Sunday, August 06, 2023

Healing With the Land

Gabby Menomin stands across from Lake Phalen in Saint Paul, where the first portion of the creek is to be daylighted. (photo: Sarah Whiting)

BY LYDIA MORAN 
 AUGUST 03, 2023
 Indian Country

Just south of Lake Phalen in Saint Paul is a grassy area where people picnic and walk their dogs.

This story first appeared in Minnesota Women's Press. Republished by Native News Online with permission.

Further south, a strip mall leads into a residential area. Beyond that, I-94 emerges and the banks of the Mississippi River come into view.

Nearly 100 years ago, though, a powerful spring-fed creek flowed freely down this path from Lake Phalen to the river, where it formed a small delta on the Mississippi River floodplain. The waterway was an important travel corridor for Dakota people, and the land surrounding it was home to diverse wetland ecosystems.

Phalen Creek, as it was called by settlers, still exists. It flows through the depths of a concrete stormwater tunnel, entombed by developers in the 1930s.

In 1997, a group of neighbors founded the Lower Phalen Creek Project to bring awareness to the creek and its history. The nonprofit organization is now Native led and called Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi (WTA). The Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary, Indian Mounds Regional Park, and Pig’s Eye Regional Park — all stewarded by the organization — are Dakota sacred sites.

Last year, WTA received $3.3 million in grant money to resurrect — or “daylight” — Phalen Creek. Minnesota Women’s Press spoke with the environmental restoration manager at WTA, Gabby Menomin (Forest County Potawatomi Community), about the project.

What was Phalen Creek like before it was put underground?

The creek was an important corridor for Dakota people, who would use it to canoe from the Mississippi River through Lake Phalen to a large wild rice bed that was once in White Bear Lake.

There were many medicinal and food plants along the creek. It was also the route people took to access Wakan Tipi Cave, which was important for a lot of different ceremonial purposes. Funerary services were performed at the cave before people were brought up to the mounds to be buried and interred. It was also a place for intertribal delegation and relationship-building, mostly because the creek was able to connect people with many inland areas.

During the beginning stages of settlement, settlers depended on the creek as a source of water. In the East Side settlement of Swede Hollow, immigrants relied on the creek and the springs as they made their encampments. When the creek was put underground, many people were affected.

The creek used to be fairly deep, and wide enough to fit several canoes. We’re not going to be able to replicate the creek exactly as it was historically because of the current landscape and some public safety concerns; we’re proposing a channel that will be two to six feet in some areas and not nearly as deep as it once was. The creek also won’t exactly follow its historic route because of existing infrastructure.

Why was the creek forced underground?

That was mainly for housing and development. The south end of Lake Phalen used to be wetland, and [developers] wanted to be able to control the water going through the East Side of Saint Paul to the Mississippi in order to build infrastructure.

The concrete storm pipe [that the creek flows through] is very large. [I’ve seen] pictures of builders standing in it, and it is taller than them. The pipe takes a direct route from Lake Phalen to the Mississippi, and stormwater interceptors connect along the way. Because of that, any pollutants from road runoff go straight into the Mississippi. [When the creek was above ground], the meanders in the creek settled sediment and pollutants and reduced the load into the Mississippi. Now, when there are large storm events, there is a rush of water heading right to the river.

Why is daylighting the creek important?

Culturally, it’s important for Dakota people, who were exiled from Minnesota. Since Phalen Creek was such an important corridor with abundant food and medicines, [being with the creek] is an opportunity for Dakota people to rebuild connection with the land.

With our environmental design, WTA is trying to incorporate as many medicinal and nutritional food plants as possible in order to mimic what would have been growing there. We would love to see ceremonies brought back along the creek.

A creek provides opportunities for polluted sediment to settle in lower-flowing turns in the stream, which will mitigate the pollution going into the Mississippi. Some of the plants that we plan to bring in are phytoremediators that can uptake certain pollutants. Cottonwoods, for example, are good at taking in heavy metals, and they love to live along creek beds.

In a dense urban area like the East Side, there’s an urban heat island effect. Surface water will also be able to provide localized cooling in the area.

What is the process of resurrecting the creek?

Currently, we are in the design phase for the first quarter mile of the creek and working with our water engineers and landscape architects. We are trying to figure out where the creek can run, determining what types of habitats we can support, and gathering information from the public to hear what kind of landscape features they would like to see, [such as] trails, benches, and gathering spaces. At the end of the design phase in summer of 2024, we will begin construction.

We will install a culvert and weir [a low dam that raises the water level upstream to regulate the creek’s flow] in this first portion of the creek, which will control the water flow from Lake Phalen, and then we will start the dredging process. Lake Phalen has massive amounts of water moving through it, so we have to regulate the flow so that it doesn’t wash out the creek and create a huge wetland in the neighborhood. Once we get the creek bed laid out, we will open up the weir and allow for the water to flow through.

During the construction phase for the creek, [we will get the community involved] in plantings. It’s really important for us to engage with the residents, and the indigenous community in Saint Paul and the Greater Twin Cities area, to see how they want to interact with the space.

We are still figuring out what habitats we can work with in this first quarter mile [of the creek]; we’ll have a better idea after we figure out the elevation and grading. There are three different habitat types that will be along the creek: riparian zones [a biome that occurs along a river or stream], oak savanna, and upland prairie.

Riparian species include the cottonwood, native cattails, bullrushes, and native reeds. In the prairie habitats, we will bring in things like big bluestem, little bluestem, porcupine grass, milkweed, bee balm, hyssop, and swamp milkweed. In the oak savanna habitat types, we’re going to be bringing in native sedges and grasses, and burr oaks. We are hoping to see fish transplanted, and we’re trying to figure out how we can integrate more migratory bird habitat.

How have waterways been intertwined with the history of settler colonialism in the region?

There is a long history of settlers trying to control water for agriculture and infrastructure purposes. It’s kind of amazing, this thought process of: “We’re going to completely change the flow of water. We’re going to put water underground in a pipe to make it go a certain route, and we’re going to be able to do what we want with the land after that.”

Water is such a powerful force; it has its own mind.

Because water is so powerful, there is a little wetland area that popped up about five years ago where the creek would have historically run near Lake Phalen. No matter how much people try to control water, it finds ways back. It knows where it wants to flow. The flooded areas in that lawn space are where we will be putting the first portion of the creek.

Restoration and creek daylighting are talked about as manipulating the land to make it look how it would have historically. A lot of that [perspective] comes from settler colonialism.

Lately I’ve been looking at restoration as not just about bringing habitats back — it is about healing the land while also healing yourself and the community.

Projects like this are a great way to get the community involved in being part of restoration efforts: doing the plantings, stewarding the projects after. [We want to] give people the opportunity to reconnect and start accepting nature as relatives.

