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129 seven “Businessmen Disguised as Environmentalists” Neoliberal Conservation in Garifuna Territory In the 1990s, the trend was to convert the management of our territories in protected areas to private enterprises. The first silent expulsion of Garifuna communities occurred in Cuero y Salado, and then the strategy was replicated in the Cayos Cochinos. Meanwhile, businessmen disguised as environmentalists were taking over strategic locations from Punta Sal to Capiro y Calentura [which span the north coast in historical Garifuna territory], places within plans for this century’s tourism projects.” [OFRANEH 2011a, translation by author, emphasis added] In OFRANEH’s communiqués from the summer and fall of 2011, activists called attention to the global spread of protected areas, hybrid environmental governance (management by NGOs), links between protected area growth and the tourism economy, and the expulsion/displacement of local populations in the wake of these movements. As OFRANEH indicates, Garifuna communities are situated at the heart of the country’s finest natural areas, making them particularly vulnerable to the social impacts of the protected-area management policies and protected-area tourism. Sitting in the offices of OFRANEH on a June afternoon in 2011, don Buelto appears, a 76-year-old Garifuna man from Chachahuate-Nueva Armenia. It had been five years since I had last seen him, and while his vision and hearing were worsening, he looked just as he did back in 2006 and was equally, or more, troubled. I first met don Buelto, along with several of his fisher colleagues, in Chachahuate, during an impassioned focus group to discuss the effects of the 2004–9 Cayos Cochinos Marine Protected Area management plan on Garifuna livelihood strategies. Operating 130 • Land Grab as Operation Wallacea’s lead social scientists, my colleague Natalie Bown and I were responsible for overseeing 17 students working on their senior honors and master’s theses on the effects of the CCMPA’s management plan on the Garifuna culture, as well as the potential for ecotourism to replace fishing as a livelihood strategy. Natalie and I also interacted with the approximately 100–200 research volunteers who traveled through the Cayos Cochinos on their summer “expeditions.” Opwall is the private conservation and scientific research organization mentioned in the book’s introductory vignette. Opwall began its expeditions to Honduras in 2004, under a 10-year research clearance contract with the Honduran Coral Reef Fund, the nonprofit organization that currently oversees all activity within the CCMPA. One afternoon in July 2005 I helped arrange for a large group of Opwall expedition students to travel from Cayo Menor to Chachahuate. While the student tourists enjoyed their visit—having their hair plaited, purchasing shell necklaces, and lounging on the beach drinking refreshments—the social science students and I visited with one of the families who had grown increasingly dependent on the tourism industry after the introduction of the first management plan. Alonso and Rosa were busy at work, spread out on a small wooden plank outside their small house. They did not make an effort to go to the tourist students—this is a job typically assumed by island children. Rosa sat smoothing over shells while Alonso worked to fashion earrings out of black coral. As they labored, Alonso shared a familiar narrative —he said that “the Foundation” wanted to remove the Garifuna from Chachahuate, sending them back to Nueva Armenia. He spoke of all the restrictions being put on fishers, and how they were no longer able to capture lobster during specific seasons, even if their families were hungry. While Alonso identified first as a fisher, he had turned to jewelry production to help supplement the household income. He sold necklaces, bracelets, and earrings for $5 each. Soon some of the Opwall students found us; they were interested in seeing the jewelry that Alonso and Rosa had available for purchase, especially items unlike the typical shell necklaces that the kids were pushing along the beachfront. Alonso presented turtle shell, black coral, and conch shell jewelry (all illegal to obtain from the sea), which he sells for higher prices (around $10) due to their rarity. Alonso was careful to point out that he purchased these products in La Ceiba from a man who acquired them from Colombia. Exhibiting conch shells he sells to tourists as souvenirs, Alonso reminded us that these were dead when they washed up on shore. Rosa corrected him, saying “No, they don’t wash up. You need to dive for [3.16.147.124] Project MUSE (2024-04-26...

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