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Shirley, Salazar sign San Juan water rights settlement

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12/30/10

By Kathy Helms
Dine Bureau
Gallup Independent

WINDOW ROCK – Navajo Nation President Joe Shirley Jr., joined Interior Secretary Ken Salazar Dec. 17 in Las Vegas to sign the historic San Juan Navajo Water Rights Settlement, which is expected to bring a $1 billion water project to the Navajo Nation, according to a press release from the president’s office.

The Navajo Nation first signed the agreement with the state of New Mexico on April 19, 2005, and President Obama signed the Omnibus Public Lands Management Act into law on March 25, 2009, authorizing the settlement. The legislation sets forth milestones that must occur for the settlement to be final, the first being execution of the revised settlement agreement by the Secretary before Dec. 31.

The latest signing, at the Colorado River Water Users Association Annual Conference in Las Vegas, fulfills a federal promise to support the Navajo people by providing a long-term sustainable water supply that will reduce the need for hauling water, improve health conditions, and provide the foundation for future economic development in northwestern New Mexico, according to the release.

“By signing this agreement today, the Obama administration is taking another step toward honoring the U.S.’s promises to Indian nations and helping communities gain access to clean, safe water supplies,” Salazar said. “This settlement honorably closes a long chapter of litigation and will bring real benefits to the Navajo people and surrounding communities.”

Shirley said he learned from his grandmother that the real monsters all people must confront are hunger, thirst, greed, jealousy, bigotry and all manner of diseases. They know no color or creed and prey upon all equally, he said.

“It takes working together to beat the beast, and that’s why I’m very thankful. Because of the settlement, it will bring water to 80,000 of my people, many of whom are elders, up in years, who are hauling water to this day. It comes from the heart when I say thank you, Secretary Salazar.”

Navajo Nation Water Rights Attorney Stanley Pollack, who worked on the settlement for 24 years as a lawyer for the Nation, called the settlement the biggest accomplishment of his professional career.

“But it’s just another step in the long road we have to go to get Navajos drinking water,” he said. “We are now on our way toward implementation of the settlement which quantifies the rights of the Navajo Nation to the San Juan River and brings drinking water to the Navajo Nation through the Navajo-Gallup Water Supply Project.”

Shirley congratulated the Navajo Nation Council for the courage to approve the settlement agreement in 2004, and also thanked the Navajo Nation Water Rights Commission, the Navajo Nation Department of Justice and the Navajo Water Resources Department for their diligent work. “Nothing is ever accomplished without working together, and this step forward demonstrates that clearly,” he said.

The settlement allocates more than 600,000 acre-feet of diversions and 325,670 acre-feet of depletions per year within New Mexico from the San Juan River of the Upper Colorado River Basin for use by the Navajo Nation. Congress will appropriate funds over time for construction of the Navajo-Gallup Water Supply Project.

Salazar also talked about how the Colorado River Basin serves as a model for multi-state collaboration, but cautioned that the ongoing drought requires that all stakeholders continue to choose consensus over controversy. “We must build a water policy that is inclusive of all interests – urban, agricultural, tribal, recreational, and environmental – and where all parties recognize that the other has an equal stake in keeping the river healthy,” Salazar said.

According to the Bureau of Reclamation, since 2000, Colorado River Basin reservoirs have dropped from nearly full to approximately 55 percent of total storage. Lake Mead now stands at 39 percent of capacity, lower than it has been since it was filling in the 1930s. The last 11 years have been the driest in a century of recorded history. Current projections show that if the drought conditions persist, the Lower Basin (Arizona, California and Nevada) may be subject to the first-ever domestic shortage declaration on the Colorado River as early as 2012; the likelihood of shortage conditions by 2014 is approximately 35 percent.

Abandoned Uranium Mines: An 'Overwhelming Problem' in the Navajo Nation

Forgotten People is in the News: “Abandoned Uranium Mines: An ‘Overwhelming Problem’ in the Navajo Nation.”  Please check out the front page story of Scienceline yesterday, and now you can see it here:  http://www.scienceline.org/2010/12/an-%E2%80%9Coverwhelming-problem%E2%80%9D-in-the-navajo-nation/

It’s on the front page of SciAm.com today: http://www.scientificamerican.com/ or here:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=abandoned-uranium-mines-a

Scientific American

News | Energy & Sustainability

Abandoned Uranium Mines: An ‘Overwhelming Problem’ in the Navajo Nation

A look at one uranium mine shows how difficult it will be to clean up the reservation’s hundreds of abandoned Cold War-era mines

By Francie Diep | December 30, 2010 | 0

There’s an old uranium mine on rancher Larry Gordy’s grazing land near Cameron, Ariz. Like hundreds of other abandoned mines in the Navajo Nation, the United States’ largest Indian reservation, it looks as if it might still be in use—tailings, or waste products of uranium processing, are still piled everywhere, and the land isn’t fenced off. “It looks like Mars,” said Marsha Monestersky, program director of Forgotten People, an advocacy organization for the western region of the vast Navajo Nation, which covers 27,000 square miles in Arizona, Utah and New Mexico.

