The environmental catastrophe resulting from BP’s blown-out deepwater oil well in the Gulf of Mexico is the worst seen in the US, but Ecuador’s ongoing battle with pervasive, persistent toxic contamination relating to Texaco’s operations in the remote Amazon is the worst oil-related environmental disaster the world has ever seen. In a once-pristine corner of the Ecuadoran Amazon rainforest, Texaco dumped billions of gallons of petroleum waste byproduct, contaminating groundwater and ruining the local environment irreparably.

According to a brief filed by plaintiffs:

It deliberately dumped many billions of gallons of waste byproduct from oil drilling directly into the rivers and streams of the rainforest covering an area the size of Rhode Island. It gouged more than 900 unlined waste pits out of the jungle floor — pits which to this day leach toxic waste into soils and groundwater. It burned hundreds of millions of cubic feet of gas and waste oil into the atmosphere, poisoning the air and creating ‘black rain’ which inundated the area during tropical thunderstorms.

In Ecuador, lax oversight allowed Texaco to operate with near total impunity, misleading public officials and using the rainforest as its private dumping ground. The environmental effects have, however, such pervasive and lasting consequences that the very idea of a comprehensive clean-up is virtually out of the question.

The Ecuador spill was actually thousands, if not tens of thousands of spills, deliberately released into the natural environment, with total impunity, over several decades. But the crisis there holds many lessons for the prevention and clean-up effort in the Gulf of Mexico. Delicate marshland ecosystems and networks of narrow waterways can be particularly vulnerable to seepage, and it is urgently necessary to stop the slick from penetrating those ecosystems.

Bob Herbert’s Op-Ed in the New York times puts the problem in sharp, clear terms:

President Obama has suspended Shell’s Arctic drilling permits and has temporarily halted the so-called Arctic oil rush. What we’ve learned from the BP debacle in the gulf, and from the rainforest, and so many other places, is just how reckless and inept the oil companies can be when it comes to safeguarding life, limb and the environment.

They’re dangerous. They need the most stringent kind of oversight, and swift and severe sanctions for serious wrongdoing. At the same time, we need to be searching with a much, much greater sense of urgency for viable energy alternatives. Treating the Amazon and the gulf and the Arctic as if they were nothing more than toxic waste sites is an affront to the planet and all life-forms that inhabit it.

The fact is we do not know how to get oil to market without putting the natural environment in grave danger: the search for oil is inherently destructive; the technology to guarantee a drilling site is safe and sealed and secure against seepage simply does not exist; by their very nature, oil companies routinely explore in new terrain in which the most advanced techniques have never been tested; as we push the envelope, we put the environment at risk.

Oil companies find this risk more than worth their while, as they rarely pay the costs, their operations are heavily subsidized, and they can reap profits running into the billions of dollars. People, wildlife, natural systems, and the human livable environment, are routinely put in harm’s way, in service of those profits.

The Texaco disaster in Ecuador was part of a planned strategy of toxic-waste dumping, which disregarded any risk to the local environment and relied on the assumption that the business to be done there was simply of more value than the human lives and the natural systems being systematically destroyed by Texaco’s activity. What happened in Ecuador might ultimately include 100 times more contamination than the BP spill, but world attention has not focused enough attention there to drive a substantial clean-up effort or to learn the important lessons.

Tropical Storm Agatha has become one of the top ten deadliest tropical storm systems on record, behind 6 full-force hurricanes, dropping nearly two feet of rain on central America in two days, flooding multiple nations’ low-lying areas and creating havoc across the region. At least 142 people have been killed, mostly in flooding and landslides, and coffee growers and farmers are preparing for potential long-term impact on agriculture across the region.

In El Salvador, the extreme weather has left at least 6 people dead, with flooding spreading across farm land and low-lying areas. El Salvador’s Pres. Mauricio Funes has declared a state of emergency, amid worries the heavy rains and flooding will lead to landslides, mass evacuations, displacements, death and disease. Funes warned that “We have finally decided to declare a red alert across the entire country”, but was careful to note that “we have not declared this alert because of a high number of deaths.”

Honduras has also declared a state of emergency, after 14 were killed. In Guatemala, intense rains and winds coincided with lava flow and hot ash from the Pacaya Volcano, causing evacuations made more complex by the dangers posed by lava and ash. The volcano’s surge in activity had closed the Pacaya airport, and with rains complicating the ash-removal effort, the flow of people and supplies into or out of the city will be impeded.

As of yesterday, there were over 17,000 people displaced and living in temporary housing in Guatemala, and authorities seek to coordinate the response, to ensure flooding does not lead to transport-related fatalities or the spread of disease. According to a Global Voices report, quoting Geraldine Mac:

A state of emergency has been declared in Guatemala as the storms heavy rain thrashes through Central America. ‘Agatha’s’ heavy rain has caused mud-slides which are destroying houses and businesses alike, cutting off roads and causing fear and panic throughout the region and there is a risk of a volcanic eruption. Just over 120 miles from Guatemala City in the town of Alomolonga, a mudslide buried a house with a family of 2 adults and 2 children there was no survivors. Four other adults and children have also been killed in separate incidents due to the amount of heavy rain causing more than just a few mud-slides and 11 people are missing. These mudslides have been causing traffic problems and power has been cut off from those places affected.

