ITINGA, Minas Gerais, Brazil — It is the middle of the night in Minas Gerais, and work at the lithium mine in Jequitinhonha Valley does not stop. Noise from hundreds of machines churning up the soil echoes off the mountains, destroying the peace and quiet of the traditional communities living in the region.

It is 3:30 a.m. when a line of trucks forms on top of a rise. With the help of tractors, tons of rock are dumped downhill. The rumbling mixed with the sound of engines reaches the 70 homes in the village called Piauí Poço Dantas, Itinga, established 150 years ago on the banks of Piauí Creek, a tributary of Jequitinhonha River.

The hill is, in fact, waste rock Pile 5 —stored unusable materials rejected from Brazil’s largest lithium mine. Rising 20 meters (66 feet) above the ground and occupying 560,000 square meters (6 million square feet, more than 110 football fields) of land area, the pile’s size has quadrupled over the last 11 months and is now just a few meters from the creek and the homes in the village. If the mine’s owner, Sigma Lithium, upholds its plans for expansion, the situation could get worse.

Currently producing 270,000 tons of lithium concentrate per year, the mining company recently received 500 million reais ($86.3 million) in financing from Fundo Clima, the Climate Fund, to double its capacity. The financing was approved after an analysis of the projects and the licenses that Sigma obtained from the appropriate environmental agencies, says the National Economic and Social Development Bank (BNDES), manager of the fund created to finance measures that fight climate changes.

In order to reach a 540,000-ton annual capacity starting in 2025, the piling area designated in the company’s initial plans had to be quadrupled. The 400,000 m2 (4.3 million ft2) licensed in 2019 increased to 2 million m2 (21.5 million ft2) on its last operating license, published in January by Minas Gerais’ Secretary of State for the Environment and Sustainable Development after a favorable statement from the State Environmental Foundation.

Sigma’s hurried growth is driven by high demand for the metal on the international market, especially for the manufacture of electric cars in China, Japan, Europe and the United States. Other mining companies are also competing for lithium extraction opportunities in the region today.

While Sigma operates at full steam to compensate for a sudden drop in lithium prices (by nearly 90% as compared with 2022), the U.S.-owned company Atlas is about to obtain its operating license for Araçuaí, also in Jequitinhonha Valley; Australia’s Pilbara Minerals has announced its intention to purchase mining rights in Salinas for 1.95 billion reais ($337 million), and CBL (Companhia Brasileiro de Lítio), which is working an old subterranean mine next to Sigma’s, plans to triple its production.

Asthma, pneumonia and silicosis

The runaway growth of mining in the region has daily impact on local farmers Edvaldo Pereira Santos, 63, and Angela Marques Santos, 60. Born and raised in the traditional community of Piauí Poço Dantas, the couple — together with all the people living there today — are suffering from lack of sleep, have respiratory problems and are angered by Sigma’s encroaching wall of rubble as it steadily gains ground toward their home.

At 6 a.m., following yet another noisy night, the Santoses are already up. “Things were easy in the old days. We would hear birds singing, drink water from the creek and our kids didn’t get sick. After this company came in, it’s like this: No one can sleep, the children are always coughing and we have no peace,” says Angela as she lights her clay woodstove that sits behind her home, face to face with the stockpile of waste rock.

The Piauí Poço Dantas community has no running water, and Angela Santos makes the coffee with water distributed by Sigma. The company gave water storage tanks to all the homes in the village and fills them with trucked-in water once a week. “They told us not to drink water from the creek anymore,” Edvaldo says while their three grandchildren arrive with their son Evandro, who is also a farmer.

Soon, a breakfast of sweetened coffee, homemade bread, butter, corn cake and orange juice is served. Evandro runs his finger over the surface of the table to show the dust that has settled there since the night before. “This fine malacacheta [mineral] dust is killing us inside — from silicosis,” says the 35-year-old farmer, naming the incurable occupational disease that affects the lungs of mine workers. “My wife just got over having pneumonia and our three sons developed asthma. They haven’t gotten better since this dust started falling.”

At 8 a.m., the boys (8-year-old Davi Henrique, 9-year-old João Miguel and 13-year-old Pedro Lucas) start their walk to school. Almost no cars pass on the dirt road and the boys’ attention is caught by a blue and yellow macaw that flies low over their heads. “Her name is Loura. She plays with us every day,” Pedro says. The macaw began interacting with people here after her mate was killed by high tension lines two years ago.