The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency is currently embroiled in a massive effort to assess 520 open abandoned uranium mines all over the vast reservation. (Forgotten People says there are even more mines on Navajo land: about 1,300.) Earlier this month, the cleanup got a boost from a bankruptcy settlement with Oklahoma City-based chemical company Tronox Inc., which will give federal and Navajo Nation officials $14.5 million to address the reservation’s uranium contamination.

During the Cold War, private companies such as Tronox’s former parent company, Kerr-McGee Corp., operated uranium mines under U.S. government contracts, removing four million tons of ore that went into making nuclear weapons and fuel. When demand dried up with the end of the era, companies simply abandoned their mines as they were.

Remediation work started 10 years ago, when the EPA mapped the mines by investigating company records and surveying the land with helicopters equipped with radiation detectors. The agency is now halfway through visiting mines to determine their radiation levels. “It’s an overwhelming problem,” said Clancy Tenley, EPA assistant director for the region.

The mines expose Navajo Nation residents to uranium through airborne dust and contaminated drinking water. Many residents’ homes were built using mud and rocks near mines, and some of that building material is radioactive. There are few published studies on the effects of uranium mines on nearby residents, but researchers at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the University of New Mexico are working on health assessments, according to EPA officials. Researchers have known for decades that uranium exposure increases the risk of lung and bone cancers and kidney damage.

In July, the leaders of Forgotten People pushed the EPA to begin cleanup in Cameron because they were worried about the effects of the mines there on ranchers like Gordy, whose cattle drink and graze on uranium-contaminated land. Their tussle with the agency highlights the difficulties the EPA faces in all stages of its cleanup, which will likely take decades. The uranium mine Gordy found wasn’t even included in the EPA’s original atlas. “We’re grateful to [Monestersky] for pointing that out to us,” said Tenley, the agency spokesman. He initially said the EPA would visit the site within six months but publicity over conditions there apparently prompted a change of heart.

Instead, EPA contractors assessed the site November 9. A scientist who participated wouldn’t discuss what he found without EPA officials present, and agency officials couldn’t be reached for comment. However, Lee Greer, a biologist from La Sierra University in Riverside, Calif., was part of a conference call about the assessment’s results. Greer has been working with Forgotten People to record radiation levels at sites that interest the advocacy group. He said the EPA contractors found radiation levels at the mine that were higher than the EPA’s Geiger counters could measure.

The accelerated assessment of Gordy’s ranch came six days after Greer presented his radiation results from the site to the Geological Society of America. A geologist who was present at the society meeting said that, based on Greer’s findings, a cleanup of the mine should be a high priority. “The sooner, the better,” said Michael Phillips, a professor at Illinois Valley Community College. Because the uranium at this mine is on the surface of the land, people and animals are more likely to come in contact with it, he added.

But the preliminary assessment of the site is just the first step on a long road to a cleanup that is years and possibly even decades away. The time lag between an assessment and a remediation job depends on what scientists find at a particular mine, said Andrew Bain, EPA remediation project manager. The U.S.’s five-year plan for the Navajo Nation’s uranium mines only covers assessment, not cleanup. The EPA started remediating the reservation’s largest mine, the Northeast Church Rock Mine in New Mexico, in 2005, and doesn’t expect to finish until 2019. “We have no estimate for how long it’ll take to clean up all the mines,” agency spokesman Tenley said.

As for the price tag, the recent Tronox settlement will only cover a fraction of the overall cleanup. Just assessing the uranium mines in the Navajo Nation costs the EPA about $12 million every year, said Tenley. Remediation would cost more, he added. How much more? “In the hundreds of millions,” he said.

All this means a long wait for residents like Gordy, though they’ve already waited more than 20 years since the close of the Cold War. “It’s taking forever to get it cleaned up,” said Don Yellowman, president of Forgotten People. “It seems like everyone’s aware but nobody’s taking notice. We don’t understand.”

Abandoned Uranium Mines: An ‘Overwhelming Problem’ in the Navajo Nation

The Navajo Supreme Court upholds Walter Phelps for newly created precinct

– BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS –

SC-CV-67-10  Chee v. Navajo Election Administration et al. Opinion.  On December 28, 2010, The Supreme Court reversed the OHA’s decision contesting invalidation of the general election results at Birdsprings and Tolani Lake Chapters and declared the 2010 General Election results VALID and certify Walter Phelps as Navajo Nation Council delegate for the newly created precinct. Congratulations Walter Phelps!

The Navajo Supreme Court upholds Walter Phelps for newly created precinct

Abandoned un-remediated uranium mill and mine in SE Cameron, Arizona

Please check out the photos of an abandoned, un-remediated uranium mill and mine in SE Cameron, Arizona where a US Environmental Protection Agency Superfund Contractor maxed out his Geiger Counter at over a million counts a minute.  Background levels in the area are between 50-100 counts a minute.  The mill is located in the wetlands, a few feet from the Little CO River across the wash from Black Falls (Navajo Nation), AZ where all the water sources are contaminated with uranium and arsenic.

http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/kgx8qvKQJSiezc15GG-wwg?feat=directlink

Wupatki eviction survivors remember….

