The 2 faces of Solwezi
Manjimela lost her son when he fell into a pit dug by the mining company in front of her house. |
Kampelembe standing where his house once stood before the bulldozers came. |
Mavumbo points to the number on his house. The number indicates that the house must be demolished to pave way for mining operations. |
By Jack Zimba
It
is touted to become the biggest mining operation on the continent when it is
finally commissioned, with a capital investment of about US$2 billion, Zambia’s
largest single investment ever.
The
Trident project in Senior Chief Musele’s area in North Western Province is one
of the most ambitious mining undertakings by First Quantum Minerals (FQM) – a Canadian
multinational that has quantum-leaped from a small operation at Bwana Mkubwa in
Ndola, into the mega mine that is FQM today.
The
mining giant is currently operating Kansanshi Copper Mine (KCM), about 10
kilometres outside Solwezi town, the capital of North Western Province, and has
become one of the most significant contributors to the country’s treasury.
Since 2006, the mine has contributed over K10 billion to Zambia’s economy.
It
is a figure the mine owners recite every so often when they talk about the
significance of their operation to the Zambian economy. And the prospects for
the mine seem brighter still.
It is
envisaged that in the next few years, FQM, which is currently bigger than Rio
Tinto, Anglo American and BHP Billiton, will become the largest mining company
on the planet.
According
to Bruce Lewis, who is the mine’s social responsibility manager, the mining
giant is currently negotiating a takeover of the world’s biggest mine in
Panama, South America.
Sitting
at the mine’s exclusive golf club restaurant in Solwezi, with its picturesque
golf course and mouth-watering dishes, Lewis paints a perfect picture of the
mining company, with a social responsibility bar that is higher than any other private
company in the country.
But
drive 150km west of Solwezi to Senior Chief Musele’s area and one gets a
different picture of Zambia’s largest mining investor.
Here,
there is growing anger and resentment towards the mining giant, which the
locals accuse of grabbing their land and of not sharing the benefits from the
mineral wealth.
The
villagers have formed a taskforce to defend themselves against the mining
giant’s perceived invasion of their land.
The
taskforce is headed by Robson Ilunga, a no-nonsense-looking man with a
combatant attitude. He led me to some villagers facing removal from their homes
at the mine’s order. On our way, we passed several demolished houses, whose
owners have already been relocated.
Graham
Kampelembe, who had his house destroyed in July, says he was only paid K1,000
plus a small house built by the mine as compensation. He showed me a heap of mud
bricks on the roadside where his house once stood before the bulldozers came.
But
others, like Christine Mulalu, who is headwoman for Konyanga village, are
refusing to move. Mulalu says the land where the mine is resettling them is too
small – just about 20mx40m for each household. And it is land, she says, that
still belongs to the mining company.
But
it is the story of Rhoda Manjimela that was most distressing. She lost her
two-year-old child when he fell in a pit dug by the mine in front of her house.
It’s now been two years and she claims the only money she received from FQM was
K1,000 to cover the funeral costs for her child.
Her
anger against the investor quickly gives way to grief and her eyes well up as
she talks about her dead child. “The mine people killed my child,” she
says.
Manjimela’s
anger is shared by many in her
community
and as I spoke to her, I was suddenly surrounded by an angry crowd of men and
women all speaking against the mining company and vowing they will never move
from their land. Others, however, say they would move if they were given
adequate compensation. The villagers do not speak with one voice on the issue
of compensation or even the relocation programme, making it hard to separate
truth from falsehood.
But
Lewis says the compensation amounts the mine has paid out have, in many cases,
exceeded the rates stipulated by the ministry of agriculture, and that the mine
has helped resettled families to venture into income-generating activities such
as poultry.
“We
make sure their lives are better than they were before,” Lewis told me.
And
there have been reports in the media in the past of some villagers praising the
mine’s resettlement programme.
The
taskforce, however, accuses the mine bosses of working with a few “weak people”
among the villagers who have been paid to speak well of FQM. “It is these same
people,” says Ilunga, “who are paraded before the journalists who are brought
here by the mine, so what do you expect?”
Ilunga
also accuses the mine bosses of having little regard for the traditional
leadership, including the senior chief.
But
who really is to blame for the land wrangle in the Musele chiefdom?
Some
accuse Senior Chief Musele, himself, of being responsible for the problem after
he signed the agreement to allow FQM, through its subsidiary, Kalumbila
Minerals Limited, acquire 518km/sq of land for the Trident project. But Chief
Musele says he signed the agreement under duress just two months before the
country went to the polls in 2011, which saw the MMD exit from power. It was,
perhaps, a last-minute attempt by the previous administration to impress voters
in North Western Province, where its fortunes had seriously declined over the
years.
