On Saturday, Nov. 11, members and supporters of the Miskitu indigenous party, Yapti Tasba Masraka Nanih Aslatakanka (YATAMA) crowded into their burnt down compound to celebrate their thirtieth anniversary. Over one thousand people were present, including many from surrounding villages that came to listen to the party’s political leader and congressman, Brooklyn Rivera.
The celebration came just days after riot police and military were flown in from Managua to control dissent following Nicaragua’s municipal elections. YATAMA and its supporters roundly denounced the election results on Nov. 5 that deposed them of control of the municipalities of Bilwi, Waspam, Prinzapolka and Awaltara.
YATAMA’s supporters, who took to the streets in protest of the results—which YATAMA deemed fraudulent—were met with violence by military and paramilitary forces carrying automatic weapons.
“We were protesting electoral fraud,” said the party’s leader, Brooklyn Rivera. “We were protecting our people. We were not expecting the military or the police to attack. Our youth tried to resist the attack, but you cannot fight back with rocks when they have machine guns.”
The violence in Bilwi reached a new low when YATAMA’s headquarters was set on fire Monday night. At least part of the event was caught on film, but no one has taken responsibility for setting fire to the compound.
YATAMA and many residents of Puerto Cabezas-Bilwi say that local residents are not responsible.
Brooklyn Rivera, who was in his office when the building was set ablaze, insists that it was the police and army. “I was inside there when they attacked. It was not the Sandinista youth or local Sandinista members. It was the army and the police who did this, not our local people. This violence was organized from Managua,” he said.
IC confirms that party leadership has been harassed, attacked and threatened by military and paramilitary personal as government forces laid siege to the city. “The burning of the YATAMA house, the radio station and the destruction of the Indian statue came directly from the special forces of the police, not from some local Sandinista group,” said Mr. Rivera. “The leadership of YATAMA is not fighting, we are here accompanying our people.”
These allegations suggest that the post-election unrest in Bilwi is not a local conflict of “Miskitu versus Miskitu,” but rather a government crackdown on indigenous resistance. There are currently one hundred and three political prisoners in Bilwi following the municipal elections, and the arrests of protesters throughout the country show that distrust of the democratic process in Nicaragua is not isolated to the Atlantic Coast.
Mr. Rivera was pleased to have peace during the party’s celebration, and he is already planning a path forward to remain a pillar of support for the indigenous population. “We must rebuild, it is important that our people have staples of communication and resistance like our radio station to keep unity in our communities.”
It has been a difficult week for the party, as it comes to terms with the iron grip of militarization. The aftermath of the election has left many questioning if YATAMA should direct itself away from a political agenda, when each election is met with allegations of fraud and violence.
Mr. Rivera understands this sentiment and frustration, citing a recent resolution by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, he commented, “We are violating our own rights by participating in this election.”
When asked why the national government has exhausted so much power to prevent YATAMA from succeeding, Mr. Rivera did not hesitate. “They are trying to colonize our people and our land to control our natural resources. We resisted, and now they are trying to totally destroy indigenous organization.”
As relations between YATAMA and the Ortega administration continue to deteriorate, residents are beginning to accuse the government of resorting to the same kind of reactionary violence seen in the 1980s. For now, the city remains peopled with military personnel, as YATAMA plans to reopen its radio station and reconstruct its pillars of resistance.
Featured image: Amid reports the Sandinista army has ordered his capture or execution; historic political and spiritual leader of the Indigenous political party of Yatama, Brooklyn Rivera, prepares to brave a public appearance. Photo: Lloyd Lopez
Since the elections on Sunday Nov. 5, Yatama has lost far more than the municipalities of Waspam, Bilwi, Prinzapolka, and Awaltara. At least four people have been killed, dozens have been injured, and 50 have been taken as political prisoners; Yatama’s Miskitu-language radio station and sacred headquarters was burned down; the “indio guerillero” (warrior Indian) statue was destroyed; and Yatama’s own flag was replaced by the flag of the Sandinista nation-state. Their backs are to the wall.
Yatama leaders’ feelings of helplessness does not fit within the Miskitu world-view, however. The Miskitu Peoples still see themselves as successful warriors. They fought alongside the British during the colonial era and were not conquered by the Spanish until 1894, when their Muskitia homeland was incorporated into the Nicaraguan state. As fighters in the US-backed Contra War within the Nicaraguan revolution (1979-1990), the Miskitu were awarded a pluri-ethnic homeland, almost half of the country, with two politically autonomous regions.