Several elders from families evicted from their ancestral winter grazing grounds and homes in what are now the Wupatki National Monument, the Babbitt and Shuey ranches were video interviewed about their evictions by Don Yellowman (Forgotten People) and Dr. Lee Greer (La Sierra University, Riverside, CA). The oral histories were recorded on the 20th through the 22nd of December in Coalmine, Wupatki, and Black Falls. Some of the children and relatives of survivors were also interviewed. These oral histories are part of a project to find and record the memories of as many remaining survivors and relatives as possible in order to add to the growing body of documented research on the Wupatki evictions.

Octogenarian sisters who experienced the eviction of their family: Faye Willie and Elsie Tohannie (née Peshlakai).

Oral memories include being subjected to deceptive offers of help and gifts, the gradual unveiling of the eviction agenda, being herded by Park Rangers away from Wupatki toward the Little Colorado River, being threatened by the overhead firing of rounds by ranch fence riders, threats against and arrest of family leaders, and the gradual eviction of families as heads of households died. In the case of the sole remaining resident within the national monument, Stella Peshlakai, the pressure and harassment has included placing a locked gate in front of her access road making entry by family and service personnel difficult, the recent, mysterious opening of her livestock corral followed by Park complaints about her goats being loose, repeated incidents of pressure by individual Park Rangers, including even within the last month. If her water usage seems high, she is accused of sharing the piped in water with other Diné. Other events frequently follow the pattern.

In addition to the memories of survivors and their families, there are numerous remnants of the homes and corrals of the evicted inhabitants scattered over the hills, the cemented closing off of traditional springs in the region, and the piping in of outside water. Some of the disturbed springs are sacred sites, which provided water for generations of native inhabitants and their livestock.

Since the US government now officially supports (as of 16 December 2010) the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, it is an opportune moment. The ultimate goal is justice, not merely a monument memorial to the Wupatki Navajo and the ancient Anasazi, but also the right of return for the several families with roots in the Wupatki. Workable legislative precedents of renewed indigenous presence in national parks are available.

Santa Claus comes early to Black Falls & Box Springs

Santa Claus comes early to Black Falls and Box Springs with Operation Christmas Child to deliver Christmas gifts! Dr. Lee F. Greer (Biology professor, La Sierra University, Riverside, CA) conducts interviews with Back Falls residents who are survivors of the Wupatki evictions.

Santa Claus comes early to Black Falls and Box Springs

Santa Claus comes early to Black Falls and Box Springs

http://picasaweb.google.com/forgottenpeoplecdc/122110ChristmasComesToBF?feat=directlink

Navajo Times article Judge quashes group's motion on casino site

Navajo Times
Judge quashes group’s motion on casino site.

BY BILL DONOVAN
SPECIAL TO THE TIMES
Thursday, December 09, 2010

WINDOW ROCK-A state judge in Flagstaff has rejected efforts by a Navajo citizen’s group to alert potential investors that land for the planned Twin Arrows casino could become entangled in a lawsuit in Navajo Nation court.

The Forgotten People, a grassroots organization of families affected by the Bennett Freeze and the Navajo-Hopi partition, filed a motion in Coconino County Superior Court to know the casino site could be encumbered by a lien.

Called a “lis pendens” (legalese for “suit pending”), the motion was filed in state court because the Navajo Nation does not have a lis pendens law on its books, said Marsha Monestersky, program manager for the Forgotten People.

However, Superior Court Judge Don Slayton sided with attorneys for the Navajo Nation and quashed the motion in a ruling issued just before Thanksgiving.

The Forgotten People are challenging the uses of money from the Navajo-Hopi Rehabilitation Trust Fund to develop the casino.

The lis pendens refers to the group’s lawsuit in Window Rock District Court, which seeks an accounting of how the tribe is spending money from the trust fund. The fund was set up to benefit Navajo families who live in the Bennett Freeze areas, where no development was allowed for more than four decades because of the land dispute between the Navajos and the Hopis.

The organization is trying to find out, among other things, how much of the fund has been used to develop the proposed Twin Arrows casino east of Flagstaff.

The tribe maintains the casino would directly benefit people in the former Bennett Freeze area by providing jobs, a point the citizen’s group disputes.

The Navajo Nation Gaming Enterprise purchased a 405-acre tract of land on Aug. 16 and then deeded it to the Navajo Nation for no charge. The site will be leased back to the enterprise so it can build a $120 million resort and casino – the most ambitious of six gaming facilities planned by the enterprise – over the next two years.

The land has been put in trust by the Interior Department. Under federal laws, tribes can build casinos only on trust land.

Monestersky said the federal laws dealing with the establishment of the Rehabilitation Trust Fund and the land purchase specify that the money and land be used to benefit the Navajo families in the Bennett Freeze area. Her organization wants to be sure that any monies from the Twin Arrows project go to that purpose.

While the casino isn’t involved directly in the trust fund dispute, the litigation filed by the Forgotten People could have caused major problems in getting other financing to build the casino, said Bob Winter, CEO of the gaming enterprise.

The enterprise has obtained part of the financing from institutions that require the casino site has no encumbrances on it. The lis pendens notice would have announced that such encumbrances were in the offing.

“Any monies we pay to the tribe go into the general fund and we have no problem in having it to back to help the families living in the Bennett Freeze area if that is what the tribe wants to do with it.” Winter added.