Wetlands, marshes, and riparian zones are not considered good for property or for agriculture because the water levels are constantly fluctuating; they can be dry one year during a drought and then flood like crazy during a different year. The water routes are unpredictable.

But supporting those waterways is really important. There are ways these creeks and riparian zones can cohabitate with the current infrastructure. We have the technology, such as weir structures, to help control the water flow and levels so that these ecosystems can be brought back.

Exclusive-Amazon Indigenous chief Raoni warns of disaster if deforestation not stopped


By Leonardo Benassatto and Ueslei Marcelino

BELEM, Brazil (Reuters) - Raoni Metuktire, an Indigenous chief from Brazil's Amazon, will urge the region's head of state meeting here this coming week to step up their efforts to preserve the rainforest that is vital to his people's survival and the global climate.

"I will ask the presidents to commit to guaranteeing the preservation of the forest," he told Reuters.

Raoni said threats to the rainforest have decreased since President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva took office in January, but the danger for Indigenous people is now the Brazilian Congress, where the farm lobby is pushing legislation to end further recognition of their ancestral lands.

"There are many Indigenous communities that do not have demarcation and even though the president is in favor of demarcating Indigenous lands, what I hear most are threats, speeches and statements against demarcation in Congress," he said in an interview.

Raoni, an unmistakable figure with his large lip plate and yellow feather headdress, is a chief of the Kayapo people, an Indigenous group that lives along the Xingu River where savannah plains meet the Amazon rainforest.

Their reservation, the Xingu National Park, has become encircled by expanding soy plantations and cattle ranches that dry up rivers that are being polluted by illegal gold miners.

"The deforestation of the Amazon's forests is not good for us Indigenous peoples, and white man needs to rethink and preserve what remains of the Amazon," he warned.

The eight countries of the Amazon Cooperation Treaty Organization (ACTO) will meet on Tuesday and Wednesday in Belem, a city at the mouth of the Amazon, to seek to cooperate across their borders to combat deforestation, protect Indigenous peoples and encourage sustainable development in the face of climate change. Senior officials from the U.S. and France will attend.

Raoni said his people are feeling the impact of climate change.

"Many rivers are drying up. We are feeling very hot and the temperature in the villages is very high, and there is little rain," he said.

Raoni, who is believed to be 91, said his ancestors believed that one day there would be no rain and a big fire on Earth would consume the human race.

"This myth is a message for you white people. You need to understand that if you don't preserve the forest, we will all have problems, all of us!" he added.

The Kayapo leader, who became globally known for his environmental campaigning in the 1980s with musician Sting at his side, said he has visions of disaster.

"The spirits tell me that if this type of human action continues, they will act with great force and then we will have very big problems," he said.

(Reporting by Leonardo Benassatto and Ueslei Marcelino; Writing by Anthony Boadle; Editing by Jonathan Oatis)



2023/08/06

© Reuters


Environmentalists step up Amazon monitoring as fire season picks up


Environmentalists warn that the Brazilian Amazon could be in for a bad burning season despite a drop in deforestation this year, as years of accumulated destruction and the arrival of El Nino could turn swathes of the jungle into a tinderbox
.
 — Reuters pic

Sunday, 06 Aug 2023 

PORTO VELHO (Brazil), Aug 6 — Environmentalists warn that the Brazilian Amazon could be in for a bad burning season despite a drop in deforestation this year, as years of accumulated destruction and the arrival of El Nino could turn swathes of the jungle into a tinderbox.

Flying near the city of Porto Velho this week to monitor the world’s largest rainforest, a Greenpeace team spotted several fires in the area during its hottest period of the year, which runs from July to September.

“We are now in the middle of the Amazonian summer, when we usually see an increase in fires,” said Greenpeace Brasil spokesman Romulo Batista, looking out over the forest from an airplane traveling over Amazonas state.

The height of the annual burning season usually falls in August and September, when fires tend to spike as rains subside, allowing ranchers and farmers to set fire to deforested areas.

In 2023, environmentalists and experts are on heightened alert, as the fire conditions may be aggravated by the El Nino weather pattern, which is expected to strengthen in October.

Deforestation in Brazil’s Amazon dropped 43 per cent in the first seven months of the year, according to preliminary government data, boosting President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva’s credibility as a regional voice for conservation.

But environmentalists say his government cannot let its guard down.

“It’s important (to keep control) because in the last four years large areas were deforested,” Batista said. “So there is a lot of organic material in the soil that can dry out and favour fires.”

Lula took office in January promising to end deforestation by 2030 after destruction surged under his predecessor Jair Bolsonaro, who slashed environmental protection efforts during his 2019-2022 presidency.

Lula is set to gather next week with leaders of Amazonian countries for a summit in northern Brazil to discuss ways to protect the rainforest. 

— Reuters

The Fight for Oak Flat: Indigenous voices in the green energy transition

OAK FLAT, Arizona — On a high plateau in the Tonto National Forest, Wendsler Nosie of the San Carlos Apache tribe lives in a small silver-colored trailer surrounded by tents, picnic tables. and towering oak trees.

This is the Oak Flat campground — a sacred site for thousands of Native Americans and home to what the Rio Tinto mining company claims is one of the largest undeveloped copper-ore deposits in the world, capable of producing 40 billion pounds of copper over the next 40 years.

“Right now, we're sitting in a place where angels reside,” Nosie said while settling into a camping chair under the shade of an oak tree. Christians call them angels, but to the Apache, they are Ga’an people, he explained.

“Here is the creation story of where a woman came to be, and where the holy ones came together,” he continued. “This is where we originated as people.”

This site is threatened by plans to mine copper. The block-cave method proposed by Resolution Copper, the British-Australian mining company owned by Rio Tinto and BHP that has rights to the land, would destroy Oak Flat. It works by undercutting rock, causing the copper ore to collapse into pre-constructed chambers for extraction. It would take place over 40 years and would leave behind a crater that is nearly two miles wide and 1,000 feet deep - almost the height of the Eiffel Tower.

Nosie has spent years of his life working to protect the site through court action and peaceful protest, and he isn’t alone. With 89% of the nation’s copper reserves located within 35 miles of Native American reservations, historically, religiously, and culturally significant lands are in jeopardy across the Southwest. 

The confiscation or destruction of sacred Indigenous land is not novel, but increasingly ambitious plans to make the transition away from fossil fuels have spurred unprecedented interest in clean-energy raw materials, and copper is a key component in electricity networks and renewable energy systems. An International Energy Agency scenario estimates that to meet the Paris Agreement’s goals for sustainable development by 2040, the amount of copper used in clean-energy technology would grow to 45% of total demand, almost twice its share in 2020.

