Peru | The Guardian of the Mountain Lakes

Daniel Chaupe carefully steers the white taxi toward the barrier at the Chailhuagon lagoon in Peru, where a small guardhouse has been installed. "This may be a public road, but they control everything here," whispers the gaunt young man. This is the largest mining company in the Cajamarca region: the Yanacocha gold mine. The gigantic mine, in operation since 1993, has left deep scars on the landscape. The bright craters can be seen from virtually every elevation around the ancient Inca city of Cajamarca. Daniel Chaupe lives there and earns his living as a taxi driver and casual laborer.

Today he's on his way to his parents' house, and the guard at the barrier lets him through after a quick glance at his ID. "Lucky me," Daniel explains with a helpless laugh. Early this morning, he loaded firewood into the back of the pickup truck, packed matches and a few other things, and set off for breakfast at his parents' small farm. It's located next to an alpaca breeding station, separated by a sturdy steel fence.

It's windy, and wisps of fog drift across the meadows covered in thick mosses and grasses at about 4,000 meters above sea level. The four-wheel-drive taxi slowly sways along the dirt road, at the end of which stands a small woman wrapped in a blanket: Máxima Acuña. Next to her stands a sturdy man, his hat pulled low over his forehead to avoid the light drizzle. Daniel greets his parents warmly and, like everyone else, disappears behind the protective tarpaulin, behind which a small fire blazes.

"They came onto our property and once even destroyed the house. They treated us badly and beat us."

Máxima Acuña

Potato soup, fresh, fluffy cheese, and some coffee are served for breakfast. The warm meal is comforting after the almost four-hour drive from the center of the ancient Inca city of Cajamarca. The Inca Atahualpa ruled there and in Cusco, 2,000 kilometers away, until the Spanish kidnapped him in 1532, traded him for vast quantities of gold, and then massacred him shortly afterwards. Cajamarca has never lost its connection to gold. Today, its symbol is Yanacocha: the largest gold mine in Latin America. It literally towers over the city of 230,000 inhabitants. For more than 30 years, companies have been mining the region's riches from the rocks. And to this end, the powerful mine, backed by the US company Newmont Corporation, has also reached out to acquire the property owned by Máxima Acuña and Jaime Chaupe.

In the sights

"I bought the land from my husband's uncle in 1994. I can prove it with the purchase contract," explains the small woman, barely more than 1.5 meters tall, with great routine. "I've said that sentence a hundred times between 2010, when it all began, and today," adds the lively woman with the optimistic twinkling eyes. Until 2010, the Acuña-Chaupe family – two adults and four children – lived quietly on the approximately 25-hectare property. Jaime Chaupe grew potatoes, beans, and some vegetables, a few rabbits and chickens, of course, but also kept sheep, cows, and donkeys. Every now and then, the couple would walk to one of the markets with one of the donkeys as a pack animal, to sell and buy. This is called subsistence farming, and the couple was content with it – despite the cold and the harsh climate between the mountain lakes.

But in 2010, security guards showed up for the first time, and heavy equipment was brought near the family's rickety house. Máxima Acuña then took the initiative, grabbed her purchase agreement, drove down to Cajamarca to the offices of the Yanacocha company, and insisted on speaking to a senior engineer. "I wanted clarity, an end to all the pending mining work on and around my property," she recalls.

But the first thing she was told was that the entire land belonged to the company and had been bought up. No one listened to her, no one took the indigenous woman with the wide-brimmed hat seriously. "Later, they came back here to our property, destroyed things, once even the house. They treated us badly, me, my husband, my children. They even beat us," she explains in a shaky voice. Acuña is certain that they tried to drive her away. Then she drinks something from her coffee mug and shakes herself as if trying to shake off the bad memories. "They kept saying we were illegal squatters," she complains with a tired wave of her hand.

She's exhausted and wants to finally live in peace. "But they won't let me," complains the woman, whom many in the neighborhood simply call "the lady of the blue lagoon." The blue lagoon is one of four lagoons surrounding her property.

Committed to water

Water is essential for the lively woman of about 55. She is accustomed to drinking from the small stream that gurgles past the front of the house. This is normal for all neighbors in the region. But the vast majority have sold their land to the Yanacocha mine. This is also one reason why the company is not giving up and tried to evict the Acuña-Chaupe family, first by force and, when that failed, by legal means.

But Máxima Acuña and Jaime Chaupe are still here. After the two were sentenced to two years and eight months in prison for land occupation in the first instance court of Celendín, their municipality, in July 2014, the appeal hearing followed six months later in Cajamarca. This made Máxima Acuña a nationally known woman, because the all-powerful mining company lost the spectacular trial. Acuña's land title was recognized, and she and her husband were able to leave the courthouse as free people. This was due not only to the international attention but also to the experienced environmental lawyer Mirtha Vásquez.

The trial marked a turning point in Peru's jurisprudence and in the handling of a gigantic $4.8 billion investment project. "This would have permanently disrupted the region's water supply," said Mirtha Vásquez, who continues to work on the case. "At least four lagoons, square kilometers of pastureland crisscrossed by waterways, and even several mountain ridges were to disappear. The entire water supply of the region is at stake with this project," Vásquez said at a meeting in Cajamarca in the spring.

At the time, the lawyer and university lecturer was once again busy with one of the appeals proceedings that the company regularly commissions. "They're not letting up," explains Vásquez, and Máxima Acuña is also feeling the effects. "We have to continue to defend ourselves, in civil proceedings, pay a lawyer, and appear in court regularly. It's expensive and tiring," says Acuña, briefly rubbing her son Daniel's back. The children support their parents as best they can, as money for the litigation is tight, even though Máxima Acuña was awarded the world's most important environmental prize, the Goldman Environmental Prize, in 2016. "But almost everything went into the lawsuits," explains the small woman, squeezing the water out of the cheese she intends to give to her son later. Cheese, a chicken or two – the two parents can actually always spare that, but how things will continue in the long term, they don't know either.

"Corruption is increasing in Peru, mining almost always takes priority, we're under pressure," says Máxima Acuña, and her husband Jaime Chaupe agrees. "We've lost our President Pedro Castillo, and now a clique is in power here that has its own interests in mind," says the rather taciturn man. This is consistent with the assessment of Mirtha Vásquez, who knows full well that work on the Conga project is continuing behind the scenes. "In February, Dina Boularte, our interim president, met with the executives of the Newmont Corporation at the World Economic Forum in Davos. That's not a good sign," she says.

Given the extremely investor-friendly stance of the current government, which is known for its corruption scandals, Vásquez is worried about her former client. She is depressed as she walks her son and the visitor to the car after a walk through the blooming potato field. One last hug, then Daniel gets back behind the wheel.