The tribe’s policy, however, has been to funnel casino profits to Window Rock, with little of the money returning to the host chapter.

The Forgotten People asked Slayton to postpone his decision so the organization could hire an attorney, but Slayton instead ruled in favor of the Navajo Nation and quashe the motion.

Monestersky contends that the state court shouldn’t have acted as it did because the related case is open in tribal court. Attorney’s for the Phoenix law fim of Lewis and oca, representing the tribe, argued that it was imperative that the cloud hanging over the deed be lifted as soon as possible.

Monestersky said she could not understand why the state court had to make a decision so quickly since there was no emergency.

Winter said the legal dispute has had no effect on the casino financing and the project is on schedule.

Monestersky said her organization is continuing its efforts in tribal court to get an accounting of expenditures from the Rehabilitation Trust Fund.

While Navajo Nation officials wouldn’t discuss the trust fund since it is now involved in a lawsuit, they did talk about efforts to prod the federal government to fulfill its promises to provide funds to bring the infrastructure in the area up to modern standards.

About 6,000 Navajos live in the former Bennett Freeze area and endure conditions far below those in most of the U.S. Navajo officials say it will cost hundreds of millions of dollars to bring the freeze area up to scratch.

Roman Bitsui, director of the Navajo-Hopi Land Commission, cited a pledge by the areas representative in Congress, Ann Kirkpatrick, D-Ariz., to seek funding for infrastructure improvements in the former Bennett Freeze area.

The Forgotten People, however, want to know what happened to the millions already put into the Rehabilitation Trust Fund for the same purpose.

The Nation "Radioactive Revival New Mexico"

Will people ever learn?

Published on The Nation (http://www.thenation.com)

——————————————————–
Radioactive Revival in New Mexico
Shelley Smithson | June 10, 2009
JANNA BROWER

Research support for this article was provided by the Puffin Foundation Investigative Fund at The Nation Institute.

Mitchell Capitan points to a flock of sheep grazing in the shadow of a sandstone mesa. The sheep belong to Capitan’s family, along with a few head of cattle and twelve quarter horses standing in a corral near his mother-in-law’s house in Crownpoint, New Mexico.

“All of this area,” Capitan says, gesturing to the valley of sage and shrub brush below, “there’s a lot of uranium underneath there. That’s what they’re after.”

Capitan and his Navajo neighbors are battling a license granted by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to Hydro Resources Inc. (HRI)–a subsidiary of a Texas company, Uranium Resources–one of several firms that have laid claim to the minerals beneath thousands of acres on and around the lands of the Navajo Nation and three American Indian pueblos in northwestern New Mexico. A group called the Eastern Navajo Diné Against Uranium Mining is suing the NRC to block mining in Crownpoint and another Navajo community. A panel of federal judges in Denver heard the case in May 2008 but has yet to issue a ruling.

A resurgence of interest in building nuclear power plants, touted as a nonpolluting alternative to carbon-fueled plants, has sparked a uranium rush. Since 2007 the NRC has received seventeen license applications for twenty-six new reactors, causing a flurry of applications for uranium mining permits across the Four Corners region, where New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado meet. In February Energy Secretary Steven Chu announced that the Energy Department would expedite the approval process for $18.5 billion in federal loan guarantees for utilities that are building nuclear plants. The guarantees, along with other Bush-era incentives, are meant to spur construction of new plants.

The anticipated rise in demand for uranium has led the industry back to the very places it deserted three decades ago when it abandoned hundreds of mines, seven polluted uranium mills, billions of gallons of contaminated groundwater and mountains of radioactive waste. Congress is only now beginning to press agencies to clean up the mess, an undertaking that could cost taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars.

Plenty of people in this economically distressed corner of New Mexico are thrilled about the 8,000 new jobs and $1 billion in economic benefits the uranium industry promises. They point to claims made by industry lobbyists in a concerted PR campaign that new technology will make mining safer and that cast doubt on the connection between uranium mining and the illnesses that plague people who worked in mines and mills or lived near them.

Many others, especially American Indians like Capitan, remain unconvinced. They are afraid the companies will leave behind another trail of environmental destruction, illness and death like that of thirty years ago.

Sitting in his wood-paneled office in Window Rock, Arizona, Navajo Nation president Joe Shirley Jr., a tall, thin man with silver hair and a fierce opposition to uranium mining, declares, “I don’t believe there is any safe technology that can be used to mine uranium. Many of my people died because of mining of uranium ore here on Navajo land. Back at that time, the US government did not apprise my people of the dangers that are inherent with the mining of uranium ore. And as a result, a lot of people came down with cancer.” Shirley has watched several family members suffer from uranium-related illnesses. “It is devastating. It has wrecked the lives of our families,” he says.

He rejects the idea that mining is needed because it will bring jobs to the Navajo Nation, where the unemployment rate is around 50 percent. “How much is a life worth?” he says.

“If you can show me the cure for the cancer that is caused by the uranium ore, I might have second thoughts about it,” he says. Until then, the tribe will continue to fight the state and federal agencies that grant permits to uranium companies despite the opposition of American Indian communities.

