BY VANESSA VANDEVER
I was born into an extractive economy and raised by my grandmother, the last child of Manymules who settled on Dziłíjiin — Black Mesa — in the mid-1800s. People say that my grandmother was born around 1902, and in 1971 she stood with great sadness and anger in front of the sacred lands she was born on and where her parents were buried, now all mined. Her photo was taken by Earth magazine and became the cover image for their March 1971 edition.
Many of my relatives, including my father, worked at the coal mine, and some have passed on from coal-mining-related illnesses like black lung and cancer. Many residents of the area where Peabody Energy leases land to mine coal, like myself and my four-year-old daughter, suffer from asthma due to the constant explosions and mining activities in our backyard. Despite the health and environmental effects, the coal-miner pride is evident because miners have provided for their families with some of the only high-paying jobs on the Navajo Nation. Coal from Peabody Energy’s Kayenta Mine powers Navajo Generating Station; the power plant provides the electricity to pump Colorado River water to cities like Phoenix and Tucson, and it also pollutes the air on the Navajo Nation and at Grand Canyon National Park.
My affiliation with Grand Canyon Trust began with an internship in the early 2000s, and it was here that my advocacy for Black Mesa became structured. I found a voice and an internal place where I began to connect historical trauma to how we function as families, communities, and government entities. I moved away from Black Mesa for several years to go to Stanford, and to work, and watched the inequality continue to grow from afar. I finally moved home in 2014 without any thought about how I would support myself because all my husband and I were driven by was being active participants in our Diné culture. When I told Grand Canyon Trust Native America Program Director Tony Skrelunas, a lifelong mentor, that I was moving back to Black Mesa, he gave me the opportunity to reconnect with my culture and advocate for those without a voice in this extractive economy by rehiring me. Leaders like Tony are crucial to providing community-driven solutions to transition away from an extractive economy. I am so grateful to the Trust for making it possible for my family to live off the land once again and to plant an awareness in my daughter that she can only get from living in the home I inherited from my grandmother on Black Mesa.
Coal Mine for Navajo Generating Station. DOC SEARLS.
My pure happiness at moving home was quickly replaced with shock that my home had become a dumping ground, literally. Somehow the decades of coal extraction had led people from all over the Navajo reservation to feel entitled not to just take resources but to dump garbage. As a kid, I remember coming across ponds of oil dumping and now, as an adult, I realized we had become our own worst enemy. Many times I drive by the public drinking water well where people come for miles to get water for their homes and their animals but instead I see people washing their vehicles and even the UPS truck stops daily for a wash. It’s emotionally draining to see water running from wells and people dumping unwanted animals and hazardous materials without any enforcement.
Many local people express their frustration that their own Navajo government, including local chapter governments, have deserted them decades ago and feel that only Peabody Energy, the mine owner, makes an effort to assist by providing maintenance on the existing infrastructure, such as water wells and roads, coal and wood to heat homes in winter, and help with family events and emergencies. Very few of the people living within the Peabody lease area see direct economic benefits like jobs and royalty payments for their grazing lands, but it’s the community relations program that has left Peabody as the only entity on the side of the local people. Now it is up to corporations like Peabody to not only fulfill their obligations post shutdown but to demonstrate that they are on the side of the local people by taking their responsibilities seriously.
NGOs have ideas on ways to repurpose the reclaimed areas and to provide economic stimulus through tourism and utility-scale solar development, yet the local people continue to be left out of those conversations. The only organization that exists to support those most impacted is Black Mesa United (BMU) but they have found minimal contributions toward their efforts. BMU captured rare video stories of survival from Black Mesa elders impacted by coal mining.
Our story on Black Mesa is the story of many communities around the world — we are all forced to live with an irresolvable dichotomy in order to survive in a patriarchal neoliberal system.
The impending closure of the Kayenta Mine brings fear to some people, but for those who have the mine in their backyard, we see this as an opportunity to heal. The dynamite blasts will come to an end, dust, coal ash, and air and water pollution will lessen, and slowly the wildlife and medicinal plants will return. As inhabitants of Earth, we must make daily efforts to connect to Mother Earth and one another with compassion and respect. We will heal when Mother Earth begins to heal.
A graduate of Stanford University, Vanessa Vandever previously served as a Native America Program manager for the Grand Canyon Trust.
EDITOR'S NOTE: The views expressed by Advocate contributors are solely their own and do not necessarily represent the views of the Grand Canyon Trust.