A 3D model of the proposed mine at Oak Flat shows the crater it will leave - nearly two miles wide and 1000 feet deep. (Credit: Emma Ricketts)

A sacred site

The road to the Oak Flat campground is unpaved and winding, full of potholes big enough to warrant swerving. Across the arid landscape, tall oak trees and red-rock formations jut out of the hard-packed dirt. The sun is bright and shaded areas are sparse, but the 100-degree air is cooled by a constant breeze.

Peaceful and quiet, it feels like hours from civilization although it’s only about 40 miles east of Phoenix. Oak Flat, 48 miles west of the San Carlos Apache tribal reservation, is sacred to the San Carlos Apache as well as other Indigenous nations with ties to the area. 

Nosie, a former chairman of the San Carlos Apache tribe, moved to the site two years ago to protest the proposed mine. He announced the move in a letter to top officials in the U.S. Forest Service, the federal agency charged with managing the land. “I said I was vacating the reservation and coming home back to Oak Flat because of their negligence,” he said.

Gesturing upwards at the oak trees that produce abundant acorns, Noise said: “Some of these trees are over a thousand years old. They feed people, they feed animals, and they're going to be murdered. I want American people to understand - you will have murdered this place.”

As he said this, a strong gust of wind blew across the plateau, disturbing grasses and rattling tents. “You see what I mean?” Nosie asked, after a long minute of silence. “Spirits move. You have to be here to understand.”

Balancing priorities: critical minerals for a green-energy transition

The copper below Oak Flat was discovered in the early 1990s. Congress granted Resolution Copper rights to acquire the land in 2014, after the late Senator John McCain (R-Ariz.) attached a rider authorizing that to a defense appropriations bill.

Nosie remembers that night clearly. He had spent years campaigning against similar laws and land exchanges. After hearing rumors that it might be introduced in the late afternoon, he received confirmation it had passed around 11 p.m.

He stayed awake all night trying to come to terms with the outcome, he said. He thought of his tribe’s elders and children - including those yet to be born. Who would protect them against the mine’s impacts and the loss of this religious ground?

According to the legislation, the land will be transferred from the Tonto National Forest to Resolution Copper within 60 days after an environmental impact statement is released. This statement must identify measures to minimize adverse effects on cultural resources and the environment.

The stakeholders are still waiting. An initial impact statement, published in January 2021, was withdrawn when President Joseph Biden took office. The Forest Service told the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals in April that it would delay release of an updated version pending consultation with the affected tribes.

Nosie dismissed the proposed consultation as meaningless. “[The government] has to go ahead anyway, consultation is just checking a box,” he said. The legislation requires the land’s transfer regardless of the statement’s findings. 

Resolution Copper disputed this perspective. “Over the past decade, the information collected and the two-way dialogue with Native American Tribes and communities have helped significantly reshape the project,” it said in a written statement to Native News Online, adding that planners have altered the location of major facilities to avoid dozens of areas of cultural significance after those consultations.

Wendsler NosieWendsler Nosie. (Photo/Emma Ricketts)A wider issue

Oak Flat’s land transfer is governed by bespoke legislation passed by Congress, but Nosie’s fight reflects a challenge facing dozens of Indigenous communities in the Southwest.

The key law governing hard-rock mining was enacted in 1872, under President Ulysses S. Grant. It is outdated and heavily favors mining interests, said Blaine Miller-McFeeley of the environmental-law organization Earthjustice.

“A mining company can go, put four stakes in the ground, then head to the local Bureau of Land Management or Forest Service Office and hand them $150 and a few pieces of paper,” he explained. “Because of the way the [federal government] has interpreted the mining law for 150 years, they cannot deny the company or the person, so long as there are valuable minerals underneath where they put their stakes.”

Numerous attempts to amend the law have failed. “All the core pieces of the [1872 Act] are still in place,” Miller-McFeeley said. “The discretion, the lack of environmental standards … none of those core things have changed.”

However, Tim Crowley, vice president of government and community relations at the Lithium Americas mining company, said the 1872 mining law was never intended to protect Indigenous and environmental interests, and it should not be expected to do so.

“What gets lost in the sound bites is that U.S. laws and state laws have progressed,” he continued. “The mining law was never designed to be an environmental or a cultural protection law - that's why the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, National Environmental Protection Act, and the Historic Preservation Act continue to evolve.”

Lithium Americas started construction on a lithium mine at Thacker Pass, Nevada, in March. A February court ruling denied an allegation that it would violate local tribes’ right of access to historically and culturally significant sites. 

The mine is going ahead, and Indigenous interests are being protected, Crowley said. There was evidence of Native Americans making obsidian tools at the Thacker Pass site, for example, so these artifacts have been cataloged and treated in compliance with the Historic Preservation Act, he added. According to Crowley, Lithium Americas has also employed cultural monitors from the nearby Fort McDermitt Tribe to observe their work.

However, Will Falk, an attorney for the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony and the Summit Lake Paiute Tribe, says the laws are insufficient to meaningfully protect indigenous sites. Both of the tribes he represents are working to stop the Thacker Pass mine as well. The laws, he says, exist, “but they aren’t strong.” 

Construction is moving forward on the mine, but local indigenous communities are continuing to fight back with non-violent protests, rallies and grassroots activism. 

“If a company wants to mine underneath a sacred place and native communities say ‘hell no’, then it should be ‘hell no’,” Falk added. “But the American economy is completely based on extraction, and anyone who thinks that politicians, elected representatives or the courts are going to seriously impede the mining industry must be on drugs.”

Last year, the Ninth Circuit upheld a challenge by the Tohono O’odham Nation, the Pascua Yaqui Tribe, and the Hopi Tribe to the Forest Service’s approval of an open-pit copper mine in Arizona’s Santa Rita Mountains. It ruled that while the 1872 law authorizes mining for valuable minerals on public lands, it does not permit dumping mine waste on public land, saying that the Forest Service had disregarded “a century of precedent.”

But opponents argue these protections are superficial. “We totally support clean energy, but you need to think about the environment,” said Martina Dawley, a senior archeologist and member of the Hualapai tribe in Arizona. Her tribe is currently negotiating with the Bureau of Land Management to protect sacred and ancestral lands from a proposed lithium mine, she added.

In her view, alternatives like recycling warrant more attention. “From an Indigenous perspective, you never over-harvest and you don't destroy your resources,” she said. “You only take what you need and you make sure everyone can have some of that.”

Crowley countered that there’s not yet enough used lithium available for recycling to be viable. Lithium Americas could “absolutely” play a role in recycling in the future, he said, “but right now, we are 40 years away from recycling making a meaningful dent in supply.”

Oak Flat is a plateau atop a 3,900 foot hill in the Tonto National Forest, seen here from the town of Superior, Arizona. (Photo/Emma Ricketts)

The cost of clean energy

Henry Muñoz stood on the shoulder of the winding, uphill road leading to Oak Flat. He used to bike up here as a child and cool off in the valley’s swimming holes.