Starting in 1942, much of the uranium used for atomic bombs being built in Los Alamos was mined in northwestern New Mexico. Between 1950 and 1979, the region yielded more yellowcake than any other place in the United States. Hundreds of uranium mines and seven mills–many of them on or near Indian land–stocked the government’s cold war atomic arsenal and, eventually, the nation’s nuclear power plants.

Though the region has always been poor, locals remember the uranium era as a prosperous time. People ate lunch at the Uranium Cafe in Grants, listened to country music on KMIN (pronounced K-mine) and built houses with scrap materials from the mines. On weekends Indian uranium workers and their families drove from the reservations to the border towns of Grants, Gallup and Farmington to shop.

But in 1979, everything changed. Public outcry over the near-meltdown at Three Mile Island plus construction cost overruns dealt the uranium industry a deathblow in a few short years. For thirty years no new nuclear plants were ordered in the United States. The nation’s 104 nuclear reactors bought cheap surplus uranium from government stockpiles and later from dismantled Soviet-era nuclear warheads.

The first uranium boom left a toxic legacy to the people of the area. Uranium workers, inadequately protected from the dangers of mining and milling, developed a range of maladies. Although the government knew of the health risks of radioactive dust–European studies from the 1920s and ’30s had linked uranium mining with lung cancer–officials did not require mine companies to ventilate shafts or to limit worker exposure to radon, the radioactive gas released during mining. Duncan Holaday, an industrial engineer at the Public Health Service, discovered that radon levels in US mines in the 1940s were as high as those found in European mines in the 1920s. “He tried to convince the mine operators and the Atomic Energy Commission that they were going to have a big epidemic here if they didn’t start ventilating the mines. But nobody paid much attention to him,” says Dr. Victor Archer, now in his 80s and living in Salt Lake City. Archer worked with Holaday for nearly two decades on an epidemiological study for PHS on the relationship between radon and lung cancer. Though he knew the miners were at risk of developing lung cancer, Archer says he was not allowed to warn the 2,500 men in the study about their unsafe work environments. “It was understood if we upset the miners…then the mine operators would not let us examine the miners,” he says.

The researchers repeatedly warned mine operators and state and federal mining officials of the dangers of working in unventilated mines. “We’d tell them about the European experience, and they’d say, ‘Those foreigners are different from our miners,'” Archer recalls. “Mostly they would object because to ventilate would cost them money.”

Just as the researchers warned, uranium workers developed lung cancers, as well as a long list of other ailments. In 1990, after fifteen years of litigation and lobbying by the families of deceased miners, Congress passed the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act, which provides payments of $100,000 to miners, millers and ore haulers who contracted specific lung diseases, as well as some millers and ore haulers diagnosed with certain renal diseases. Congress recognized the government’s failure to protect those who worked in “mines that were providing uranium for the primary use and benefit of the nuclear weapons program of the United States.” But the act covers just a fraction of those afflicted only before 1971, when the government stopped buying uranium for its weapons program and passed standards to limit worker radiation exposure. Post-1971 workers who suffer from the same illnesses say they too should be compensated. They claim that the government’s radiation limits were insufficient and that regulators did not force companies to follow rules intended to protect workers’ health.

The new uranium rush has resurrected antagonisms among Indians, Anglos and Hispanics and sparked a bitter war over the future of uranium mining in New Mexico. Many Indians say they were, and still are, treated as second-class citizens in stores, restaurants and businesses in border towns, where their sales taxes support city coffers. Non-Indians complain that Indians living on reservations do not pay property taxes yet are able to vote in school bond referendums, which often benefit reservation communities. There’s anger, too, about the prevalence of drunk driving on the roads between the reservations, where alcohol is illegal, and the border towns, where bars are plentiful. But few issues evoke more emotion than the prospect of uranium mining.

On a Saturday afternoon in June 2008, racial tensions simmered when 700 people packed into the high school gymnasium in Grants. The Route 66 town is home to 8,800 people, two prisons, a handful of 1950s-era motels and twice as many fast food restaurants. On one side of the gym sat a crowd of mostly American Indian residents, who had come from nearby communities to voice their opposition to proposed uranium mining near Mount Taylor. The 11,000-foot snowcapped peak rises above the stark badlands between Grants and Albuquerque and is sacred to five tribes in the Southwest–the Navajos, Acomas, Lagunas, Zunis and Hopis. Last year the Navajo Nation joined twenty other Southwestern tribes in opposing mining on Mount Taylor. Indians claim that protection of the mountain is crucial to their religions and cultures.

Many Indians fear that pollution from uranium mines and mills could contaminate the mountain springs, rivers and aquifers that supply water for crop irrigation, homes and businesses on their land. The Navajo Nation Council banned new uranium mining on Navajo land in 2005.

“If you contaminate our groundwater, where do we go for water after that?” Shirley demands.

In the bleachers on the other side of the gym sat mostly Anglo and Hispanic residents from Grants and neighboring towns. They were there to speak in support of mining and against a state plan to set aside the top of Mount Taylor as a culturally protected landmark.

