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Satu Mare buying blow

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The Most Polluted Place in Europe

Satu Mare buying blow

The dam burst in the middle of one of the most beautiful landscapes on earth. The forested foothills of the Carpathians sweep down to plains divided into tiny plots, where peasant farmers still plough by horse. The factories poisoning its inhabitants are tiny. They employ, between them, only 5, people. They are killing many more. The western Carpathians are built of copper, zinc, lead, silver and gold. But, thanks to a lethal combination of the legacy of state communism and the arrival of unregulated capitalism, far from enriching the lives of its inhabitants, this great wealth has ruined them. The roofs are stoved in, the walls have collapsed, pipes have ruptured or rusted away altogether, the chimneys are crumbling. Miraculously, however, it still produces thousands of tonnes of lead. When the plant is working, clouds of poison blow straight into the houses clustered around it. Ioan Zidaru told his son to lift up his T-shirt. Protruding from his belly was an ugly purple scar. Like most of the people in his village, the boy had duodenal ulcers. Six weeks before I met him, one of them had ruptured, and he was rushed into hospital to have part of his gut removed. They told me that sometimes the smoke is so dense, they pass out. A few months ago, the seven-year old son of one family we spoke to dropped dead. The men, who worked in the lead plant, all took early retirement when they fell ill. But the most intractable problem in Baia Mare is not smoke but dust. When the wind blows, it whips up a storm of dust so fine that it can pass straight through the lining of the lungs, carrying zinc, copper, manganese, lead, cadmium, mercury and arsenic into the bloodstream. The dust pours not only through windows of the flats, but also into a school for handicapped children, who have been dumped, like the poor, beside the tip. Many of them are likely to have been handicapped by pollution. Nearly four per cent of the babies born in Baia Mare so far this year suffer from serious disabilities. Dr Gheorghe Gradinaru, who runs a private clinic in Baia Mare, maintains that life expectancy in the town is between ten and fifteen years lower than in the rest of Romania. Hundreds of children are stillborn, hundreds more are premature. Genital cancer, kidney and heart trouble, brain damage and lung disease are rife. In , the national mining company, which owns the toxic tip on the edge of Baia Mare, formed a joint venture with a small Australian company named Esmeralda to get rid of it. The new firm, called Aurul, would dismantle the dump with the help of the money it made by extracting the residual gold the tailings contained. In May last year, Aurul began mixing the toxic dust with water and cyanide. The cyanide forms a compound with the gold, which can then be separated from the other wastes. But as the gold is sparse, very high concentrations of cyanide are needed to capture it. The resulting sludge is pumped out to a pond in the countryside, twelve kilometres from Baia Mare. The hectare pond Aurul has built looks rather like one of the gravel pits you see in the Thames valley, but the smell — sickly sweet, halfway between almonds and rotting flesh — is unfamiliar. There is so much cyanide in the water that when birds fly over it, they drop dead. Last winter, the dam surrounding the pond burst. Between 50 and tonnes of cyanide poured over the surrounding farmland and into a stream. By the time it reached the Black Sea, five weeks and kilometres later, it had killed much of the life which lay in its path. As the United Nations Environment Programme later concluded, the pond was so badly designed and constructed that the disaster was all but inevitable. They had been drinking out of poisoned wells for days. Their land was devastated, but they have, so far, received no compensation. If they are not to starve this year, they must farm, and some of them have already begun to plough and graze their animals on soil saturated by the metal compounds which poured from the pond. The acute problems caused by the spill are dwarfed by the chronic pollution afflicting Bozinta Mare. Even if the damburst had not taken place, the dust would have rendered the fields unfit for farming. The Aurul pond is just one of toxic waste lagoons in the region, most of which could burst at any time. As grey sludge spurted out, they fought to mend the antiquated pipes and valves without masks, gloves or protective clothing. When the company started to mine the toxic tip, it broke the frail crust which had begun to develop, exposing its neighbours to even more poisonous dust. I watched the children who lived beside it using the dump as a giant sandpit, riding bikes and rolling tyres in it, digging holes, kicking up clouds of dust. Though Aurul had posted two guards on the dump, they made no visible efforts to stop them. An old woman tottered out to collect flowers from the acacia bushes clinging to the tailings. She told me she would use them to make herb tea. No one had sought to dissuade her. Extraordinarily, however, before it has cleaned up the mess it has made, Aurul wants to resume production. At a public meeting in Baia Mare, a representative from the plant told the villagers that the dam was now perfectly safe. I pointed out to him that the villagers remained uncompensated, and their land was unsuitable for farming. The government officials in the hall played an impressive game of regulatory tennis: the man from the environmental protection agency said that the agriculture department was responsible. The man from the department of health said it was up to the environmental protection agency. In theory, Romania has some of the toughest environmental regulations in the world. Afterwards, I asked Martin Churchhouse for an interview. He failed to appear. His secretary handed me a letter explaining that Aurul could not talk to me, but if I wanted to find out more I should read the United Nations report. I found this response interesting, as the report could scarcely be more damning. Like the people suffering from industrial pollution in the film Erin Brokovich, the villagers of Bozinta Mare desperately need a lawyer. I wish they would pack their bags and go away. They are destroying us.

Satu Mare buying blow