Pilcomayo, the River That Once Gave Life Now Lies in Agony | Pilcomayo, el río que daba vida y que ahora agoniza

By Leonel Suárez, El País:

Fish depletion and mining pollution are recurring issues. The environmental tragedy continues, while the voices of Indigenous peoples remain unheard by authorities

Pilcomayo River, a lifeline for Tarija’s Chaco region

The Pilcomayo River—a vital thread flowing through southern Bolivia—sustains hundreds of Indigenous communities, including the Weenhayek, Tapiete, and Guaraní peoples in the department of Tarija. Today, it is in the news again for the worst reasons: unrelenting exploitation and mining contamination. The latter has been a looming threat for over a decade and becomes especially evident during the dry season.

The story is all too familiar and yet keeps repeating. Each year, as water levels drop and toxic sediments are dragged from mining sites in Potosí, the Pilcomayo turns into a trap for its biodiversity and for the communities that depend on it. The environmental crisis replays as if time stood still, and the voices of Indigenous peoples are barely a whisper to those in power.

A river that sickens

Mining at the Pilcomayo’s headwaters in Potosí is the main source of pollution. Despite warnings from communities and environmental organizations, mining waste continues to flow downstream, contaminating the waters used for farming, fishing, and human consumption.

Francisco Pérez Nazario, the Great Captain of the Weenhayek people, told Radio ACLO Chaco that the situation is unsustainable. “We consume the river’s water and fish,” he says, suggesting both are contaminated—but his people have no other means of survival.

Contamination? The government has repeatedly claimed that the Pilcomayo is not polluted, despite the collapse of mining containment dams.

“They’ve left us alone,” Pérez laments. His testimony reflects the deep sense of abandonment felt by Indigenous communities in Bolivia’s Chaco. They’ve been denied not only technical and medical assistance, but also the right to make decisions over their own land.

He recalls traveling to La Paz, Cochabamba, and Oruro in search of solutions—only to receive empty promises. He points out that many commitments remain unfulfilled, even accusing NGOs of switching sides and now working with the government and mining companies.

Even worse, Pérez claims there are no official studies on the health impacts.

Fishing to survive

From the Guaraní nation, Esteban Romero—the mburuvicha or leader and head of the Captains Council of Tarija—offers an equally urgent perspective: “We can’t grow or produce anything on the riverbanks because of the salt crust. Fishing is our life,” he says. The sábalo, the river’s emblematic fish, is increasingly endangered due to habitat loss and toxic buildup.

Romero also blames mining companies directly.

Although many claim to have waste control systems, during the rainy season the toxic materials overflow and are carried downstream. As a result, the damage reaches communities that have never even seen a mine nearby.

Romero says that, with support from a French organization, they’ve begun an independent technical study from the Bañado La Estrella, near the border with Argentina and Paraguay, all the way to the river’s origin in Potosí. The initiative has no state support.

Still, the government continues to insist there is no contamination in the Pilcomayo, despite the frequent collapse of tailings dams upstream.

Unpunished exploitation

Mining pollution is compounded by another scourge: the overfishing of Pilcomayo’s aquatic life. According to Evelio Téllez, head of Codefauna in the Tarija Governor’s Office, illegal fishing traps—such as nets, sticks, and planks—have been widely detected for months along the Angosto section at kilometer 9.

Following a legal process initiated by the regional government, the Agro-environmental Court of Villa Montes issued a resolution banning these traps and ordering the immediate removal of all structures that interfere with natural fish reproduction cycles.

Téllez added that some fishing concessions were granted more than 30 years ago, but still engage in destructive and banned fishing practices that harm the Pilcomayo’s biodiversity and the livelihood of Indigenous families who rely on the river.

No fish reach downstream

Peasant communities in the Guaraní zone of Itika Guasu, in the municipality of Entre Ríos, told El País that the use of prohibited fishing gear affects them year after year. In villages like Tentapiao or Casa de Piedra, the fish that make it through are barely the size of a hand. Meanwhile, social media posts show that larger fish are being trapped upriver in Villa Montes.

The Pilcomayo cannot wait another decade

The Pilcomayo River is no longer what it once was. Its flow has changed, its flora and fauna are dwindling, and its role as a life source is in danger. Without immediate intervention, Indigenous leaders warn, we risk not only an ecosystem, but also a culture, an economy, and a way of life in harmony with nature.

Ludmila Pizarro, an activist with the Environmental Platform of Villa Montes, warns that deforestation is another serious factor. She emphasized that this is causing more sediment to wash into the river, leading to flooding in Indigenous communities. She decried the government’s inaction and warned that this river cannot survive another decade of neglect.

Leave a comment