In June state officials voted to make the cultural listing of the mountain permanent, a decision that could hinder uranium mining on private and public land within and adjacent to the cultural-property boundaries. That possibility led to a fierce campaign by the uranium industry that pitted Anglo and Hispanic landowners against the state and the tribes. Commenting on the move to designate Mount Taylor a traditional cultural property, industry lobbyist Marita Noon called it “a sneak attack, sadly perpetrated largely by Native Americans against white men.”

James Martinez of Albuquerque says state officials are placing Indian culture above all others. Martinez’s great-great-grandfather was born in a cave at the base of Mount Taylor on land given to Spanish settlers 300 years ago by the king of Spain. Twenty thousand acres were granted to several families, including the Martinez clan. But over the years, three-quarters of the Juan Tafoya Land Grant, as it was called, was lost to back taxes and sloppy paperwork or unscrupulously taken by Anglo lawyers and ranchers.

“Thirty-five years ago, my father made [the land grant] into a corporation,” Martinez explains. “He brought a lot of people back who lost their rights there.”

The land grant now totals 4,500 acres, including the village of Marquez–population zero. The Martinez family lived in Marquez until after World War II, when they moved to Albuquerque. Now all that remains of the village are a few empty houses, a vacant church, a closed post office and an abandoned school. Just beyond the village, beneath the icy mountain streams and ponderosa pines, is a uranium ore body estimated at 15 million pounds.

When Martinez was a teenager, a uranium company sank a shaft and built a mill near Marquez, but before any ore was pulled out of the ground the price of uranium collapsed. So too did the family’s dream of becoming wealthy. Then, four years ago, after two decades of uranium prices that averaged around $10 a pound, the price of uranium started to climb, reaching an all-time high in 2007 of $138 a pound. (It has since fallen with the price of other energy commodities to $49 a pound.) The 500 shareholders of the Juan Tafoya Land Grant voted to lease the land to Neutron Energy, a private uranium company based in Phoenix. The company, which plans to operate a shaft mine and a mill in the area, promises that technology and safer operating procedures will make mining and milling environmentally benign.

Martinez’s son Amadeo is already benefiting. Neutron gave him a scholarship to attend the University of New Mexico, where he is studying geology in hopes of working for the mine company. He plans to move back to the village of his ancestors someday. “I know the Natives. We’ve been accused [by them] up front of only looking for the fast dollar,” says James Martinez’s wife, Patricia. “We see it as a way to help the economy, to help our future, the next generation.”

From Linda Evers’s front yard she can see the snow-covered cap of Mount Taylor to the east. To the north her view is blocked by a ten-foot red fence that separates her property from the boundaries of the Homestake Mill Superfund site. Today all that remains of the closed uranium mill eight miles northwest of Grants are a few metal buildings and two earthen impoundments. Covering 240 acres, the Homestake impoundments, holding piles of tailings, are filled with 20 million tons of radioactive sludge generated by thirty years of milling uranium.

Evers, a former miner, miller and ore hauler, says she became a member of the Multicultural Alliance for a Safe Environment because she wanted the community to remember that uranium has sickened Anglos, Hispanics and Indians. Evers, who is Anglo, believes her degenerative bone disease and persistent skin rashes are linked to uranium exposure. “My daughter was born with no hips at all,” says Evers, whose son was also born with birth defects.

The multicultural alliance is composed of Indian, Anglo and Hispanic members of five grassroots organizations opposed to new mining. The group has given tours of contaminated areas to state officials, worked with lawmakers to craft legislation and testified before the state legislature about widespread groundwater pollution at Homestake Mill. Despite a three-decade remediation effort that has been overseen by the NRC and the Environmental Protection Agency, contamination from Homestake’s tailings has migrated to five regional aquifers. A 2008 report by the federal Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry declares the site a public health hazard and states, “even upon completion of the remediation, the levels of uranium and selenium will be above drinking water standards.”

This year, state environmental officials ordered people in Evers’s neighborhood to stop drinking well water. In addition to contamination from mill tailings, state officials are investigating whether radioactive pollution from abandoned uranium mines north of Homestake might be contributing to toxic underground plumes.

Fifty miles west of Grants, in the Navajo community of Church Rock, soil testing in 2007 revealed radiation levels so high that EPA crews wearing hazardous materials suits brought in backhoes to remove dirt from the yards of five families. The homes are located between two abandoned mines and a former mill that was the site of the largest radioactive spill in US history.

The residential dirt removal cost the government $1 million and was part of an EPA plan to clean up one of the two mines. Despite opposition from the community and the Navajo Nation, the NRC issued a permit allowing HRI of Dallas to begin new mining at the other abandoned mine.

Larry King, who lives nearby, testified in 2007 before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, which is pressing the EPA to clean up more than 500 abandoned mines on the Navajo Nation. King said, “The NRC ruled that the radiation from the [old mine] site doesn’t have to be included in [the permit’s] public dose calculations, that the wastes there are now part of ‘background,’ as if the Great Spirits had placed them there from the beginning of time…. I guess [NRC’s] mandate to protect the public health and safety just doesn’t apply to we Navajos.”

King’s neighbor Edith Hood, who was diagnosed with lymphoma in 2006, also implored Congress to halt the NRC’s approval of new mines in Navajo communities. “My father has pulmonary fibrosis. My mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer. My grandmother and grandfather died of lung cancer. Many of my family members and neighbors are sick, but we don’t know what from,” Hood said. “How can they open new mines when we haven’t even addressed the health impacts and environmental damage of the old ones?”