Muñoz is a retired miner, a resident of Superior, Arizona, and a member of the Concerned Citizens and Retired Miners Association. Surrounded by towering rock formations, he peered over a guardrail towards a deep canyon that winds its way back towards the town of Superior. He does not oppose mining in general; he spoke bluntly about the need for materials to make the transition away from coal and oil. But he does oppose the method and location of Resolution Copper’s proposed copper mine.

“Do we have to pollute areas so that others can flourish?” he asked. According to Muñoz, the block-cave mining method will cause irreversible damage. “There will be no turning back. You can’t refill the hole with anything, because the ground is constantly going to be caving in below it. It's like an underground earthquake that doesn't stop.”

Muñoz first became interested in the Oak Flat mine through concern for his town’s water supply. Now retired, he has dedicated a significant amount of time to educating his community about the risks.

The now-rescinded 2021 environmental impact statement showed that the mine will affect 18 to 20 groundwater-dependent ecosystems - including the aquifers, springs, and ponds that feed local communities, he said.

Resolution Copper claims to have developed plans to protect these waterways. “There will be no physical impact to Devil’s Canyon or Queen Creek … Resolution Copper will forgo portions of copper-bearing ore to minimize subsidence impacts to these important areas,” the company’s statement read. A spokesperson declined to give any further details. 

Mining history across the U.S. has consistently shown such promises to be superficial. Communities from Oklahoma to Colorado, California, and Vermont are dealing with irreversible effects on their waterways. The Associated Press, looking at 43 mine sites in 2019, estimated that they discharged an average of more than 50 million gallons a day of water contaminated with arsenic, lead, and other toxins.

Regardless, said Nosie, these environmental concerns are irrelevant to the fate of Oak Flat. As noted above, the land must be transferred within 60 days of the environmental impact statement irrespective of its findings.

Instead, Nosie’s grass-roots organization, Apache Stronghold, has pursued a lawsuit based on religious freedoms. In 2021, they sought a federal court injunction against the land being transferred to Resolution Copper, with arguments relying on the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, which forbids the government from substantially burdening another person’s exercise of religion.

The federal district court ruled against them and the Ninth Circuit rejected their appeal, but in late 2022, the appeals court agreed to rehear the case with a full panel of 11 judges. Oral arguments were presented in March, and the parties are awaiting judgment.

The religious-freedom law has never been applied to a Native American religion, and Nosie is anxious to see how it will play out. It is about much more than a copper mine, he said: It is an opportunity for America to start healing the scars created by colonization.

No matter the outcome, he expects either party will appeal to the Supreme Court. “This case is going to set the precedent for what’s going to happen next. If we lose it and the system and the people fail us, it will be a free-for-all. But if the system fails us and the people don’t, healing is coming. And if the system and the people help together, it’s coming quicker.”

Emma Ricketts reported this story as a graduate student at Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism, where she specialized in Politics, Policy and Foreign Affairs. Prior to Medill, she practiced as a lawyer in New Zealand focusing on climate-related risk and public law issues. 

 Indian Country

Legendary Native American Singer Buffy St. Marie Retires from Live Performances

BY LEVI RICKERT AUGUST 04, 2023

Award-winning singer and song-writer Buffy Sainte-Marie (Piapot Cree Nation) is retiring from live performances. The retirement of the 82-year-old singer was announced Thursday evening through her publicist.

The announcement cited a combination of contributing factors including travel-induced health concerns and performance-inhibiting physical challenges that led to her decision to retire at this time from live performances.

“I have made the difficult decision to pull out of all scheduled performances in the foreseeable future. Arthritic hands and a recent shoulder injury have made it no longer possible to perform to my standards. Sincere regrets to all my fans and family, my band and the support teams that make it all possible,” Sainte-Marie said in a statement provided through her publicist.

Sainte-Marie entered the music scene during the 1960s by singing in folk music clubs. She is multi-talented, who is a singer-songwriter, musician, composer, and visual artist.

Her music speaks out about the environment, alternative conflict resolution, Indigenous truth, and fighting corruption. Sainte-Marie is a unique force in the music industry

Sainte-Marie became a Native American activist during the Red Power movement, which gave voice to Native American concerns and issues. Her artistry, humanitarian efforts, and Indigenous leadership have made a positive impact for decades.

Through the decades, Sainte-Marie has garnered numerous awards, including an Oscar and a Golden Globe Award in 1983 for co-writing the hit song Up to Where We Belong.

 Indian Country

Researcher names recently discovered 500-million-year-old sea worm after ‘Dune’ monster

By Ashley R. Williams, CNN
Sun August 6, 2023


Reconstruction of Shaihuludia shurikeni from the Spence Shale of Utah. Artistic reconstruction of an adult specimen by Rhiannon LaVine.Courtesy Rhiannon LaVine/University of Kansas
CNN —

A University of Kansas paleontologist exploring an area known for its fossils recently uncovered a never-before-discovered ancient sea worm – and showed off her “nerdy” side while naming it.

When Rhiannon LaVine found the 500-million-year-old fossil, the research associate with the university’s Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum was carrying out fieldwork with a team working on the geologic formation called the Spence Shale.

The formation is located along northern Utah and southern Idaho, according to a university news release.


Rhiannon LaVine collects fossils from one of the Spence Shale outcrops in northern Utah.
Courtesy Rhiannon LaVine/University of Kansas

“One of the last times we were out there, I split open one of these pieces of rock and instantly knew it was something that wasn’t typical,” LaVine said in a statement. “The first thing we see are these radial blades that look like stars or flowers.”

She said she quickly showed it to Julian Kimmig, the lead author on the study exploring the annelids.

“He was perplexed, he said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like that,’” LaVine said.


This SEM-micrograph image illustrates the Shaihuludia shurikeni fossil, showing the ghost of soft tissue preservation beneath the worm's characteristic chaetae bundles.
Courtesy Rhiannon LaVine/University of Kansas

In a career first, LaVine had the honor of naming the fossil worm as the person who discovered it and as a co-author of the paper focused on it, according to the University of Kansas.

“I’ve been involved in describing species before, but this is the first one I’ve named,” LaVine said in a statement. “Actually, I was able to name its genus, so I can put that feather in my cap.”

Inspired by the indigenous name for the worms featured in Frank Herbert’s “Dune” novels – Shai-Hulud – the paleontologist gave the discovery the scientific name of Shaihuludia shurikeni.


Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya return to Arrakis in first official 'Dune: Part Two' trailer


“It was the first thing that came to mind, because I’m a big ol’ nerd and at the time I was getting really excited for the ‘Dune’ movies,” LaVine said.