La Tribuna, of Honduras, reports that at least 142 people are confirmed dead in connection with Tropical Storm Agatha. Initial reports suggest Guatemala is the worst affected nation, with 118 confirmed deaths and reports of possibly many more missing or killed. According to La Tribuna:

La Coordinadora Nacional para la Reducción de Desastres de Guatemala dijo que su registro contabilizó 118 muertos y 53 desaparecidos.

El alcalde de San Antonio Palopó, Andrés Cúmez, reportó 15 fallecidos en su comunidad que no están incluidos en el conteo oficial, y el gobernador de Chimaltenango, Erick de León, indicó que en su jurisdicción hay 11 muertos más de lo que reportan las cifras de la Coordinadora.

Guatemala’s National Disaster-Reduction Coordinator reports 118 dead, but local officials have reported many more disappeared and at least 15 additional people killed in San Antonio Palopó and 11 additional people killed in Chimaltenango, not included in the official tallies. Part of the emergency response will be a more thorough accounting of who has been affected, injured, disappeared or killed by the storm.

According to El Comercio, Perú, the rains have left at least 111,000 people displaced, and more to be evacuated, in Guatemala, with thousands of homes destroyed or damaged and fears of more to come as flooding continues. The Mexican government has expressed solidarity and sympathy for the affected nations, including those communities most impacted in Honduras, namely Tegucigalpa, Choluteca and Comayagua.

• Some reporting contributed by J.E. Robertson

La luna se aleja, no veo el camino; estoy lista, medito, pero el futuro no me pertenece. Por lo tanto, no duermo. Busco en las tinieblas, hacia las cuatro, mi nombre; ya no existe. Esta experiencia desconcertante me gusta, porque ayuda a definir los límites; sé hasta dónde tengo que limitarme en sociedad. Imagino que el yo, en general, es un fenómeno menos comprobado que lo que pensamos.

Hace años, mi madre me contó una historia: un hombre joven, viudo, fue a la montaña, a buscar a Dios; su desesperación se había convertido en su lema, su mantra, su melancólica densidad. La luna se alejaba. Solía postrarse y mirar hacia arriba, esperando poder decir el nombre de su mujer desvanecida: jamás pudo. Una vez, años más tarde, le contaría a su nuevo amor que en esos estrechos descubrió que el nombre del amado no existe; sólo existe su ser, su indicio, su llamado.

Ética, me decía mi madre. La ética es lo que nos une, y ese hombre había descubierto que todas las acciones son éticas. El insomnio es un terreno ético: ¿qué creas, de qué huyes, para quién te castigas, por qué? Me siento a veces más utilitaria que romántica, porque cuando amo, pienso que debería servir para algo. Él, cuando se fue, citó mi seriedad, diciendo que no podía encontrar la razón de su amor, que no me servía como amante.

Y ahora soy ese viudo; busco en la noche la posibilidad de recordarlo llamándolo, y siento que el llamado es siempre mudo, extrasensorial. Sólo existe el llamado que él dejó dentro de mí: el universo tiene su olor, su forma. La pérdida no es pérdida, sino inicio. Entre amigos, hemos dicho esto muchas veces; entra en los escritos de varios amigos: buscamos el comienzo, porque tememos el final. Como es debido.

Pienso que en una noche de lluvia, todo lo demás deja de existir; por eso nos sentimos a la vez abrazados y limitados. La lluvia fría es también un dios cálido, un germen de vida, la promesa de un futuro. Al día siguiente tendremos qué beber y seguirán nuestras meditaciones; hay que adaptarnos. Todo sigue.

Mi nombre no existe; su nombre no existe. Somos dos seres, llenos del canto ético, llamando sin darnos cuenta a futuros repletos de conexión. Las conexiones no inmediatas se definen por parecerse rotas, y no serlo. Las densidades múltiples sensoriales, rituales, se difunden. Es su naturaleza.

Todo se nos escapa; no se sabe qué vendrá. Por eso, tiene sentido no dormir. Parece. Quiero iluminar la noche con mis iluminaciones. Repetirme. Abrir la caja del mañana y retocar sus elementos básicos, volver al pasado, reinventarme. Eso hago hacia las cuatro, sin luna y llorando. Estoy libre. ¿A quién se lo digo? A mis ángeles. A mis indefinidos caudales. Mi yo sentimental.

O, simplemente vivo. Comienzo de nuevo cada día. No es estrategia, es algo que reconozco; así es. El estoicismo es una defensa, frágil, pretensiosa. Es otra búsqueda con sabor de seguridad y empeño. Eso gusta. Sabia, indefensa, veo que soy lo que veo, que veo lo que soy, que para conocerte, te me abro, sin garantías; todo radica en ese riesgo, y por tantas veces haber calculado que el riesgo es demasiado, somos quiénes somos.

• Más escritos de Carmen Visna en Elindulnék