So why now in 2017 do the Miskitu feel helpless? In the past, the Miskitu aligned with the British and US governments. Today, they have no international alliances. Only Russia and China are current players in Nicaragua. Chinese mega-projects and Russian military bases and armory, including a recent purchase of 50 tanks, fortify the Ortega government.
On Tuesday, Nov. 7, the Miskitu Yatama sympathizers placed a road block in Sisin, blocking passage of vehicles and haulting commerce between Waspam and Bilwi. Rumors began that Yatama men were arming themselves in rural communities and planned to fight in Bilwi and burn down the entire town of Bilwi (pop. 50,000), the capital of the North Caribbean Autonomous Region. The US Embassy evacuated its Fulbright scholar in Tuapi. Bilwi residents experience anxiety and PTSD.
Speaking with Brooklyn Rivera by phone on the evening of Friday, Nov. 10, IC asked him directly if Yatama is planning to cause violence. He told us, “No, we are the victims of violence. The state is committing violence against us. We are poor indigenous people. We don’t have guns, we have rocks and they have automatic weapons. We can’t fight that.”
When asked if his troops are arming in communities, he responded, “That is just gossip.”
We also asked if Yatama plans to burn down Bilwi. He told us, “No, how can we burn down our home?”
Rivera continued, “Thousands of Miskitu people were not allowed to vote in the municipal elections. Then, the Riot Police from Managua backed by the local Bilwi Police burned down the Yatama radio station and headquarters.”
Rivera, now 65 years old, has served as the highest leader of the Miskitu people since the early 1980s. On the Monday following the 2017 municipal elections, Rivera had a busy day—he escaped from Riot Police and later, the devastating fire at the Yatama house.
Rivera interjected, “Tomorrow at 1:00 in the baseball stadium, we will celebrate Yatama’s 30-year anniversary.” He is the founder and long-term Yatama director. We asked if he plans to attend the celebration. Rivera replied quickly, “Sure, I have to celebrate along with my people.” We pointed out that he may be arrested. He demured, “I am ready for anything that comes. I am the leader of my people, I have done nothing wrong. I haven’t killed anyone.”
Meanwhile, Bilwi sleeps lightly tonight, with the Yatama celebration planned for mid-day. Bilwi is highly militarized, with over 100 riot police roaming the streets along with rogue neighborhood gangs. Any gathering could easily turn into a violent confrontation. The stage is set for a showdown.
In this lecture, Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, author of “An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States,” discusses the reality of former US policy and practice towards Indigenous Peoples not merely as “racist” or “discriminatory” deeds but as precise occurrences of genocide.
Noting that Canadian history holds a similar–albeit less severe–legacy of genocide, Dunbar-Ortiz demonstrates how the United States carried out all five acts of genocide as identified in Article 2 of The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (CPPCG).
The event was Hosted by the Institute for the Humanities at Simon Fraser University and Co-sponsored by SFU’s Vancity Office of Community Engagement and First Nations Studies, and UBC’s First Nations and Indigenous Studies Program and Institute for Critical Indigenous Studies.
“Settler-Colonialism and Genocide Policies in North America”–A free public lecture by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz
Governmental policies and actions related to Indigenous peoples, though often termed “racist” or “discriminatory,” are rarely depicted as what they are: classic cases of imperialism and a particular form of colonialism—settler colonialism. As anthropologist Patrick Wolfe has noted: “The question of genocide is never far from discussions of settler colonialism. Land is life—or, at least, land is necessary for life.” The history of North America is a history of settler colonialism. The objective of government authorities was to terminate the existence of Indigenous Peoples as peoples—not as random individuals. This is the very definition of modern genocide. US and Canadian history, as well as inherited Indigenous trauma, cannot be understood without dealing with the genocide committed against Indigenous peoples. From the colonial period through the founding of states and continuing in the 21st century, this has entailed torture, terror, sexual abuse, massacres, systematic military occupations, removals of Indigenous peoples from their ancestral territories, forced removal of Native American children to military-like boarding schools, allotment, and policies of termination.
Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz grew up in rural Oklahoma, daughter of a tenant farmer and part-Indian mother. Her grandfather, a white settler, farmer, and veterinarian, was a member of the Oklahoma Socialist Party and Industrial Workers of the World. Her historical memoir, “Red Dirt: Growing Up Okie,” tells that story. Moving to San Francisco, California, she graduated in History from San Francisco State University and began graduate school at the University of California at Berkeley, transferring to University of California, Los Angeles to complete her doctorate in History, specializing in Western Hemisphere and Indigenous histories. From 1967 to 1972, she was a full time activist and a leader in the women’s liberation movement that emerged in 1967, organizing in various parts of the U. S., traveling to Europe, Mexico, and Cuba. A second historical memoir, “Outlaw Woman: Memoir of the War Years, 1960-1975,” tells that story. In 1973, Roxanne joined the American Indian Movement (AIM) and the International Indian Treaty Council, beginning a lifelong commitment to international human rights, lobbying for Indigenous rights at the United Nations. Appointed as director of Native American Studies at California State University East Bay, she collaborated in the development of the Department of Ethnic Studies, as well as Women’s Studies, where she taught for 3 decades. Her 1977 book, “The Great Sioux Nation: An Oral History of the Sioux Nation,” was the fundamental document at the first international conference on Indians of the Americas, held at United Nations’ headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. Two more scholarly books followed: “Roots of Resistance: A History of Land Tenure in New Mexico” and “Indians of the Americas: Human Rights and Self-Determination.” In 1981, Roxanne was invited to visit Sandinista Nicaragua to appraise the land tenure situation of the Mískitu Indians in the isolated northeastern region of the country. In over a hundred trips to Nicaragua and Honduras, she monitored what was called the Contra War. Her book, “Blood on the Border: A Memoir of the Contra War,” was published in 2005. “An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States” was published by Beacon Press in September 2014.
The San Diego Police Department scares me. All police, for that matter, scare me.
I’m writing this because I cannot drown out the sharp pops of a burst of police gunfire hanging on the still desert air.
I heard the eerily common sound of gunshots as I watched a video of police shooting an unarmed 20 year-old black man named D’Andre Berghardt near Red Rock Canyon in Nevada the other day with my partner.
A few days before viewing the video, we were on our way to Red Rock Canyon for a rock-climbing trip with friends. Highway 159 provides access to the canyon, but was closed due to a “police incident.” We made a mental note to check on the incident when we got home.
Back at home, safe on our couch in the living room, we started the video. The video was taken by two men sitting in their car as the entire encounter unfolded. You can see three or four cars stopped with drivers gawking on. There is even a bicyclist sitting on her bike seat calmly absorbing the scene.
The video opened with two officers, guns drawn, on either side of Berghardt. The officers spoke with Berghardt for a minute or so. Our disbelief grew as one officer pepper sprayed Berghardt. I paused the video to explain I’ve read that pepper spray often makes people vomit. A moment later, we watched Berghardt double over. We listened to the men taking the video asking, “Why don’t they just cuff him?” Then we watched as the officers taser Berghardt. I stopped the video again to say that tasering often causes the recipient to defecate in his or her pants. A few of the cars started turning around and driving past the scene.
Finally, my partner who is much braver than me and much more vocal, yelled out, “Why doesn’t some one do something!?”
All I could manage to say was, “I would be scared. The cops have their guns out. I’m not talking to a cop with his gun drawn.”
Then we finished the video as Berghardt eventually ran from officers who had pepper sprayed him and tasered him into an open police vehicle before being shot multiple times from a few feet away. Then, he died.
After watching the video, we learned that Berghardt had been walking down Highway 159 asking cyclists for water and telling them to “have a good ride.”
And now: I cannot drown out the sharp pops of a burst of police gunfire hanging on the still desert air.
It is time that we do something.
***
I’m writing this because I cannot drown out the voices of the women who have so bravely – despite tears, shaking voices, traumatic recollections, and even government-paid stalkers – told their stories of sexual assault at the hands of the SDPD.
With the recent news that the City Attorney’s office paid a private investigator to follow for 23 days and videotape one of former SDPD Officer Anthony Arrevalos’ sexual assault victims and now the news that another SDPD officer, Chris Hays, has been arrested on suspicion of committing false imprisonment and misdemeanor sexual battery while on duty, my fear of the police is growing stronger and stronger.
