Climate migrants, Peruvians rebuild their lives in the desert

Region of Piura (Peru), report

To visit people displaced by climate change from Piura, in the far north of Peru, you must first reach the North Panamerican. Along this road are several groupings. One of them is commonly called “ the 980 kilometer because its access is at this level. Half an hour by taxi and ten minutes on foot later, on a path where motorbike taxis and carts intersect, the first dwellings take shape in the middle of a landscape made of sand and shrubs. In this desert setting, about two thousand families live in precarious constructions made of straw, wooden plates and other inexpensive materials within eight " villages".

© Gaëlle Sutton/Reporterre

The reason for the exile? In March 2017, the climatic phenomenon El Niño, a seasonal sea current in the South Pacific, caused intense rains causing the Piura River to overflow and cause devastating floods. A total of 300,000 people have been displaced in the country of 33 million people, according to the International Organization for Migration. José Juan Morales lived on the banks of the river. Standing at the entrance to his cabin - he has just returned from his plot with his mare, Berta - he remembers the day he arrived here: " The armed forces evacuated us with helicopters. ” His voice cuts out. Tears well up in his eyes. He continues: “ There have been deaths. Our animals, everything we had, our homes, everything was taken away. We lost everything. We were surrounded by water. They evacuated us to this area. » The 68-year-old man now lives about twenty kilometers from these shores. According to a 2017 report by the National Civil Defense Institute (Indeci), at least 138 people have died across the country.

About two thousand families live in buildings of wood, straw and sheet metal. © Lysandra Chadefaux/Reporterre

On the heights of kilometer 980, Lucy Santoval Zapata raises pigs and horses. Agriculture is the main activity of most inhabitants. Daily life is organized around the cultivation of corn, cotton, beans and the raising of animals – which they eat and sell. Without running water or electricity since their arrival, the days follow the rhythm of the sun. “ From 6 p.m., night falls. We find ourselves plunged into darkness, so we go to bed. We light a candle. When it goes off, it's time to sleep. We, what we would like is electricity and water, especially for our children ”, says the mother of six children. Water is brought in by tanker twice a week. “ We are running out of it. She means everything to us. Our animals need it as much as we do. » Lucy adds that there is no sewage system and mentions the presence of dangerous snakes and insects.

“ There was nothing here, just a few trees and arid stretches as far as the eye could see. We built everything with the sweat of our brow ”, Lucy's husband Ernesto told Reporterre. Initially, this area was a relief camp set up by the authorities. The displaced were living in tents. A part has since returned to the river because basic services are provided there. Not Ernesto. He doesn't want to risk losing everything again. “ Everyone who stayed got used to this place. We are better off here because we don't live with the fear of a new flood. » If the overflow of the Piura River has already occurred in the past, in particular in 1983 and 1998, the El Niño extremes — and their counterpart, the La Niña phenomenon — will be more frequent under the effect of uncontrolled global warming [1].

Despite the difficulties, the camp is gradually being structured. There is no market so a seller of fresh fish sets up shop at the same crossroads every day. He sells his products from the trunk of an old gray Toyota Caldina “ almost ready for scrap ,” according to one customer who jokes while waiting for her order. A few streets up, Araceli Chiroque, 36, has just opened her “ small store. Cakes and necessities are hung along a wire for sale.

José Juan Morales lived on the banks of the Piura River before it overflowed in 2017. © Lysandra Chadefaux/Reporterre

In the huts, the most of the belongings are placed high up so as not to be in contact with the sand on the ground. Between salvaged furniture and basic furnishings, everyone does what they can to arrange their accommodation. “ Little by little, we are turning into a village. We feel proud to see the result of our efforts. » The mother of four children works, like some of the inhabitants, for grape companies located nearby as a seasonal worker. Araceli is optimistic: “ Now I will work with peace of mind because my children have a roof over their heads. ”

Jorge Nizama Chiroque, 25, makes ends meet by riding a motorcycle taxi. “ When there is no seasonal work, you have to find other sources of income ”, he summarizes. A day of motorcycle taxi brings in 25 soles (5 euros). “ It would be difficult to live all year round solely from this activity. ” Without a road, the engines of the machines suffer. It is not uncommon to come across a motorcycle taxi that has broken down. Apart from the problems common to the whole population, Jorge describes daily life in this area as “ tranquil ”. He installed two speakers at the rear of the vehicle. " It's for my clients, I put cumbia or salsa. "

Abandoned by the State

“ Hello, for sale: chicken in the house of Marie Carmen, rue du 1ᵉʳ mai. » The voice of Greysi Dallana Namuche Cahuana, 11, resonates through the eight villages that make up kilometer 980. She reads and broadcasts through a loudspeaker the classifieds. “ It informs the population when there are meetings, to know when to go to be vaccinated or who sells what. This is important because it helps the locals. ” Due to the Covid-19 pandemic and like all children in Peru, Greysi is attending school at home. It's on his cell phone. " It's not easy because there's no internet here and not a lot of signal. " The lack of electricity makes it difficult to follow classes. Not all families can afford solar panels to charge phones.

Araceli Chiroque and two of her children in front of their cabin. © Lysandra Chadefaux/Reporterre

Greysi's father, Leopoldo, is the " president " of Nuevo Santa Rosa. Each new village has appointed a representative to organize themselves. The man pulls out an official document stating that he is one of the “ people displaced by the natural disasters caused by El Niño costero 2017 ”. Leopoldo feels abandoned by the state: “ It has been almost five years now. We need water, even more with the pandemic, and hygienic services. There is the problem of child nutrition. That of flies and sand in food. We want to be heard. We are displaced, we have rights. » In case of medical need, it takes twenty to thirty minutes to reach the nearest health center. Another quack, the land does not belong to the inhabitants. According to them, they once belonged to their community: they would therefore like to find an agreement to become owners again.

Fresh produce is sold from a Toyota every morning. © Lysandra Chadefaux/Reporterre

“ Solidarity is a habit here ”

On this Sunday noon, several neighbors are busy preparing a meal. This is an event organized to raise funds for a sick resident. Installed at tables, residents enjoy their meal and drink their chicha de jora, a corn-based drink. On a musical background, Luis Pasache Silva, a resident, animates the event. “ Solidarity is a habit here. We are always ready to help as soon as a person needs it ”, he underlines between two dedications at the microphone.

Lower down, Eduardo Rodriguez Prado, helped by his son Eduardo junior, lays the first bricks of his house. " Between the high heat, the sand and the cold, the temperatures are extreme here ", says the man, who hopes to soon be able to offer his family a home made of stronger materials.

The Piura River is located about twenty kilometers to the west. © Lysandra Chadefaux/Reporterre

Night has fallen. In the dining room part of Gladys and Victor's cabin, a television broadcasts a cartoon. The scene is almost unprecedented, very few homes at kilometer 980 have television. “ We have the neighborhood children at our house in the evening. That way they also benefit. » Victor explains that the financial effort was « heavy » to buy the solar panels but that he wants to provide some comfort for her children. “ Now they are the future. ” A neighbor joins the group now seated around a bin full of corn. " It's our entertainment, we talk while shelling corn, the day ends like this. " The remaining stalks are carefully set aside. They will be used tomorrow to light the fire to prepare breakfast.

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