3 minute read
The Source Of The Mud
Monday – 18/1/2016
Camargos is a small district on the edge of the Tesoureiro River. I already know it, having photographed and drawn it. Arana and I were here six months ago, on a more playful trip and with lighter recognition of the Estrada Real35 . I remember being amazed by the small village, not only for its colonial beauty, but also for having served as an entry point to the north of the historic region and for being the beginning of a still preserved Minas, however pierced by all sort of mines. We are greeted by the usual bucolic atmosphere, but the air is different.
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Monday – 18/1/2016
“Mariana… Old city! It is said to be the first settlement in the entire state, the first capital for sure. The village was established to initiate control of the entire mining process that would come to name the state till the present day. For centuries, all the roads in the region have crossed here, it is here that they started. For centuries, mining pits and tunnels, whatever the ore, have marked the entire region. Even today, in its negligence marked by exploitation, the paths depart from Mariana in the shape of mud.
Everything is taken from our lands. History persists in describing itself and recounting its disasters, hoping to be guided by other steps. We ask ourselves, where does all this fit, as a model of a new Brazil, in its example of irresolution, guided to where, from now on?”
Monday – 18/1/2016
After a few minutes we are interviewing Dona Adriana, originally from Belo Horizonte, who has moved away for the peace of the countryside. She and her husband João make several statements about what happened. They have lost old friends, and practically all their acquaintances have had their lives devastated; fortunately, they have been able to keep their home and their health. They point out problems with Samarco and negligence on the part of the government. Nevertheless, what certainly has shocked us most in their accounts is the fact that, around 24 hours before the dam broke, a huge explosion was heard miles away from the mine. The most curious point about this fact is that this explosion was the only one, in decades of the mining operation, to have occurred outside the scheduled hours of the mining company. Until now, we have already heard all kinds of reports that indicate negligence in dealing with the situation, but this is the first time we hear reports about the smothering of a fact that may have been decisive for understanding what happened. Undoubtedly, this fact deserves a more detailed investigation.
Monday – 18/1/2016
We continue for a while heading north, not long, trying to reach Bento Rodrigues, but access along this route is blocked, as stretches of the road are dragged out. Here and there, it is possible to unveil sights of total destruction. We decide to climb a hill near the high voltage towers, and nothing has prepared us for this. As far as the end of the horizon, the river unfolds like a snake, a big Boitatá36, in the shape of destruction. Surrounded by the green of the somehow preserved forest, we see the cut that the torrent has made. All the valleys around the mine are torn up, and the slope cuts reach ten metres high... carried away by the river, by the mud, which in part remain. We go down and stop after seeing the chaos, at the edge of the point where a pathway along the Gualaxo River has been disformed into a cut in the hill. The old bridge, in an original stretch of the Estrada Real, has given way to the major discharge of debris in the country. The scenario of chaos is beyond measure. The Gualaxo unfolds in its valleys, metres below us and all the mountain slopes, about fifteen metres high, have been eaten and taken away by the force of the mud. It has swallowed everything, pulled down bridges, destroyed mountains, killed, buried, overwhelmed, wiped out... a river and its life. We don’t know what really needs to be done. Having already covered almost 2,000 kilometres, all we have witnessed is destruction. Here, we remain silent.
