Eleven years ago, on November 13th, 2002, a hard, driving rain was stinging and the winds were screaming at gale force at sea and loudly enough on land. I had gone to Santiago de Compostela with my mother that afternoon because she had a doctor's appointment. As we were coming back, close to nightfall, I had the radio on and I heard a news bulletin on the hour telling us there was an oil tanker offshore that was having trouble with the heaving sea. It wasn't the first time during a storm that a boat or ship had sent a call for help and that it got on the news. It didn't sound good, nothing like that ever does, but in a storm like that only to be expected. Later, on the news that evening, they mentioned that the ship was in serious trouble and some crew members had been evacuated as a precaution.
The next morning we woke up to the information that it had come in toward land and that it was leaking part of its cargo of oil. It was a few miles offshore in front of Muxía, a small town mostly dedicated to fishing. The first oil stains were appearing onshore and people were suddenly worried that this could lead to something worse. Many in that area saw their livelihood threatened. The captain wanted to be towed into a port to get out of rough seas and empty the hull of its cargo before much more was lost. The Spanish authorities, caught off guard without any contingency plans for such an event, denied Captain Apostolos Mangouras the request. They did send two tow boats, but they towed the tanker out to sea, towards the northwest. The captain refused to turn on his engines to continue going out to sea, saying that would put the tanker in danger of sinking. A hole had been pounded open in its side by fierce waves,
and as the cargo emptied, the sea rushed in, causing further damage. As the oil continued to reach the shore, the results started to appear. The port of Muxía became covered in oil, including the streets and houses closest to the sea. People started to clean up the slick as well as they could, and volunteers began to look for and save any animal they could find affected by oil, which were plenty.
The captain was forced to turn on the engines. The ship continued to be sent northwest into open waters until the engines died and the hole in the side was carved into a wide open view of the hull. Tow boats pulled it further out while the rest of the crew was evacuated and only the captain remained on board. All the while its cargo was being emptied into the sea and, fanning out over hundreds of miles, reached the Spanish, Portuguese and eventually, the French coast. On the nineteenth of November, as it was towed towards the southwest, it neared Portuguese waters, and the Portuguese navy told them they had no authorization to enter those waters. But it never reached them because that day the captain was taken off the tanker and it sank that afternoon.
Meanwhile, on land, people were starting to mobilize. The oil spill was threatening to enter the rías, or bays, where there are mussel farms that feed most of the economy of the coast. The bateas feed many families, directly and indirectly, and the bateeiros or mussel farmers, resorted to taking the oil out of the sea directly into their boats, as a desperate measure to save their livelihood. The only thing the government provided them with was bins to dump the oil on land. The bateeiros risked their health and their boats to prevent an ecological disaster.
Fishing and shellfish gathering stopped. The only boats that could go out to sea were the ones that went to recover as much oil as possible before it affected marine life irreparably. During that time the government paid the fishermen a small pension in compensation for the loss of their incomes. But that pension didn't take into account that it was one of the busiest and most lucrative working moments for them, especially the shellfish gatherers, because of the Christmas season. These people make most of their yearly income during this season, but that year that income disappeared.
The beautiful, rugged coastline of Galicia was turning black and thousands of volunteers showed up from all over Spain and parts of Europe to help clean it up. Lines of white overalled people crawled over rocks and down cliffs to return the coast to its natural beauty. The Galicians discovered they were not alone.
These volunteers, however, were exposing themselves to health risks. Five years later some of them were examined and found to suffer pulmonary, cardiovascular and chromosomal diseases for which they had not been at risk before.
People became angry with the government. Despite the black-stained beaches filled with people cleaning up the spill with bare hands and bateeiros doing the same out at the mouths of the rías, the deputy prime minister at that time, Mariano Rajoy (now prime minister, to our disgrace) maintained there was no black tide, only scattered stains. The defense minister, Federico Trillo, said the beaches of Galicia were wonderful. They denied what the residents here were seeing with their own eyes. No wonder a fisherman exploded at a visiting representative of the government in Ribeira, screaming at him that the authorities were doing nothing, waving his oil stained hands in the representative's face. Manuel Fraga, the president of Galicia at that time, wasn't even in Galicia during the first week of the disaster. He had gone hunting somewhere in Castilla and didn't even bother to show up. The prime minister, José María Aznar, famous for reacting firmly along with George Bush against Sadam Hussein, didn't even visit the area until the middle of December or acknowledge the government made a mistake in its lack of immediate and firm reaction.