“Shuriken” means “throwing star” in Japanese and represents the shape of the stiff, blade-like bristles of the ancient sea worm that many other annelids also have, according to the university.

LaVine and her co-authors described the sea worm as “about 7 or 8 centimeters long, maybe a little shorter than the length of a smartphone.” They found that the fossil, which is a previously unknown annelid species, is a diverse phylum of around 21,000 segmented worm species found worldwide in freshwater, marine and terrestrial environments, the University of Kansas reported.

The Historical Biology peer-reviewed journal recently published the findings.

The fossil specimen is now part of the University of Kansas Biodiversity Institute’s permanent paleontological collection.
Ukrainians move to North Dakota for oil field jobs to help families facing war back home



Ukrainian refugees are finding work in North Dakota’s oil industry–which has struggled to fill jobs. Bakken GROW connects Ukrainian recruits to sponsors through the Uniting for Ukraine program, allowing them to be “paroled” into the country and work for up to two years.

BY JACK DURA
 August 5, 2023

DICKINSON, N.D. (AP) — Maksym Bunchukov remembers hearing rockets explode in Zaporizhzhia as the war in Ukraine began.

“It was terrible,” he said. He and his wife sent their adult daughter west to Lviv for safety and joined her later with their pets.

Now, about 18 months after the war broke out, Bunchukov is in North Dakota, like thousands of Ukrainians who came over a century ago.

He is one of 16 new arrivals who are part of a trade group’s pilot effort through the Uniting for Ukraine humanitarian program to recruit refugees and migrants during a workforce shortage. Twelve more Ukrainians are scheduled to arrive by Aug. 15 as part of the North Dakota Petroleum Council’s Bakken Global Recruitment of Oilfield Workers program.

Pipeline operators to pay $12.5M after crude oil spills in Montana, North Dakota

Some workers want to bring their families to North Dakota while others hope to return to Ukraine.

“I will try to invite my wife, invite my daughter, invite my cat and invite my dog,” Bunchukov told The Associated Press a week after his arrival.

The Bakken program has humanitarian and workforce missions, said Project Manager Brent Sanford, a former lieutenant governor who watched the Bakken oil rush unfold during his time as mayor of boomtown Watford City from 2010 to 2016.

The oil boom initially was met by an “organic workforce” of western North Dakotans with experience in oil field jobs elsewhere, but as the economy reeled from the Great Recession, thousands of people flocked to the Bakken oil field from other states and even other countries to fill high-wage jobs, Sanford said.

Technological advances for combining horizontal drilling and fracking — injecting high-pressure mixtures of water, sand and chemicals into rocks — made capturing the oil locked deep underground possible.

“People came by planes, trains and automobiles, every way possible from everywhere for the opportunity for work,” Council President Ron Ness said. “They were upside down on their mortgage, their life or whatever, and they could reset in North Dakota.”

But the 2015 downturn, coronavirus pandemic and other recent shocks probably led workers back to their home states, especially if moving meant returning to warmer and bigger cities, Sanford said. Workforce issues have become “very acute” in the last 10 months, Ness said.

Ness estimated there are roughly 2,500 jobs available in an oil field producing about 1.1 million barrels per day. Employers don’t advertise for every individual job opening, but post once or twice for many open positions, he said.

An immigration law firm told Ness that Uniting for Ukraine would fit well for North Dakota given its Ukrainian heritage, similar climate and agrarian people, he said.

The program’s sponsors, including company owners, managers and employees, agree to help Ukrainians find work, health care, schools for their children and safe and affordable housing.

About 160 Ukrainians have arrived in North Dakota, the majority in Bismarck, as part of Uniting for Ukraine, according to State Refugee Coordinator Holly Triska-Dally.

Applications from prospective sponsors from around the state have “gone up considerably” in recent months, likely due to more awareness but also Ukrainians who are “working and beginning to thrive” and filing to support their family, she said.

The two dozen or so Ukrainians might not seem like many arrivals on national or statewide scales, but they will make a significant difference for cities like Minot and Dickinson. The cities haven’t traditionally been major resettlement hubs, but now “there’s a strong likelihood” the workers’ families will join them, adding to the economy and schools, Triska-Dally said.

Bunchukov, who had jobs in mechanics and furniture sales in Ukraine, works for road contractor Baranko Bros. Inc. He and other new arrivals have experience in Alaska’s seafood industry. Others have worked on cruise ships or held different seasonal jobs. Because of those jobs, many workers already hold Social Security numbers and have studied English, Sanford said.

Dmytro Haiman, who said his English skills steered him toward the Bakken program, recalled sheltering with relatives in his grandmother’s cellar as the war began and bombs fell on his hometown, Chernihiv. In the first months of the war he drove people west to safety and brought canned food, medicine and even generators to Chernihiv amid supply shortages.

He told the AP he expected to work in water transportation and hopes to earn enough money to help his family, “to help us to rebuild our country.”

The Bakken program aims to recruit 100 workers by the end of 2023, and 400 after one year. Those 400 may not all be Ukrainians. Some will drive, start in shops or build roads, pads and fences, “everything from there up to well site operations,” Ness said.

The workers will start in construction and other basic jobs starting at $20 an hour and can rise quickly. They also can leave their jobs or the state while they’re in the Uniting for Ukraine program, which grants “humanitarian parole” lasting two years with a goal of a longer path beyond, but that depends on the federal government, Sanford said.

Four translators help workers with forms, training and community acclimation, Sanford said. One employer has rented eight apartments for workers, while others are in extended-stay hotels until they can find apartments.

Glenn Baranko, president of the contractor building paths to drilling rigs and providing environmental services in the oil field, planned to assign jobs to five initial workers based on their skillsets.

The labor shortage led his company to hire a full-time recruiter, “but there’s still a need,” said Baranko, whose great-grandfather came to the area from Ukraine.

At a recent lunch for several workers hosted by the Ukrainian Cultural Institute in Dickinson, the new arrivals crowded around a map to point out their hometowns. The cooks laid out dishes of rice rolls, beet bread, deviled eggs and filled dumplings called perogies.

The institute preserves the area’s Ukrainian heritage and has raised more than $10,000 for humanitarian aid since the war began in February 2022, institute Executive Director Kate Kessel said.

Mannequins wearing traditional garb, displays of decorated eggs and a Ukrainian library fill the institute’s space. A large banner bearing “Peace to Ukraine” stood over the people eating lunch at tables.

Ivan Sakivskyi, who works for Baranko, said he looks forward to opportunities for promotion, such as driving heavy equipment, and gaining new experience.

Though he doesn’t plan to live long-term in the U.S., Sakivskyi said he would like to return for work after visiting loved ones in his home country.

“My heart and my soul” are in Ukraine. “It’s my friends,” the Odesa native said. “It’s my family.”