But
one senior government official in the province told me, matter-of-factly, that
Chief Musele did receive a huge sum as inducement from the mining company in
order to sign the land deal.
The
senior chief is also rumoured to have demanded a plane and an air strip near
his palace from the investor in exchange for the land.
The
softly-spoken Lunda chief, however, dismisses such allegations, challenging his
accusers to produce evidence of the bribery. “I have documents to show what
happened,” he argues.
And
many of his subjects, like Ilunga, are quick to jump to the chief’s defence.
Chief
Musele has always claimed to be a victim in the whole land affair and has been
an outspoken critic of FQM’s conduct in his area, accusing the mining company
of destroying his cattle.
His
narrative of what happened is nothing short of drama.
It
was a cold July night in 2011 - around 23:00 hours – when he was visited at his
palace by the district commissioner for Solwezi at that time and the country
manager for FQM, Gen. Kingsley Chinkuli. This was after about a year of the
chief resisting demands by government that he give up 950km/sq of land to the
mining company. That demand was later reduced to 750km/sq.
At a
meeting with the Environmental Council of Zambia (now Zambia Environmental
Agency) held in March 2011, Senior Chief
Musele had vowed that he would not sign the land deal because the land being
asked for by the mining company was too much and suggested that they take up
only 500km/sq.
But,
according to Chief Musele, the two messengers told him in no uncertain terms
that the government wanted him to quickly sign the land deal in order for the ruling
party to win votes in the province.
The
chief says there were threats issued against him if he refused to sign.
“They
told me that ‘if you don’t sign, the government will be on your neck’,” he
says.
Later
the same month, the chief was taken to Solwezi and booked at the Solwezi Royal
Hotel where the government and the mining company tried to persuade him to give
up the huge track of land.
“For
three days I resisted to sign,” he says.
Finally
they agreed to sign for 518km/sq, which the chief says he only signed because
he was afraid.
“I
was afraid because I had no security and it was in the night,” he told me. According to the chief, the agreement was
signed between 21:00 and 22:00 hours.
He
says as a way of rewarding him for signing the land deal, FQM had proposed to
build him a palace, but he refused, demanding shares in the company, instead.
His demand was never met.
“I
wanted the whole community to benefit, that is why I refused a palace,” he
says.
The
agreement also gave guidelines regarding the operation of the mine in relation
to the local population. According to Chief Musele, part of the agreement was
that the mine would not displace people, disturb their burial sites or close
roads.
However,
two months after the agreement was signed, the mining company “became
impossible” and started reneging on the agreement, says the chief.
To
date, over 50 people in the chiefdom have been displaced and resettled by the
mining company.
Bowas
Mavumbo is a community leader in Kankonji, and like the other villagers that I met,
he is defiant and strongly opposed to any plans to resettle him.
“I
was born here and I’m not going anywhere,” says the 59-year-old.
Yet,
Mavumbo’s small mud house, like many others in his village, has already been
marked with a number – it is marked for destruction to pave way for development
by the mine.
How
long his defiance will hold is hard to tell, but each morning, Mavumbo wakes to
the sound of huge earthmoving machines passing by his numbered house. His days
living on his ancestral land may well be numbered, too.
At
an impromptu meeting in Kankonji, that had attracted a sizable crowd, another
community leader, Best Kakusa, warned of bloodshed if the government did not
intervene to help the people.
“It’s
like the investor is more important to the government than the local people,”
he complained.
Some
of the locals now talk of picking up axes and machetes to defend their land.
And if that fails we will use witchcraft, they say. It is perhaps a clear sign
of desperation and despondency among the villagers, who accuse the government
of not paying much attention to their situation.
“People
have lost tampers, anything can happen,” says Ilunga. “We are like slaves in
our own land.”
What
has incensed the villagers even more is the decision by Kalumbila Mine to lay
two huge pipelines – about a metre in diameter – across an important access
road that connects three chiefdoms, namely Musele, Ntambo and Sailung’a.
“Even
the rivers in this area have been blocked – they don’t belong to us any more,
they belong to the mine. And when we try to go and fish there, they chase us
with dogs,” says Mavumbo.
And
for the young people in the area who hoped the coming of the mine would bring
the much-needed jobs, it has not happened, at least not for them.
Brighton
Chaba, 35, has been seeking employment at the mine as an electrician the past
two years, but without luck. He says the problem is that the mine recruits its
workforce online and the villagers have no access to internet.
Chaba
says the number of young people seeking employment at the mine in the area now
exceeds 300 – a good number of them migrants from other parts of the province.