By this time of day, Edvaldo is already harvesting bananas in the field with other men from the village. Evandro has stayed at home to take care of his wife, Taísa, who is still recuperating from her pneumonia. Seated on the front porch, he tells how part of the community resists taking jobs at the mining company. In an angry voice, he comments that many are not willing to subject themselves to the companies that are changing the community’s landscape and customs.

The women from the village meet up at the creek to wash dishes and clothing until the men and children come back. “The water level has dropped over the last few years. There is a strong drought going on, but I think that all this dust also has something to do with it,” says Ivanete Pinheiro Santos, 63. “I was fishing with a friend of mine yesterday and they [the mine operators] set off three explosions at once. We had to tie our blouses over our faces because there was so much smelly smoke and dust falling on us. The children are suffering from panic attacks and from pneumonia.”

Angela Santos receives a visitor on the front porch of her home: 37-year-old community health worker Cleony Pereira, who has been responsible for the health care of the 66 families in Piauí Poço Dantas since 2013. “Just like Mrs. Santos, everyone here is complaining of sleep problems and in some cases are needing sleeping pills and antidepressants. But what has really gotten worse with this mine are respiratory illnesses. Many of the children and old people are dealing with recurrent pneumonia.” She points out that it is becoming difficult to treat patients at the regional hospital in Araçuaí. “It’s always packed,” she affirms. “Our neighbor Jessica went there this morning early with her 2-year-old daughter, who also has pneumonia.”

People today wait as long as 12 hours to be seen at the São Vicente de Paulo Hospital in Araçuaí. Outside the hospital, a makeshift tarp shelters a line of chairs with worried people trying to comfort children and old people experiencing breathing problems while they wait to be seen. Jessica Pereira Santos Almeida, Cleony and Angela’s 24-year-old neighbor, was there. Her daughter Eloisa, 2, has been fighting a cold for nine months, which has now developed into pneumonia. “The doctor told us that the dust from the mine caused it. Everyone at home is coughing now.” Jessica is married and also has two sons, 4 and 7.

The Fazenda Velha community lies 3 kilometers (1.9 miles) from Piauí Poço Dantas. Home to 30 families, the village was founded 60 years ago and also sits on the banks of Piauí Creek. Here, the relationship with the creek is different: The water is used to wash dishes and clothes, to bathe and is piped into homes for drinking. Its distribution is provided by Copanor, a concessionary.

From Fazenda Velha, we can see Sigma’s operations in the distance, and the piles of waste rock belonging to CBL are less than 150 m (490 ft) away. The entrance to the mine, which is underground, is 500 m (1,640 ft) away. This mining company planned a roadway that keeps the trucks away from the community and carries out frequent analyses of the effects its operation is causing, yet there are still many complaints.

“There is dust here all day long. Our homes are also cracked because of the detonations,” says José Reinaldo Silva Santos, 40, a hairstylist and also president of the community association. “We’ve had this problem for many years, but after the new mining company [Sigma] came, it got worse. We are worried about our children’s future because this mineral dust accumulates in the lungs,” says Santos, who is married with a 4-year-old daughter.

Land conflicts with Quilombolas

The situation affecting those living in Piauí Poço Dantas is not unlike that affecting other traditional communities in Jequitinhonha Valley like Indigenous communities and quilombos [settlements established by Afro-Brazilian slaves who escaped from plantations that existed in Brazil until abolition in 1888]. The region is already experiencing land conflicts due to lithium mining.

In the Chapada do Lagoão APA Environmental Preservation Area located 30 km (18.6 mi) from Araçuaí, residents of the Jirau, Malhada Preta and Córrego do Narciso do Meio quilombos have begun organizing themselves against the frequent invasions of geologists prospecting lithium inside their territory.

The case called the attention of MAB (Movement of Dam Victims) and State Senator Beatriz Cerqueira (PT), who called the courts into action in April 2023. One month later, following a visit to the region, the Minas Gerais Public Prosecutor’s Office recommended that mineral prospecting permissions be annulled in Chapada do Lagoão because of the large number of water springs there, making it the region’s main water source.

“Many rights violations. There are no rules and there are no limits on mining in Jequitinhonha,” Cerqueira says when asked about the increased mining. “First, the way people live in the communities has been destroyed, and this destruction brings sickness to the population,” she adds.

Senator Cerqueira, who made two trips to the region and called a public hearing with those affected by the mine, recalls the reports she heard in the region. “The local health care system is unable to provide treatment because there are so many illnesses, mainly respiratory and psychiatric,” she says, blaming the mining companies and a lack of action on the part of government agencies.