The authorities had thought that by towing the tanker far out to sea and letting it sink there was the best remedy. But they failed to realize that the hull, at that depth, was deteriorating quickly and letting oil escape. So, a plan was set up. Special containers were made, a special submarine was sent to the bottom to pierce the hull. The containers were filled with the sticky black cargo and floated to the surface, where they were picked up and pulled aboard a ship. In that way they emptied most of the tanker, but some oil still remains down there, and, as the hull decays, some day we will see black stains on the beaches from Portugal to France.
Over the years the physical reminders of the oil spill have disappeared. But oil also has invisible components that wreak havoc with the environment and our health. As I mentioned, volunteers years later are dealing with illnesses they wouldn't have gotten otherwise. And the fishing industry is not what it was. There's less fish and shellfish. Certain areas never recuperated. Oil remained on the sea bed for many months and is probably still there in certain areas, underneath the sediments and affecting marine life. But only a few months after the spill the government said everything was back to normal and totally recuperated. A few days ago some fishermen were interviewed and said they had had to change some of the areas where they fish near the coast because there simply aren't any fish.
A year ago the trial began against the captain Apostolos Mangouras, the chief engineer Nikolaos Argyropoulos, and the then-head of the Spanish merchant navy José Luís Lopéz-Sors. They were accused of crimes against the environment. They, and the second mate of the tanker who did not show up for the trial, were the only ones accused. A week ago, eleven years to the date of the first call for help, all three were acquitted of the charges, except the captain. He was declared guilty of disobeying direct orders to take the wounded ship out to sea and given a nine month suspended sentence. The government was absolved of all responsibility for the consequences of having decided to set the ship adrift and let it sink. No one was required to pay compensation of any kind, not the government, not the owners of the ship, not the destinatary of the cargo, no one. One of the greatest crimes against the environment in this painfully beautiful country went unpunished. The future? Marine life has been affected, and as it recovers it can be seen that the abundance and quality is diminished. If another tanker were to spill its cargo off our shores we still have no set plans to control the damage. All this reminds me of mañana. That famous sentence in Spain, "Venga usted mañana." Why bother preparing for something today? Tomorrow there's time enough.
The next morning we woke up to the information that it had come in toward land and that it was leaking part of its cargo of oil. It was a few miles offshore in front of Muxía, a small town mostly dedicated to fishing. The first oil stains were appearing onshore and people were suddenly worried that this could lead to something worse. Many in that area saw their livelihood threatened. The captain wanted to be towed into a port to get out of rough seas and empty the hull of its cargo before much more was lost. The Spanish authorities, caught off guard without any contingency plans for such an event, denied Captain Apostolos Mangouras the request. They did send two tow boats, but they towed the tanker out to sea, towards the northwest. The captain refused to turn on his engines to continue going out to sea, saying that would put the tanker in danger of sinking. A hole had been pounded open in its side by fierce waves,
The captain was forced to turn on the engines. The ship continued to be sent northwest into open waters until the engines died and the hole in the side was carved into a wide open view of the hull. Tow boats pulled it further out while the rest of the crew was evacuated and only the captain remained on board. All the while its cargo was being emptied into the sea and, fanning out over hundreds of miles, reached the Spanish, Portuguese and eventually, the French coast. On the nineteenth of November, as it was towed towards the southwest, it neared Portuguese waters, and the Portuguese navy told them they had no authorization to enter those waters. But it never reached them because that day the captain was taken off the tanker and it sank that afternoon.