According to the EPA, long-term exposure to uranium and its radioactive byproducts has been linked to chronic lung and renal diseases and cancers. Uranium exposure may also cause tumors in the tissues where new blood cells are formed and in the lymphatic system. Long-term exposure to high levels of radium–a byproduct of uranium mining–may cause anemia, cataracts, fractured teeth, head and nasal passage tumors and bone cancer.

A 2000 study reported that two Navajo children exposed to uranium while in the womb suffered deadly central nervous system disorders. Their mother had unknowingly led the family’s sheep to water at uranium-contaminated springs and had drunk the water herself. Hood said she fears that traditional Navajo families, who raise and butcher sheep, may be eating meat that is poisoned with uranium and other heavy metals.

A federally funded project at the University of New Mexico is trying to determine if there is a connection between drinking uranium-tainted water and kidney disease. Many Navajos in northwestern New Mexico do not have running water, so they haul water in fifty-gallon barrels from public wells. Nearly one-quarter of these unregulated water sources likely contains unsafe levels of uranium, according to the US Indian Health Service.

It’s 10:02 on a crisp fall morning in Grants. Radio KMIN is on the air, playing “goo-ooo-ood country music.”

“Thanks for tuning in to KMIN,” says the effervescent announcer and station president, Derek Underhill. “It’s time for our public-service program on energy. Our experts are brought to you by CARE.” The mining-industry-backed CARE, the Citizens Alliance for Responsible Energy, is sponsoring an eight-week “educational series” on the community’s AM radio station, featuring one-hour interviews with uranium executives and mining-friendly lawyers, economists, academics and scientists.

The guest this morning is Steven Brown, a health physicist who has worked in the uranium industry for forty years. Brown is discussing a 1999 report by the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry. “[The report] states, and I quote, ‘No human cancer of any type has ever been seen as a result of exposure to natural or depleted uranium.'” Brown does not provide the next sentence in the report, which states, “Uranium can decay into other radionuclides, which can cause cancer if you are exposed to enough of them for a long enough period.”

Downplaying uranium-related illnesses and environmental pollution on the radio is only one move in the industry’s public-relations playbook. In public hearings and industry-sponsored “educational meetings,” the executive director of CARE, Marita Noon, claims environmentalists are using Indians as pawns to block mining and to keep the state’s residents poor. Noon, who was a Christian motivational speaker before becoming a self-proclaimed “advocate for energy,” says God put uranium in New Mexico so that Americans can wean themselves from Middle Eastern oil and Russian uranium.

Industry lobbyists also make their case to regulators and legislators. In March a New Mexico House committee tabled a bill that would have empowered state regulators to force companies to clean up their messes from decades ago. “The industry came out hard against it,” says Nadine Padilla, a lobbyist for several grassroots groups, including the Multicultural Alliance for a Safe Environment. Another failed bill would have created a permanent fund to clean up abandoned mines that are contributing to groundwater pollution.

At an NRC hearing in Albuquerque last fall, uranium lobbyist Adella Duran demonstrated the cozy relationship between the industry and some lawmakers. Duran stood at the podium and told an NRC panel that she had been asked by representative to the New Mexico Legislature John Heaton to speak on his behalf.

“He wasn’t able to be here tonight,” she explained. “He knew that I was going to be here in a different capacity, and so he has asked me on his behalf, for the record, to read a letter that he has written to [NRC] Chairman Klein.”

After reading the statement by Heaton, who is chair of the State House Radioactive and Hazardous Materials Committee, she moved to the other side of the podium and spoke on behalf of her clients, the uranium industry, urging the NRC to expedite its permit process for new mines.

The industry is peddling influence at the local level, too. Both Homestake and HRI have hired the Albuquerque public relations firm D.W. Turner to bolster their images as good corporate citizens. Homestake established a “Little Miners” program to fund classroom projects at the Grants elementary school; both firms support numerous nonprofit organizations, from literacy programs to domestic violence shelters to crisis pregnancy centers.

“They’re going around handing out checks to people, to businesses, nongovernmental organizations, a lot of social programs that have been starved,” says Chris Shuey, a community organizer with the Southwest Research and Information Center, an Albuquerque-based advocacy group. Shuey, who is often referred to by CARE’s executive director as an “environmental zealot,” says he has watched the debate devolve into an atmosphere of racial divisiveness and hate. “There’s been demonizing and just meanness and ruthlessness against people who have been upstanding citizens,” he says. “They say there are rabid environmentalists. There is nobody as rabid as these pro-uranium people.”

Mitchell Capitan stands at the end of a washboard road and points to a large water tank perched atop a mesa in his hometown of Crownpoint. There are no major rivers in this part of the state, and since most people do not have a well, every day residents from the surrounding area come to the community well and haul water to their homes. An estimated 15,000 residents draw water from the Crownpoint well.

Mining “is going to be a big risk because our main aquifer is the sole drinking water for this community,” says Capitan. “We have good clean water.”