As clinics pivot post-Roe, battle rages over syringe service in opioid-ravaged West Virginia

Iris Sidikman, harm reduction coordinator at the Women’s Health Center of West Virginia, poses for a portrait beside a syringe disposal box in the clinic parking lot on Thursday, August 4, 2023, in Charleston, W.Va. 


BY LEAH WILLINGHAM
August 5, 2023

CHARLESTON, W.Va. (AP) — Staff at Women’s Health Center of West Virginia know what it’s like to provide controversial health services that government officials have sought to ban or restrict.

The Charleston clinic was the state’s only abortion provider for years until the state Legislature passed a near-total ban on the procedure last year. The clinic remained open, providing other reproductive care. Now it’s trying to open a syringe service program for drug users, which is another contentious health service that has been regulated by Republican lawmakers in the deep red state.

The proposal, which is scheduled to go before Charleston City Council for a pivotal vote Monday, comes as abortion providers across the country are pivoting or expanding services post-Roe, often to other hard-to-access care for marginalized communities they say face stigma and barriers similar to abortion patients

Some, like the Women’s Health Center of West Virginia, have added gender-affirming services for transgender adults, like hormone therapy. Additionally, the West Virginia clinic and another in Oklahoma are incorporating harm reduction services, which work to mitigate co-occurring health impacts of intravenous drug use such as HIV.


Former abortion clinic pleads with residents to keep ‘open mind’ about syringe service program


The Charleston clinic already offers wound care, substance use disorder treatment referrals and opioid-overdose reversal drug training. But it faces an uphill battle in syringe service for West Virginia, the U.S. state with the highest rate of opioid overdoses. In 2021, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention declared Charleston, the state capital, the scene of the country’s “most concerning HIV outbreak” due to intravenous drug use.

Almost everyone in West Virginia has been impacted by addiction and loss in some way, and many people have firmly-held beliefs about the best way to treat addiction and those suffering from it, beliefs that often conflict despite shared experience.

Pam Stevens, who lost her 44-year-old son Adam to a drug overdose, lives a block from the Women’s Health Center. She believes the program will unintendedly enable those who are addicted.

At a recent public hearing, she called the idea to locate a syringe service program at the long-time abortion clinic “an abomination.”

“Let the Women’s Health Center do what it’s supposed to do: provide quality health care to women, not drug addicts needing needles,” Stevens said.

Danni Dineen, who contracted hepatitis C from intravenous drug use, said a syringe service program she attended in the throes of her addiction was about more than getting access to needles. Addictions specialists built up a trust and rapport with her, and ultimately helped get her into treatment.

Without syringe service, “I honestly and truthfully do not believe that I’d be standing here before you today,” said Dineen, a coordinator for city-run services for people struggling with substance use, mental health disorders and homelessness.

Syringe service programs operate by allowing people to exchange dirty syringes used to inject drugs for clean, sterile ones. They are CDC-recommended methods to curb the spread of infection and typically offer a range of services, including referrals to counseling and substance use disorder treatment.

Such programs exist nationwide, but they are not without critics, who say they don’t do enough to prevent drug use. That’s despite CDC research showing people with syringe service are more likely to recover.

West Virginia Health Right in Charleston offers a syringe service, but it is only a small component of the organization’s services, which target underinsured populations. In 2022, for every 100 syringes given out by a program in the slightly smaller city of Morgantown, home to the state’s flagship university, Health Right gave out fewer than one, according to state-collected data.

West Virginia Republican Gov. Jim Justice signed a law in 2021 requiring syringe providers to be licensed with the state and recipients to show proof of residency and return each needle after use.

The Charleston City Council followed with an ordinance requiring programs to collect at least 90% of the syringes distributed. Exchange programs violating the restrictions can be charged with a misdemeanor criminal offense, adding fines of $500 to $1,000 per offense. The programs also must be approved by the council and county commission.

The Women’s Health Center is on Charleston’s west side, an area that historically has seen the city’s highest percentage of emergency overdose calls.

In the year since the abortion prohibition, executive director Katie Quinonez spearheaded the launch of the Women’s Health Center of Maryland, a sister clinic directly across the state border. Charleston providers can refer people to the Maryland clinic and cover the procedure cost using its abortion fund.

Quinonez’s staff looked to other areas where they could leverage their medical resources in West Virginia: “Looking at the data, harm reduction was at the top of the list.”

Both practices “respect that people are the experts of what they need and what’s best for their life, that the patient and their body is the most qualified clinician in the exam room,” Quinonez said.

The program would operate under restrictions outlined in state and city code, but with some provisions attempting to make it more accessible, like allowing people without state-issued IDs to use letters from homeless shelters or rehab.

But some feel one program is more than enough, and the Women’s Health Center is the last place they want to see another.

Phil Chatting, who described himself as a long-term volunteer at the anti-abortion crisis pregnancy center next to the Women’s Health Center, said he believes the program would pose a danger to families going there for resources.

“Are we more interested in providing assistance to drug users than we are in protecting innocent bystanders?” said Chatting, who is listed as the center’s principal officer in December 2022 nonprofit filings. “That user at some point in their life made a choice to willfully use a drug, as opposed to that mother who is simply attempting to provide for her family.”

Anti-abortion sentiment, and the beliefs underlying it, are still prevalent, said Iris Sidikman, the Women’s Health Center harm reduction coordinator. During months of canvassing the neighborhood to discuss the proposal, one resident asked: “So, your clinic’s going to be handing out needles and abortions?”

“That kind of comment shows to me that folks who didn’t respect the abortion work that we are doing also don’t respect the harm reduction work that we’re doing,” Sidikman said.


Iris Sidikman, harm reduction coordinator at the Women’s Health Center of West Virginia, holds fentanyl testing strips the clinic has on hand to give people dealing with substance use disorder in the clinic parking lot on Thursday, Aug. 4, 2023, in Charleston, W.Va. 

City of Charleston Quick Response Team Coordinator Danni Dineen, a recovering heroin user, speaks in support of a proposal from the Women’s Health Center of West Virginia to add a syringe service program to its offerings during a public hearing at the Goodwill Prosperity Center in Charleston, W.Va. on Thursday, July 27, 2023.

 Women’s Health Center of West Virginia Harm Reduction Coordinator Iris Sidikmanspeaks about a proposal from the clinic to add a syringe service its offerings during a public hearing at the Goodwill Prosperity Center in Charleston, W.Va. on Thursday, July 27, 2023. 

Phil Chatting, a worker at the anti-abortion crisis pregnancy center Woman’s Choice Pregnancy Resource Center speaks against a proposal from the long-time abortion provider Women’s Health Center of West Virginia to add a syringe service its offerings during a public hearing at the Goodwill Prosperity Center in Charleston, W.Va., on Thursday, July 27, 2023.