These disturbing sexual abuse allegations (and convictions) are not just here in San Diego, either. A quick Google search shows that almost identical cases of abuse are happening all over the country. Do any of these stories sound familiar? A few weeks ago in Dallas an officer allegedly told a woman he wouldn’t take her to jail if she would have sex with him. Last summer a school police officer in Eugene, OR was convicted of sexually abusing six women while on-duty and off-duty and several more women came forward after conviction. And, in Chicago, two officers are accused of raping a woman they offered a ride home while on-duty.
I have to be honest. I’ve never liked the police. It started when I was younger. I’ve always worn my hair long and have been pulled over too many times to have a cop let me go after explaining, “You have to admit, you do look like you probably have drugs on you.”
Then, I became a public defender, and learned first hand just how bad the police can be. There were too many times when I requested video evidence from squad car cameras only to find the officer ‘forgot’ to turn the camera on. Too many times I overheard senior officers telling junior officers how to testify in the hallway before hearings. Too many times I watched as police officers were cleared of claims of excessive force. Too many times I’ve seen women coming forward to report sexual abuse at the hands of police officers.
***
I’m afraid of the police. I’m particularly afraid of the SDPD because I live here, and because we keep getting report after report of their violence.
I’m also very angry. There are people who are responding to criticisms of the police with the tired rebuttal “If you don’t do anything wrong, you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
D’Andre Berghardt wasn’t doing anything wrong. The women in Eugene, OR assaulted by a school cop weren’t doing anything wrong. The woman who took a ride home from police officers before being raped by both of them wasn’t doing anything wrong.
And what about the definition of “wrong?” It’s not wrong to smoke recreational marijuana in Washington, but it is in most of the rest of the country. Many states still have anti-sodomy laws on the books. It was wrong at one time in this country to harbor run away slaves.
And what about when the right thing to do is “wrong”? For example, who do you think is going to show up first with guns drawn if outraged citizens decided to dismantle California’s fracking sites? Who showed up at Wounded Knee in 1973 when indigenous peoples demanded the federal government honor their treaties? Who murdered Fred Hampton? Who smuggled cocaine from Nicaragua into the US? Who is teaching children to shoot likenesses of immigrants at the border? Who is shooting the immigrants?
I am afraid of the police. You should be, too, even if you’re doing nothing wrong. They will throw their phony reports at us. They will harass us if we speak too loudly. Their City Attorney will send stalkers to report on our sexual habits. And, yes, they might even point their guns at some of us.
One-hundred and fifty years after a treaty with England granted the Miskito people rights over their land–a treaty which was never fully respected–the government of Honduras has officially handed over nearly a million hectares (970,000 hectares) of tropical forest along the Caribbean Coast to the indigenous people. The Miskito are found along the eastern coast of both Honduras and Nicaragua and number around 200,000.
“This is an unprecedented and historic moment for our peoples,” said Norvin Goff, chairman of Miskitu Asla Takanka (MASTA), a Honduras group representing the tribes.”The entire region is at risk from illegal hunting, logging and clearing of land to graze cattle. The Miskito people can protect it, but only if we have title to those lands.”
Over the last few decades, tropical forests along the Caribbean Coast have been infiltrated by land speculators, loggers, and ranchers, creating conflict between the illegal settlers and the Miskito. The Miskito now have title to seven land areas, comprising 128 communities, and about seven percent of Honduras’ total land area.
The official rights to their land will allow the Miskito to negotiate possible REDD+ treaties in the future. REDD, which stands for Reducing Emissions From Deforestation and Degradation, is a UN program that aims to cut global carbon emissions by paying tropical countries to keep their forests standing.
“We have been doing REDD for 500 years,” notes Goff. “Now we will be able to teach others how we have protected our forests and natural resources, and benefit from our role in helping the world that wants so badly to stop destroying the forests so we can slow climate change.”
Around 40 percent of Honduras is covered in forest, but the country has one of the highest rates of deforestation in Latin America. From 1990 to 2005, Honduras lost 37.1 percent of its forestland. The country is still home to a number of important Neotropical species such as the jaguar (Panthera onca), Baird’s tapir (Tapirus bairdii), giant anteater (Myrmecophaga tridactyla), and mantled howler monkey (Alouatta palliata).
“With a substantial proportion of the total territory of Honduras now owned by Indigenous peoples, we envision the creation of a new development agenda in Honduras, one built with guidance from indigenous peoples and with respect for our customary rights,” Goff said.
