By Navajo Times | Sep 19, 2024 | News |
By Donovan Quintero Special to the Times
https://navajotimes.com/reznews/elder-red-water-pond-water-family-members-say-no-to-uranium-mining/
Bertha Nez, 78, from Red Water Pond Road, north of Church Rock, N.M., speaks on Friday about her home and how uranium mining impacted her entire life. Special to the Times | Donovan Quintero
WINDOW ROCK — Bertha Nez grew up herding sheep on pristine lands not yet touched by the uranium boom. Nez was born in a hogan in 1946, near the area now known as Red Water Pond Road, which is north of Church Rock, New Mexico.
For about nine years, Nez remembers living a happy life that consisted of herding sheep, moving to the top of the mesa to their summer camp every summer, collecting medicinal herbs along the hills and hillside, and attending boarding school. Then one day, they heard the sound of trucks.
“We were only kids when it started. Óondáʼniilkáádóó, nléíó chidi ndáájééh, exploration or something. Áko, they go all over the place in the woods,” said Nez. “That’s how it started.”
Before mining companies like United Nuclear Corporation and Kerr-McGee began ripping the lands apart and excavating, Bertha enjoyed the freedom of the seemingly endless eminence she called home: Łichii Dééz Áhí.
Special to the Times | Donovan Quintero
A “No Uranium Mining” sign is placed along U.S. Route 89 near Cameron, Ariz. The sign indicates a stance the Navajo Nation agrees with. There are over 100 abandoned uranium mine claims in the Western AUM Region and centered around the Cameron area.
Nez reminisced about the idyllic summers spent in the forest and plateau, where summer camps and family gatherings were a staple of life.
“We had a summer camp up there. We used to camp up there, we moved up there in winter. That’s what we like. My grandpa went way down the canyon, built a little hogan out there to herd sheep down there,” Nez shared. “So, we went back and forth here, and we liked all the trees and the plants. And there were birds, hummingbirds all around.”
‘Just a mine,’ uranium transported
The commercial exploration, development, and mining of uranium began in 1957, according to the U.S. EPA. Between 1960 and 1962 during its first phase, a total of 77,965 tons of ore was mined from underground mines. The second phase, which spanned from 1963 to 1982, produced an even larger total of 238,286 tons of ore. During this phase, mined ore was transported approximately three miles northeast along State Route 566 to the United Nuclear Corporation uranium mill located at Northeast Church Rock.
“We didn’t know what was going on. ‘It’s just a mine,’ hxá’nóo. We didn’t know what it was,” Nez said.
Special to the Times | Donovan Quintero
Teddy Nez, Bertha Nez’s ex-husband, speaks on Friday about how uranium mining impacted his wife’s family and their homestead at Red Water Pond Road.
Bertha and her family went about their lives which was a steady lifestyle, filled with happy childhood memories of herding sheep, playing on the mesas, and being with family.
However, this nostalgia is now clouded by the harsh reality of contamination that has rendered the land almost uninhabitable and changed their relationship with it.
They had no idea the shady mining practices of Kerr-McGee and United Nuclear Company were creating a disastrous setting that would forever impact all their lives and the place they called home.
When remediation efforts began, Nez said six inches of soil had to be removed from around their homes. Eventually, they began replanting the area with what they were told was native to the area.
“They planted these plants; it grew back all kinds of different flowers. They said it’s native plants, but we never seen some of those plants,” she said. “I was going to walk through the bushes, but I got scared because we have prairie dogs, and we have snakes. You don’t know where you’re walking.”
‘Stillness of everything’
Years of strife followed the contamination, forcing families to relocate multiple times in efforts to seek safety and cleaner living conditions. Nez expressed frustration at being disbelieved about her family’s history and connection to the land. She said they had to prove to officials their roots were in the heart of the contaminated sites left by uranium mining.
“We had to go back to 1936 to prove that our grandparents lived here,” she explained, as they gathered photographs to validate their claims and illustrate the long-standing presence of her family in the area before the contamination.
Despite these challenges, Nez emphasized a strong preference for their current surroundings over the crowded conditions of nearby cities like Gallup. She cherishes the open air, the tranquility brought by rain, and the diverse wildlife that still, albeit sparingly, can be found in their environment.
“I like the stillness of everything,” Nez said, highlighting the significance of preserving this connection to nature.
However, the transformation of their previous home into a contaminated landscape has deprived children of the simple joys that prevailed before.
Nez lamented, pointing to the stark contrast between the vibrant familial activities of the past and the current desolation. The impact of contamination has not only altered the land but also fragmented the communal spirit that once thrived there.
As the uranium boom continued, Nez said they noticed miners living near the mine site.
“There were people ndaalnish kǫ́ǫ́nikǫ́ǫ́, nléí close to the mine they put out their tent, or they sleep in their truck, or put up their shed. So, they live all over the place here. So that’s how it was then,” Nez said.
For years, mining activities did not stop. Miners like her father Jack Hood, who passed away in 2014 due to pulmonary fibrosis, and his brother and sisters lived close to the mine sites. Bertha said her father lived about a thousand feet from his work site.
“They used to just walk over there,” she said. And my brother and my sisters, they used to work there. And they walked over there.”