 AP Photos/Leah Willingham

Majority of Americans Believe Trump Planned to Hold Office ‘Illegally,’ Also Think Legal Troubles Meant to Stop 2024 Campaign: Poll

Data from CBS/YouGov shows a large split between parties on the former president's guilt and mounting charges

Published 08/06/23 

More than half of Americans believe Donald Trump tried to hold onto the presidency "illegally," but also believe that his mounting legal troubles are an effort to thwart his 2024 campaign, according to a new poll.

Just over 50% believe Trump planned to hold onto office "illegally or unconstitutionally" after the 2020 election, while 29% believed he planned to stay in office legally. Another 20% believe he did not plan on staying, according to a CBS News/YouGov survey released on Sunday.

The former president continues to insist there was widespread fraudulence in 2020, though his claims have gone unproven.
Donald Trump speaks to supporters during a political rally at Erie Insurance Arena in Erie, PennsylvaniaJeff Swensen/Getty Images

An Increasing Number of Americans Believe Political Violence Is Justified: Report

Trump's conspiracy theories about the election are also tied to his third indictment, which charges him with four counts of criminal conspiracy related to his efforts to overturn election results leading up to the January 6 Capitol riot.

Over 50% believe if Trump had remained in office, they would consider it "undermining" democracy," while 17% called it "upholding" democracy.

Most — 59% — say the various investigations into Trump are an effort to stop his 2024 campaign, according to the data. Even with the alleged political bias, a majority describe the indictments as "upholding the law" and "defending democracy."

Among Republicans, that number jumps to 86%. Only 31% of Democrats describe the indictments the same way.

The CBS/YouGov poll as conducted among more than 2100 U.S. adults between August 2-4 and it has a margin of error of 2.9%.
Judge Orders Federal Agency to Justify Deadly Nevada Wild Horse Roundup

31 mustangs died in 26 days in the stressful, searing captures

Published 08/05/23
A livestock helicopter pilot rounds up wild horses in Washoe County 
(AP Photo/Brad Horn, File)

RENO, Nev. (AP) — A judge has asked federal land managers to explain why they should be allowed to continue capturing more than 2,500 wild horses in northeastern Nevada — a roundup opponents say is illegal and has left 31 mustangs dead in 26 days.

Wild Horse Education, a nonprofit seeking to protect the horses, has sued the Bureau of Land Management and is seeking a court order to temporarily halt the roundup halfway between Reno and Salt Lake City.

Among other things, it says the agency is violating its own safety standards that prohibit roundups in extreme heat and the use of helicopters to assist in the capture of the animals when foals are present.

More than 260 foals are among the 2,643 animals that have been rounded up for transport to government holding pens since July 9, the agency said on its website Saturday. Several-hundred more are expected to be gathered before the roundup ends Aug. 22.


Democratic U.S. Rep. Dina Titus, of Nevada, has introduced a bill that would outlaw the use of helicopters under any circumstances to assist wranglers on horseback chasing the mustangs into traps — makeshift corals on the high-desert range.

She urged the chairman of the House Natural Resources Committee this week to expedite a hearing on her proposal due to the horse deaths, including one with a broken leg that was chased for 35 minutes before it was euthanized.

“Despite BLM’s directive to `humanely capture’ wild free-roaming horses and burros ... the use of helicopters routinely creates frightening and deadly situations for horses as demonstrated in recent weeks,” Titus said.

“These horses have suffered through a host of tragic injuries, ranging from broken necks, broken legs and even dehydration due to the oppressive triple digit heat,” she wrote in a letter to the committee chairman, Republican U.S. Rep. Bruce Westerman, of Arkansas, and ranking U.S. Rep. Raul Grijalva, D-Ariz.

“Without meaningful reforms, BLM’s operations will continue to kill off these icons of the West in completely avoidable circumstances,” she wrote.

So far, U.S. District Judge Larry Hicks in Reno has declined to grant the Aug. 1 request for a temporary restraining order to halt the Nevada roundup. But on Friday, he put the agency on notice it has until 4 p.m. Monday to formally respond to the allegations of illegal mistreatment of the animals.

He set a hearing for Wednesday to hear more detailed arguments if necessary from lawyers on both sides.

Nevada is home to nearly two-thirds of the 68,928 wild horses the bureau estimated on March 1 were roaming federal lands in 10 Western states stretching from California to Montana.

The bureau said in a court filing Wednesday that its latest roundup, which began July 9 between Elko and Ely near the Utah border, is a “crucial gather” because overpopulated herds are seriously damaging the range.

It said the estimated 6,852 horses there is nearly 14 times what the land can ecologically sustain. It says roundups typically have a mortality rate of less than 1%.

Critics say the real purpose of the removals is to appease ranchers who don’t want horses competing with their livestock for precious forage in the high desert, where annual precipitation averages less than 10 inches (25 centimeters).

Wild Horse Education’s motion for a temporary restraining order says there’s no legitimate reason to conduct the current roundup in extreme heat with helicopters when foals are present, “especially when the BLM has plenty of time to conduct this gather in a humane manner as the law requires.”

“Without injunctive relief, plaintiffs will continue to be permanently and irrevocably harmed in witnessing the atrocious and horrific sights of wild horses and burros dying due to the inhumane handling, extreme heat and use of helicopters during foaling season.”

This article was written by Scott Sonner
6 months after a devastating earthquake, Turkey’s preparedness is still uncertain


The remains of buildings destroyed during the earthquake are pictured in Antakya, southeastern Turkey Saturday, Aug. 5, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation.

BY ROBERT BADENDIECK
August 6, 2023

ISTANBUL, Turkey (AP) — Dust and rubble fill the street as an excavator tears off chunks of concrete from an old apartment building. Bystanders and former residents watch from afar as construction equipment tears down the structure. Among the bystanders is Ibrahim Ozaydin, 30, a former resident. He watches the demolition not with worry, but with relief, as his building was marked by officials as unsafe months ago.

Ozaydin and his family were shocked to learn that the municipality deemed his building uninhabitable. “We decided to build our own house,” he told The Associated Press as he watched his former home being torn down. “Instead of living in a poorly built house, let us take our own precautions.”

The sight of construction vehicles demolishing buildings became engrained in Turkish minds six months ago today, after a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of Feb. 6.

Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. The International Labor Organization estimates that some 658,000 people were left jobless. As for the material cost, some 300,000 buildings were damaged. Survivors needed to be rescued, rubble to be cleared and buildings on the verge of collapse torn down.

Yet this latest demolition is taking place in Istanbul, Turkey’s largest metropolis, far away from the earthquake zone. This time the building wasn’t torn down as part of search-and-rescue efforts, but to prevent such harrowing scenes in the future.

