The fight between Glamis Gold, now Goldcorp, over a new mine, the Imperial Mine in California tribal lands, landed in a Washington DC hearing many months ago.  I have been unable to track down any information about the progress of the hearing and/or its conclusions.  But now I have come across a report on a march by tribal members and their supporters to further their claim that the area of the mine is sacred and no mine should be developed. 

The final paragraph of the report reads:

Dominion readers might have heard of the Quechan resistance to Canadian mining corporation Glamis Gold / Goldcorp’s plans for the Imperial gold mine in the vicinity of this trail of sacred sites in the desert region. When California responded by requiring special mitigation measures for open pit mines near sacred sites, Glamis sued the U.S. government under NAFTA, a case that has yet to be resolved. Now, the Quechan Tribal Council is building a casino in part of Avikwalal…

The point that intrigues me is the innocence of the statement “Now, the Quechan Tribal Council is building a casino in part of Avikwalal….” 

I cannot work out if the writer is proud or distressed by the new casino.  Or proud or distressed that a casino trumps a mine.

I cannot understand how a casino can be built on land so sacred that a mine cannot be developed. 

After seven hours on an Allegiant Air plane we finally arrived in Cedar Rapids. The 2.5-hour flight became seven as the plane meandered back and forth between the gate and the runway in Las Vegas trying to decide if a defective break light was serious or not; they decided the “fix” was filling in the appropriate paperwork. Then a mad storm over Cedar Rapids diverted us to Minnesota for more gas and time for the lightening to subside. Thus it was a late, late family reunion that turned to serious economic discussions as the kids peeled away to bed and the whiskey took effect.

The connection to mining is that I tried to induce the brother of my son-in-law to go into mining. The Cedar Rapids floods destroyed his rented apartment. He has nowhere to go but my daughter’s house. He bewailed the fact that his ex-wife is about to give birth to their second child, has refused him access to both, and has a court order demanding 65 percent of his income. He bewailed the fact that he can earn no more than $10 an hour working to clean up the flood-induced mess.

In a flood of drink-induced empathy, I recommended that he get a job in the mining industry. I gave him contacts. I painted a rosey picture of $20 and $30 an hour laborers in the Canadian oil sands and the coal mines of Wyoming.

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