She says they are responsible for the dust clouds, the excess noise, cracks in the walls of homes, silting of Piauí Creek, blocking community pathways and increased costs and violence. “You can’t put a price on a way of life. No amount of money is enough,” she concludes.

In São José das Neves and Calhauzinho, the peaceful communities neighboring Atlas’ mineral deposits, opinions are divided as to the startup of the mining company’s operations. “Some of the people believe that the economy will improve, but most of us just feel invaded. Aside from the land that the mining companies have already bought, they want the lithium that’s under our land,” 28-year-old quilombo community member Lucas Martins says.

In the rural zone of Itinga, cheese producer Ernani Pereira dos Santos, 35, walks with his head down through the old corral on his small property. He tells us how he is increasingly unable to sustain his family. “I used to have 80 cows and made enough cheese to sell in the stores in Belo Horizonte. I could let my herd run free because there was plenty of pasture. Now I only have 20 cows and they are all starving.” According to him, there is no more land to rent in the region; most has been bought up by the mining companies, and rent prices on any that is left have skyrocketed.

In town, business owner Craig Lamond de Assis, 41, complains that rent has skyrocketed and violence has “overtaken Itinga. … I thought I was coming to live in a peaceful place, but these companies came in and made a mess of everything.”

Assis moved to Itinga four years ago in search of a less hectic life. He lives with his wife in a two-bedroom house and runs a sandwich shop with six employees. The rent on the house was 300 reais ($52) until 2022 but jumped to 800 reais ($138) last year, and the rent at his sandwich shop went up from 1,500 reais ($260) to 2,800 reais ($480) in October.

The old-timers in Taquaral, a district of Itinga that lies on highway BR-367 near the access roads for the Sigma and CBL mines, say the mining companies have attracted many outsiders looking for jobs.

“These people come from other places and take away our opportunities. My daughter has a degree in topography and can’t find a job,” complains Vangia Pereira Souza, 50, who owns a market and sells coffee to the workers on the side of the highway in front of the place where the buses to the mines stop.

Waste rock pile consumes 550 meters (1,800 ft) in 11 months

By layering satellite images taken Sept. 7, 2023, with an aerial photo taken by our reporters Aug. 22, 2024, we saw that waste rock Pile 5 had advanced 550 m (1,800 ft) toward the village of Piauí Poço Dantas and the Piauí Creek. In one spot, the rock pile is just 60 m (200 ft) from the creek and 90 m (295 ft) from homes. The increase places the stream, the homes and Nuno Murta Municipal School within an impact perimeter that classifies as “high magnitude,” according to the undertaking’s own environmental impact report.

According to Edson Farias Mello, geology professor at Rio de Janeiro Federal University, “if the community is being affected by the dust and the noise, measures must be defined for the company to take so this stops happening. It may be concluded that the mining project must be changed.” In terms of the impacts on the stream, Mello says the waterway must be protected. “If it is under a real threat, then there is nonconformity.”

Mello also questions the company’s resistance to receiving our reporters and says the attitude is noncompliant with transparency guidelines defined by the International Council on Mining and Metals and the Brazilian Mining Institute for participation of interested parties in the mine closure plan, especially the directly affected communities.

The mine closure plan consists of the planning for complete deactivation of a mine’s structures according to a sequence of actions involving both environmental and sociocultural issues, so as to assure a sustainable future after the mining company has left. The process is part of the legal obligations placed on mining companies.

What the mining companies say

When sought out by our reporters, Sigma stated that the position of the waste rock piles is part of a plan for “sustainable mine closure practices. … These piles must be placed alongside the hole so that, when mining activities have ended, the material may be deposited back to the place where it was extracted. In this way, the land can return to its original appearance after the mine has been closed,” the company stated Sept. 11.

“Sigma Lithium is the only integrated lithium company in the world that has developed green technologies for the industrialization of its product by dry-stacking its waste rock. This waste is recycled for resurfacing rural roads after reprocessing in Sigma’s industrial lithium factory and sold,” it added.

The company also sent our reporters a folder describing innovation and social sustainability actions that list initiatives it has taken to benefit the local population. These include prioritizing hiring of local workforce and education programs, offering credit to women, distribution of potable water and drought and hunger relief programs.

