Uranium Mining in Niger: Tuareg Activist Takes on French Nuclear Company

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It would also be a milestone for Alhacen, because he is trying hard to gather evidence. In 2003, he asked Bruno Chareyron, a nuclear physicist from Valence in the Rhône Valley, to come to Arlit. Chareyron had once worked as an engineer in a nuclear power plant. For more than 25 years, he had been working in the laboratory at Criirad, an independent radiation protection organization. He measured radiation levels near the plant, on the scrap metal market in Arlit and in the streets. He also took water samples.

And then there was Sherpa, a lawyers' organization from Paris that fights for the rights of workers. When a Sherpa attorney interviewed more than 80 mine workers, she heard the same stories again and again: There was allegedly no safety equipment until the mid-1980s, not even dust masks.

One family claimed that doctors had sent a coughing mine worker home from the Areva hospital in Arlit after diagnosing him with diabetes. When the man went to see a doctor in a larger city, Agadez, he was diagnosed with lung cancer in an advanced stage.

The Sherpa attorney confronted the chief physician at the hospital. He reportedly defended himself by saying that doctors never tell patients that they have lung cancer. Another hospital employee allegedly admitted that when cancer diagnoses were given, if at all, it was only to patients who didn't work in the mine. "When workers exhibit these symptoms, we talk about malaria or AIDS," he allegedly said. Areva says that the company doctors are "independent" and calls the charges "practically slanderous." The company also insists that the doctors have "all equipment required to carry out their work."

Unusual Radiation Levels

The Greenpeace activists showed up last November and stayed for nine days. They found elevated levels of radiation everywhere. A sand sample taken near the mine in Akokan contained 100 times more radioactive material than normal sand. In the streets of Akokan, the Greenpeace team apparently even measured radiation levels that were 500 times normal levels. In the past, the radioactive waste from the mine was used as construction material for roads and buildings. Of five water samples the Greenpeace team took, four exceeded guidelines for uranium set by the World Health Organization (WHO). According to Areva, however, the amount of radiation to which residents are exposed each year is about that of a chest X-ray.

For years, Alhacen has been combing the scrap market in Arlit for radiation sources. People used to make tools out of the scrap metal, sometimes even pots which they ate out of every day. The company has since cleaned up and collected much of the radioactive scrap material.

Areva insists that it has satisfied the highest international standards for maximum radiation doses since 2002. Joseph Brehan, a Paris attorney, says: "The improvements aren't that significant." He recently traveled to Arlit to meet with his client, Almoustapha Alhacen. Last year, Areva signed an agreement that authorizes Sherpa to examine the working conditions in the mines. In return, Sherpa must coordinate its activities with Areva. Together they intend to introduce a comprehensive health monitoring system.

Physicist Bruno Chareyron and Alhacen believe that Sherpa has made a deal with the devil.

Depending on Areva

This is the problem with a powerful corporation. Criirad, Aghirin Man and Sherpa are small organizations that survive on donations. Even Alhacen is a critic that Areva can still tolerate, because he too has arguably made a deal with the devil. He still works for Areva. The company has furloughed him, but he still lives rent-free in a house owned by Areva and known as RA4, No. 6. The house has four rooms, and there are four goats in a shed in the inner courtyard. By Arlit standards, Alhacen is a prosperous man. "If I lose the job, I have to get out of the house -- right away."

There is no other place to work in Arlit than in the plant. Arlit is Areva. And even a critic like Alhacen depends on Areva.

In northern Niger, one third of children are malnourished, and thousands die of diarrhea and pneumonia. It wouldn't take very much money to prevent a great deal of suffering in Niger. In a country like this, is it right to demand the same strict radiation protection measures as in Europe?

Areva intends to spend €6 million ($8.1 million) a year on development projects over the next five years. A few years ago, Areva defended itself with the argument that it didn't view itself primarily as a charity. Niger is also helped, Areva officials said, if people get work and the government earns revenues from uranium production.

The Cost of Europe's Energy

Alhacen loses his temper when he hears this. "Who said anything about charity?" he asks. "It's our uranium! Areva's charity is pollution, some of which will always remain with us. Areva is committing a crime here. They take the water, and trees and plants disappear as a result. There is no life. And what for? For your energy."

The uranium also aggravates the conflict between the Tuareg rebels in the north and the government in the south. The last uprising ended only a few months ago. In the 1990s, when a civil war was raging between the north and the south, Mohammed Anacko was one of the leaders of the rebellion. He now heads a reconciliation commission. He became a rebel in the past because the north was not receiving any of the uranium revenues.

Today he is worried that Niger could break apart. Each month, Anacko travels to visit the rebels in the Aïr Mountains, east of the uranium mines. He talks to the fighters, because he is concerned about al-Qaida's growing influence. Many of the former rebels have already switched to drug smuggling and human trafficking. And what if someone tried to smuggle uranium?

Chaos is always a dangerous thing in a country with uranium reserves. President Mamadou Tandja, who was ousted in a military coup in mid-February, had threatened to sell his yellowcake to Iran. The man is now gone, but his idea remains, triggering fears in the West.

'They Can't Go Anywhere Else'

The Tuareg, on the other hand, fear a total sellout of their country. The year 2007 marked a high point in the global nuclear renaissance, and the market price of yellowcake shot up. President Tandja awarded more than 100 exploration licenses for uranium regions. The licensed areas cover the land of the Tuareg almost completely.

"The Tuareg live from their animals," says Alhacen. "They can't go anywhere else. They live from this land, and it belongs to them." Alhacen intends to continue fighting, so that at least the Tuareg can have a chance.

Last year he paid a visit to the opponents of a potential radioactive waste disposal facility near Gorleben in northeast Germany. "It was wonderful, because it's my lifestyle," says Alhacen. "There was a lot of open land and a lot of milk."

Alhacen gave a speech in the nearby town of Dannenberg. "You can't just fight against nuclear power plants and waste repositories," he said. "If you want to kill the tree, kill the roots."

He was referring to the uranium mines.

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• Part 1: Tuareg Activist Takes on French Nuclear Company
• Part 2: Life in the Vicinity of the Uranium Mines
• Part 3: The Search for Evidence