Instead of sinking a shaft or digging a pit, HRI plans to extract uranium by injecting bicarbonate solution into the sandstone aquifer–just one-quarter mile from the municipal well. The injection will release uranium from the rocks, where it has been encased for eons.

The company claims the process, called in situ recovery (ISR), is as safe as pumping baking soda underground. But the solution also mobilizes heavy metals, including arsenic, selenium and molybdenum, all of which are pumped to the surface then back into the ground after the uranium is extracted. Opponents worry that water contaminated with uranium and heavy metals will travel through underground channels to the village well 1,500 feet away, just as radioactive plumes from mines and mills have sullied aquifers to the south in the Grants and Church Rock areas.

HRI’s parent company, Uranium Resources, has used the technology for thirty years at mines in South Texas. Richard Abitz, a geochemist who advises opponents of ISR mining in Texas, Colorado and on the Sioux Indian Reservation in Nebraska, says no ISR operation has ever restored the underground water at a mine site to its original condition. State and federal regulators routinely amend allowable levels of uranium and heavy metals after restoration efforts fall short, he said. In Texas, Goliad and Kleberg counties are trying to force uranium companies, including Uranium Resources, to clean up aquifer contamination from previous ISR operations.

Meanwhile, the NRC is considering a plan that would expedite the environmental review process for ISR operations nationwide, a move opposed by the New Mexico Environment Department. At a hearing on the issue last year, Capitan stood up and implored Navajos to unite against uranium mining. “Let’s be banded together in one and protect our land and our water, because water is sacred,” he said.

“How about if there was no water?” Capitan continued. “We can’t live. We might have a million dollars right here, and I’m thirsty–which one am I going to take? I’m going to drink that water.”

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Source URL: http://www.thenation.com/article/radioactive-revival-new-mexico6 10 09 The Nation Radioactive Revival in New Mexico

Coconino Judge Rules Against Forgotten People Over Casino

Coconino Judge Rules Against Forgotten People Over Casino

12/1/10

By Kathy Helms
Dine Bureau
Gallup Independent

WINDOW ROCK – A Coconino County Superior Court judge refused to grant Forgotten People President Don Yellowman a motion for continuance Tuesday and quashed a lis pendens on the Twin Arrows Casino parcel filed by the grassroots group.

The Navajo Nation, through the Lewis and Roca law firm of Phoenix, filed suit against Yellowman, personally, on Nov. 16, claiming that the lis pendens was wrongful and asking the state court to quash it. Yellowman was asked to show cause at a hearing Tuesday afternoon before Superior Court Judge Dan Slayton.

Forgotten People filed the lis pendens Oct. 22 with the Coconino County Recorder. The lis pendens targets the deed to the Twin Arrows property and references a specific trust obligation for the benefit of the survivors of the Navajo-Hopi Land Dispute.

In affidavits submitted as exhibits by the Navajo Nation, Controller Mark Grant stated that the Investment Committee of the Navajo Nation authorized an investment of $100 million from the Master Trust Fund to finance the development and construction of the Twin Arrows property on July 12, and that the Budget and Finance Committee approved the investment July 26.

An affidavit from Navajo Gaming Enterprise CEO Robert Winter states that the enterprise bought the 405.61 acre tract of land on Aug. 16, and on Aug. 25 “gifted” it to the Navajo Nation with the understanding that the Twin Arrows property would be leased back to the Gaming Enterprise so that the Enterprise could proceed with its development plans.

Winter also stated that the Enterprise has obtained financing that requires it to demonstrate in advance that the Twin Arrows property has no liens or encumbrances that negatively impact the title to the property. The mere appearance of the notice of lis pendens “creates a cloud on title” and unless the notice is immediately removed, he said, the Enterprise would not be able to meet the conditions for its financing and might lose approximately $100 million in funding for the development of the Twin Arrows property.

Yellowman filed an affidavit Monday with Coconino County Superior Court claiming the court didn’t have jurisdiction to hear the case and also filed a motion for continuance so he could have time to secure legal representation. Marsha Monestersky, program manager for Forgotten People, said Tuesday after Slayton’s ruling that it’s “inexcusable” for the judge not to have granted a motion to continue in light of the Thanksgiving holiday. “We were trying to find an attorney but we couldn’t,” she said.

Yellowman maintained that the filing of the lis pendens was proper because it related to issues brought in a pending lawsuit and that the Coconino County court “does not have jurisdiction to second-guess the Navajo Nation judicial system on the nature of matters pending before it.”

“We’ll still move on with our suit on the Navajo Nation; it doesn’t affect that. That’s improper use of the Rehabilitation Trust Fund,” Monestersky said.

Nancy Scott, daughter of Betty Scott whose property lies next door to the proposed Twin Arrows site, said she was very disappointed that she wasn’t allowed to speak at the hearing or to ask questions. “We’re just never heard,” she said, adding that her mother is one of 12 complainants in a lawsuit pending in the Navajo Nation court system.

Despite the setback, Yellowman said, “We stood up to the Navajo Nation. We didn’t back down. Our tail is not between our legs. We’ve got a little wiggle still left in our tail.”

Newsweek Liquid Assset Big Business and the Race to Control World's Water

Please copy and paste the link that follows to read Newsweek’s article about Big Business and the Race to Control World’s Water.

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