Meanwhile, on land, people were starting to mobilize. The oil spill was threatening to enter the rías, or bays, where there are mussel farms that feed most of the economy of the coast. The bateas feed many families, directly and indirectly, and the bateeiros or mussel farmers, resorted to taking the oil out of the sea directly into their boats, as a desperate measure to save their livelihood. The only thing the government provided them with was bins to dump the oil on land. The bateeiros risked their health and their boats to prevent an ecological disaster.
Fishing and shellfish gathering stopped. The only boats that could go out to sea were the ones that went to recover as much oil as possible before it affected marine life irreparably. During that time the government paid the fishermen a small pension in compensation for the loss of their incomes. But that pension didn't take into account that it was one of the busiest and most lucrative working moments for them, especially the shellfish gatherers, because of the Christmas season. These people make most of their yearly income during this season, but that year that income disappeared.
The beautiful, rugged coastline of Galicia was turning black and thousands of volunteers showed up from all over Spain and parts of Europe to help clean it up. Lines of white overalled people crawled over rocks and down cliffs to return the coast to its natural beauty. The Galicians discovered they were not alone.
People became angry with the government. Despite the black-stained beaches filled with people cleaning up the spill with bare hands and bateeiros doing the same out at the mouths of the rías, the deputy prime minister at that time, Mariano Rajoy (now prime minister, to our disgrace) maintained there was no black tide, only scattered stains. The defense minister, Federico Trillo, said the beaches of Galicia were wonderful. They denied what the residents here were seeing with their own eyes. No wonder a fisherman exploded at a visiting representative of the government in Ribeira, screaming at him that the authorities were doing nothing, waving his oil stained hands in the representative's face. Manuel Fraga, the president of Galicia at that time, wasn't even in Galicia during the first week of the disaster. He had gone hunting somewhere in Castilla and didn't even bother to show up. The prime minister, José María Aznar, famous for reacting firmly along with George Bush against Sadam Hussein, didn't even visit the area until the middle of December or acknowledge the government made a mistake in its lack of immediate and firm reaction.
The authorities had thought that by towing the tanker far out to sea and letting it sink there was the best remedy. But they failed to realize that the hull, at that depth, was deteriorating quickly and letting oil escape. So, a plan was set up. Special containers were made, a special submarine was sent to the bottom to pierce the hull. The containers were filled with the sticky black cargo and floated to the surface, where they were picked up and pulled aboard a ship. In that way they emptied most of the tanker, but some oil still remains down there, and, as the hull decays, some day we will see black stains on the beaches from Portugal to France.
Over the years the physical reminders of the oil spill have disappeared. But oil also has invisible components that wreak havoc with the environment and our health. As I mentioned, volunteers years later are dealing with illnesses they wouldn't have gotten otherwise. And the fishing industry is not what it was. There's less fish and shellfish. Certain areas never recuperated. Oil remained on the sea bed for many months and is probably still there in certain areas, underneath the sediments and affecting marine life. But only a few months after the spill the government said everything was back to normal and totally recuperated. A few days ago some fishermen were interviewed and said they had had to change some of the areas where they fish near the coast because there simply aren't any fish.
A year ago the trial began against the captain Apostolos Mangouras, the chief engineer Nikolaos Argyropoulos, and the then-head of the Spanish merchant navy José Luís Lopéz-Sors. They were accused of crimes against the environment. They, and the second mate of the tanker who did not show up for the trial, were the only ones accused. A week ago, eleven years to the date of the first call for help, all three were acquitted of the charges, except the captain. He was declared guilty of disobeying direct orders to take the wounded ship out to sea and given a nine month suspended sentence. The government was absolved of all responsibility for the consequences of having decided to set the ship adrift and let it sink. No one was required to pay compensation of any kind, not the government, not the owners of the ship, not the destinatary of the cargo, no one. One of the greatest crimes against the environment in this painfully beautiful country went unpunished. The future? Marine life has been affected, and as it recovers it can be seen that the abundance and quality is diminished. If another tanker were to spill its cargo off our shores we still have no set plans to control the damage. All this reminds me of mañana. That famous sentence in Spain, "Venga usted mañana." Why bother preparing for something today? Tomorrow there's time enough.
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