a son or two to help, and the rest filled up with seasick journalists- out
on a mission to find the barco asesino, as it is called here in Mexico after
killing two beaked whales in Baja in 2002. I have arranged a small plane to
fly out to find the ship and relay to us the coordinates.
After this journal entry is sent, I will go east along the coast road for a
hundred miles or so to paper the poles of as many little villages as I can
find. The sun is blasting, the iguanas and tarantulas are out, and the
noreaster still flaps the flags and shudders the palapas on the beach. And
this old activist is jazzed to be gearing up to battle again and happy to be
getting such a warm reception. Win or lose in this fight, the argument will
not be the same.
Thanks for everyone´s good wishes. I wear them like magic amulets of
protection.
Love and Revolution,
Ben
Yucatan Diary Day 2 - Merida, Yucatan-by Ben White
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