The building was occupied only by Ozaydin and his extended family, who also owned a shop on the ground floor. The family managed to relocate their shop and build a new, sturdier house at a different location, but theirs is an exceptional story in a city where hundreds of thousands of buildings are at risk and property prices are soaring.

Istanbul lies atop a major fault line, one which experts warn could break at any moment. In a bid to prevent damage from any future quake, both the national government and local administrations are racing against time to alleviate the pain of the February quake while also preparing their cities for potential disasters in the future.

However, even preparedness can fall victim to political rivalry: the authorities in opposition-held Istanbul municipality and the national government in Ankara cannot agree on the exact number of buildings at risk of crumbling in the event of an earthquake. But both put the figure at hundreds of thousands.

After the February tragedy, the Istanbul municipality headed by Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, a prominent figure in the opposition to President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, earmarked for demolition 318 buildings housing over 10,000 people.

Bugra Gokce, an official with the Istanbul municipality overseeing the demolition, said, “We are identifying buildings at risk of collapse and fortifying others, all to reduce the potential loss of life.”

During a heated election campaign right before his re-election to a third decade in power, Erdogan pledged to construct 319,000 new homes within the year. He attended many groundbreaking ceremonies as he persuaded voters that only he could rebuild lives and businesses.

“It’s easy to say, ‘we are building this many square meters atop a hill’ or ’5,000 residences are being built somewhere,” adds Gokce, in an apparent jab at the national government’s urban transformation programs. “We are also doing that. But if you’re not also reducing the risk to existing buildings in the city, it is nothing more than urban expansion.”

Both experts and Erdogan critics argue that the sheer scale of February’s destruction was due to the president’s weak enforcement of building codes amidst a construction boom that helped drive economic growth.

Ankara launched several programs aimed at inspecting damaged buildings both in and outside the 11 provinces hit by the earthquake. Meanwhile victims have been offered both financial aid and a chance to resettle in public housing projects built by the Housing Development Administration of Turkey, or TOKI.

Although many promises were made by both the ruling party and the opposition in the leadup to the elections in May, those still in the earthquake-affected provinces are demanding faster action.

Lawyer Mehmet Ali Gumus in Hatay province, one of the worst hit by the earthquake, told The Associated Press that people were starting to lose hope. He said there were no signs of reconstruction in Hatay, and that the emergency shelter situation in Antakya, Hatay’s most populated city, was deteriorating by the day.

People are living in metal shipping containers and tents in sweltering heat that can reach up to 42 degrees Celsius (107 Fahrenheit) without any access to air conditioning. Residents must also contend with flies, snakes and other wildlife while living outdoors, according to Gumus.

Another health risk is the rubble from collapsed buildings, which is being dumped on farmland, shores, and even right outside encampments where survivors are staying. “Everyone around me says that we survived the earthquake, but they’ll be dealing with cancer in 5-10 years because of the asbestos (from the rubble),” adds Gumus.

In a social media post on July 15, the Hatay governor’s office stated that levels of asbestos in the rubble are safe and below the “regulatory limit.” Results showing low amount of asbestos taken from samples collected in debris dumping grounds were also posted.

While Hatay residents deal with the elements and other environmental hazards, their future remains uncertain.

“There were concrete statements before the elections, but afterwards we stopped hearing anything concrete,” continues Gumus, claiming that the government has not committed to securing new houses for victims or even to fortifying their existing residences. “Six months after the disaster we should be talking about newly built residences, not lines of people waiting for water,” he adds.

Another Hatay resident, Bestami Coskuner, was leaving for the western province of Izmir because of the power cuts and water shortages in his hometown.

“Tap water is not potable, but people use it to wash. Pipes burst daily, and power is cut two or three times a day,” Coskuner told The Associated Press. He said water was rationed, and some who drank from the tap came down with serious illnesses.

“You can’t easily drink water. In a place where you can’t easily drink water, how are you going to make any decisions? Even bottled water tastes bad in Hatay,” he added.

Victims of the earthquake have already had to deal with the aftermath of a disaster, the worst cost of living crisis in decades, and a highly polarizing election. They’ll have only had a brief break from politics as Turkey heads to hotly contested municipal elections in March. Erdogan, fresh off his victory in national elections last May, has vowed to take back the metropolitan cities he lost in 2019.

One of Erdogan’s campaign strategies had been a focus on providing housing and aid in the earthquake regions. The government made sure to provide amenities, shelter, and financial aid for earthquake victims.

His perceived support for the victims was one of the factors that enabled Erdogan’s party to hold on to power in most of the provinces hit by the earthquake, despite accusations of being responsible for the devastation with his lax enforcement of building codes and the perception of poor emergency response by the government.

Experts like professor Naci Gorur, a geologist and member of the Science Academy, have been warning of a potential earthquake in Istanbul and other provinces for years. He told the Associated Press that the “steps taken were far outweighed by those not taken,” and that Istanbul is not ready for a potential earthquake with the current state of structures and building codes.

Gorur described the soil in the affected regions as causing buildings to “resonate,” making it even more difficult for such structures to stay intact during earthquakes. The quake occurred in a seismically active area known as the East Anatolian fault zone, which has produced damaging earthquakes in the past, such as the 7.4 magnitude quake near Istanbul in 1999, in which an estimated 18,000 people died.

“We could have prepared the whole of Turkey for an earthquake, not just Istanbul, if we had started working with the ministry to make our at-risk provinces earthquake-resistant. If we had distanced ourselves from politics, if policies were not left to the whims of new administrations, and if there had been a serious budget and determination,” said Gorur.

“I have no doubts as to government’s good intentions, but if you are going to do something, do it properly. You don’t rush things like these,” he said, adding that instead of rushing permanent buildings, the government should have focused on maintaining temporary residences while conducting proper studies for the building of permanent structures which comply with “scientific principles.”
___

Associated Press reporter Cinar Kiper in Bodrum, Turkey contributed.


Two boys sit on a side and watch an excavator demolishing an old apartment building in Istanbul, Turkey, Friday, Aug. 4, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. 

The remains of buildings destroyed during the earthquake are pictured in Antakya, southeastern Turkey Saturday, Aug. 5, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation.


An excavator works on the site of a new governmental housing project in Istanbul, Turkey, Friday, Aug. 4, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. 

People on a side watch an excavator demolishing an old apartment building in Istanbul, Turkey, Friday, Aug. 4, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. 


 An elderly man sits in the backyard of a house in the Fatih old district of Istanbul, Turkey, Tuesday, April 29, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. 


Two men watch the smoke rising from a building in Antakya, southern Turkey, Wednesday, Feb. 8, 2023. Six months ago today, a devastating 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit the Kahramanmaras and 10 other provinces in southern Turkey on the morning of February 6th. Over 50,000 people died, and hundreds of thousands were left homeless, sheltering in tents and other temporary accommodation. 

AP Photos/Khalil Hamra