During the company’s presentation at the United Nations Global Compact in September 2024 in the UNO headquarters in New York, investment director Daniel Abdo commented that “the original plan was to reroute Piauí Creek and create a gigantic hole,” but that the idea was thrown out in order to preserve the neighboring community’s relationship with the creek. “We maintained the creek and made two holes.”

At the same event a day earlier, BNDES director of energy transition Luciana Costa spoke with Mongabay. “Sigma’s practices are very sustainable, but yes, we can analyze the social impact,” she says, referring to the 500 million reais in financing given to the company. “There’s no way to make the energy transition without mining. What we have to make sure of is that mining practices be sustainable. But we will have to monitor things.”

Another person associated with the BNDES reservedly told Mongabay over the phone that the financing could be canceled if the bank, together with environmental agencies, find proof that the mining company is causing serious damage to the environment or to society.

Vinicius Alvarenga, CEO of CBL, says his mine has “the advantage” of being underground. “In our case [of the mine closure plan], the piles are already environmentally correct, and we will close off the mine entrance,” he says. In reference to the detonations and the Fazenda Velha community, Alvarenga explains that the seismographic testing has not as yet detected any significant damage and that his mine is the safest in the world.

The company, which has been operating in Araçuaí since 1985, is the only in Brazil to transform ore into chemical compounds. Today it produces 2,000 tons of lithium carbonate and lithium hydroxide per year and 45,000 tons of lithium concentrate. There are studies underway to triple its production.

Although it does not stack waste rock, CBL does stack tailings. The difference between the two is that the waste rock is material removed before processing and the tailings are the residue after processing. According to Alvarenga, 80% of the material mined by CBL becomes waste rock and is stacked around the deposits.

Visually, the impacts caused by CBL’s mining are less than Sigma’s. Aside from the fact that its mining technique doesn’t result in holes on the surface, its production is smaller. Still, people living in Fazenda Velha village say they feel their health is being compromised.

“It’s a matter of choice. These people will have to work in mining, [or] they will have to do something else. [They may be] even supported by the mining industry. They will be able to study, get degrees, and evolve to other kinds of work,” Alvarenga says.

He argues that his company provides jobs for people from traditional communities like Indigenous and Quilombolas. “They are totally integrated,” he affirms.

‘A lithium legacy’

When questioned, the Minas Gerais state government, which granted the licenses for the operation, delegated Fernando Passalio, secretary of economic development, to respond to our reporters. “The companies that are going there, I am familiar with all of them, because this process of prospecting and drawing in investments is done here by the secretariat of economic development. I can guarantee that they are companies with top practices and high ESG [environmental, social and governance] standards,” Passalio says.

He says there has never been public civil action addressing the problems raised and affirms that, based on Sigma’s studies, the dust that reaches the village is no different than the dust that reaches downtown, which is outside the directly affected area.

Passalio also observes that the mining company should respect the environmental impact study and follow the legal provisions for intervention in permanently preserved areas like waterways. “There is no minimum distance. Federal legislation even considers mining activity to be public utility. The important thing is not to impact supply.”

When sought out to comment on the complaints coming from local people, Itinga’s Mayor João Bosco (PSD), who was campaigning at the time for reelection, did not respond to our reporters because he was busy taking care of fuel donations for the participants in his motorcade. The same happened with the Republican candidate, Adhemar Marcos Filho. A few days later, Bosco was reelected with 61% of the vote.

Also reelected Araçuaí Mayor Tadeu Barbosa de Oliveira (PSD) did receive our reporters in the middle of his campaign and acknowledged the inflation problem. He said the city itself has experienced a 100% increase in rent prices on some of the real estate it has occupied since last year. “It’s a market relationship. What we have to try and do is create low-income housing for those who don’t have a means to bear such a fast and enormous rent hike,” he observes. “On the other hand, more resources become available to the municipal economy, which generates jobs and income.”

“We need to leave a lithium legacy. But the resources coming in from the lithium mines through the CFEM [Brazilian mineral royalty], which is around 4 million reais [$690,000]or 5 million reais [$863,000], are still very small for a municipality with a 130 million reais [$22.4 million] budget,” he says.

According to IBGE data, Araçuaí has a population of 34,297 and ranks 3,942nd for per capita PIB, or gross domestic product ( 14,163 reais or $2,400) among Brazil’s 5,570 municipalities. Itinga, population 13,745, ranks 4,945th with per capita PIB per capita of 9,849 reais ($1,700).