Chaba, himself, came from Mwinilunga, one of the furthermost districts in the
province.
But
Lewis says his company finds it hard to employ locals because most of the jobs
are specialised, requiring skilled labour – skills which most locals do not
possess.
The
mine is, however, now providing relevant skills training to locals to prepare
them for jobs in the mining industry. But that is long term and the villagers
want jobs now. And the lack of jobs for locals seems only to add to the anger
among the villagers.
I
witnessed some of that anger when a condescending driver of a huge grader
working on a road refused to give way to our vehicle. Tempers flared, with
bitter exchange of words between the locals and the driver of the grader, who
spoke in Congolese-accented Bemba.
The
conflict between the locals in Chief Musele’s area and FQM brings to question
the conduct of multinationals in relation to poor communities where they
operate.
Chief
Musele says he feels intimidated by the mine owners because they are powerful
and seem to have a clout with the government.
Paul
Fitsher is a Swiss national who worked in the mines on the Copperbelt before
Zambia’s independence and is now involved in campaigns against some
multinationals back in Switzerland.
On
his recent visit to Zambia, Fitsher said there was need for international
regulation for multinationals in order to protect poor countries where they
operate.
Fitsher
has been involved in campaigns against multinationals like Nestle and Glencco
Xstrata, the mining giant that also owns Mopani Copper Mine, back in his home
country.
And Dr
Chris Muyunda, who is a mining and environmental expert, says what needs to be
done about the Kalumbila project is to carry out a strategic environmental
impact assessment which, he says, would take into account all the concerns
being raised by the villagers of Musele chiefdom and reduce the tension.
One
thing is true, though, land is always an emotive subject everywhere and the
night before I met the subjects of Chief Musele, I had listened to Chief Mumena
of the Kaonde people at his palace make impassioned pleas over land. At one
point the chief’s voice began to crack and he had to briefly stop speaking in
order to regain his composure.
The
chief’s major concern is the way the mines ministry is issuing exploration
licenses in his chiefdom without consulting him. He says even the land on which
his palace sits has been given up for mineral exploration.
“The
entire province is already taken up,” he says. “I’m yet to know which part is
not taken up.”
“Where
do I take the people if the exploration licenses are sitting back-to-back all
over? If we turn all these exploration areas into mines, aren’t we choking
ourselves?” the chief asks, his voice filled with frustration.
His
warning over mishandling land issues is mythical yet believable: “This land is
a living thing,” he says, “if you mishandle it, it will respond in its own
way.”
But
this is the blessed curse the villagers in Chief Musele’s area and elsewhere in
the province have to deal with: their villages sit on abundant mineral
deposits.
North
Western Province is said to be the next “Copperbelt Province”, although some
argue the province has more copper deposits than the actual Copperbelt Province
ever had. Chief Mumena thinks “copperfields” and not “copperbelt” is a more
befitting term for North Western Province, “because anywhere you throw a stone,
you will find mineralisation there”.
There
may be some exaggeration in the chief’s assessment, but the huge investments in
the province all point to its abundant mineral wealth, although, frankly
speaking, there is a huge disparity between the investment taking place at the
mining sites and the infrastructure obtaining in Solwezi town.
Apart
from a few banks that have recently opened business and countless nondescript
lodges, Solwezi has remained a one-street town now chocking up with traffic and
a huge influx of traders and prostitutes following the copper money.
“This
is frustrating to us because the money we pay in taxes does not come back to
Solwezi,” says Lewis. His frustration is shared by Chief Mumena who thinks
Solwezi is getting a raw deal, with a lot of urbanization taking place without
modernisation.
“It’s like we are developing a large
shanty,” he says.
Solwezi
is also waking up to the challenges of urbanization such as a surge in violent crime.
During my visit – on October 31 – two bandits were gunned down by police after
a botched armed robbery. They were both identified as Congolese nationals who
traded in shoes during the day and put on balaclava to transform into bandits
during the night.
The
once quiet town of Solwezi is now a hive of activity enough to overwhelm even
the most prying journalist.
But
there may be a story that the journalists who are flown by the mining giant to
report on its activities in Chief Musele’s area are not telling. There may be
truth the government is not revealing. It is hard to know the truth when all
the parties involved point an accusing finger at each other. And, so, I leave
Solwezi with a dreadful sinking feeling that maybe I, too, may have missed the real
story.
But
one thing is clear; Solwezi is a place of two stories. The story of Bruce Lewis
talking excitedly about the gains and prospects of FQM; and the story of Rhoda
Manjimela, who is still grieving over the loss of her child and now faces
possible displacement from the place of her birth, all in the name of mining.
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