Oliveira says that he is making efforts to improve the quality of people’s lives and to offer job training but criticizes the lack of preparedness on the part of government offices, including his own, to be able to receive undertakings the size of those arriving in Jequitinhonha. “I’m already dealing with health care and education problems, traffic is chaotic, and we haven’t received the resources yet,” he complains.

Atlas adviser Rodrigo Menck explains that their operation is located 5-10 km (3-6 mi) from the communities and lists a series of initiatives sponsored by the company. They include professional development programs, construction of homes for schoolteachers in the village of Calhauzinho and renovations for schools and churches in São José das Neves. He stresses the social importance of the road the mining company built, extending 35 km (22 mi) and 12 m (39 ft) wide, connecting downtown Araçuaí to the mining site, which occupies 468 km2 (180 mi2).

Meanwhile, Pilbara Minerals released a formal statement that its agreement to purchase Latin Resources, the company holding mining rights to the Salinas mine, which lies 100 km (62 mi) from Araçuaí, still depends on the fulfillment of a series of conditions, “which is not expected to happen before the end of 2024. … If the purchase happens, Pilbara Minerals has committed to finishing the studies on the potential future development of the Salinas Latin American Lithium Project. The timing and approvals of any development remain subject to the results of the studies and market conditions.”

Corralled Indigenous Territories

Indigenous leader Marcley Pataxó met with 30 representatives of the Pankararu and Aranã peoples in Coronel Murta, Araçuaí’s neighboring municipality. A communication specialist, Marcley Pataxó is 28 years old and was invited by the Indigenous Missionary Council (CIMI) to orient other Indigenous people on how to use communication tools to report intimidation and threats.

“We heard reports [that day] of some cases of violence in the Aranã and Pankararu territories, specifically related to mining,” Pataxó says. “The concern is with the loss of the rivers because of expanding mining and the pressure the companies are placing on Indigenous communities to buy their land.”

Cleonice Pankararu, 55-year-old Indigenous resident of the village Cinta Vermelha-Jundiba, tells how, aside from the damages caused by the dust and noise from detonations, the behavior of wildlife is being affected in the region and that her people are feeling corralled in.

“What we are very concerned about now is the number of multinational companies coming in to mine the land around our community,” she says. “We have been struggling to increase our territory; we had already managed to negotiate the purchase of a neighboring farm, but then the companies came in and offered a much higher price,” she complains.

Indigenous teacher and missionary Geralda Chaves Soares, 82, a member of CIMI, tells how the Pankararu people came to Jequitinhonha 30 years ago to live on land purchased by CIMI at the time. They had previously been living in the Guarani Indigenous Farming Colony in Carmésia (MG), where they had been placed by the military dictatorship from 1964-85.

“When they arrived in 1985, [the Pankararu] brought visibility to the Aranã people, who are native to this land, resulting in their recognition. Now the two peoples are united. There has historically been much struggle for survival, and now they are facing this problem of the mining companies,” Soares says. “There is lithium in the earth below the territory that the Aranã are delineating. Are we going to wait for the companies to set up activities there?” the missionary asks. She clarifies that both Indigenous groups are awaiting recognition of the land where they live as an Indigenous territory.

According to the 1988 Federal Constitution, mining on Indigenous territories can only be carried out by original peoples. There is therefore a polarized debate going on in Congress about mining rights, leading to increasing conflicts between Indigenous communities and outsiders interested in mineral riches.

Some members of Congress say the proposed development model is incompatible with Indigenous culture and would result in a series of negative environmental impacts like deforestation and polluted rivers. Others argue that the use of sustainable mining technology would generate state revenues and lead to improvements for Indigenous groups, which, in their opinion, live in poverty.

Funai, the Indigenous affairs agency, released a statement saying that it is “aware of the situation” and “gathering information about the impacts of mining projects on Indigenous health, especially possible respiratory problems.”

“There is no such thing as sustainable mining,” Soares says. “Economic interest in minerals supplying the [energy] transition will prevail over any social or environmental interest.”

Banner image: Maria Nilza points to a crack that has formed in the wall of her home in Piauí Poço Dantas due to detonations at the lithium mine owned by Sigma. Image by Caio Guatelli.

This story was first published here in Portuguese here on Nov. 8, 2024.

Credits

Xavier Bartaburu Editor

Maya Johnson Translator

Topics

ConservationEnvironmentIndigenous CommunitiesIndigenous PeoplesIndigenous RightsLand ConflictLithiumMiningPublic HealthTraditional PeopleBrazilLatin AmericaSouth America

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