Day One

COP30 Underway

November 10th

COP30, Belem do Para, Brazil

Well, here I am. After years of planning. It is completely overwhelming. I am feeling a bit lost and disconnected, and I’m really glad Abilio and Sulman (colleagues from SICSAL - Colombia) are coming tomorrow in the early hours. Los canadienses have been spectacular. There is a team from KAIROS, the national ecumenical organization, and I met some Mining Injustice Network folk from Toronto.

I am staying in a nice apartment in the old part of Belem (about ½ hour from the COP facilities.) This morning I jumped in a cab and off I went. The driver dropped me about a kilometre or so from the site, and I joined the streams of people heading through the already baking morning sun. Just outside the giant building a group of young people were engaging in theatrical protest, many of them appearing to die dramatically, and others were covering them with white sheets. Then I saw a banner and realized — these were folks from the Mesoamerican Caravan. I had heard that they had been blocked from entering Nicaragua. I’m glad some of them made it here. I wonder where my friends from the flotilla are.

Inside, the lineup for registering was huge and snaking through the entire entryway. I’m very glad I got the tip of going a day early! I went straight through security into the great hall. Good heavens. I can’t tell you the size of this! Vast, long, wide, impressive, again, overwhelming. I entered and curious, walked along. First there were pavillions. By country, and by theme, I walked straight through, without entering the side hallways. I wondered where Canada was — and Colombia.

I walked for a long time. It seemed bigger than any airport I’ve been in. (Maybe!) Break out rooms, offices, press, all the way to the end where there was a roped off area and exhausted-looking security people. I guess that is where the bigwigs do what they do. Back down the hallway. It was like being a salmon swiming the wrong way. Actually there were streams of people going in every direction.

There are coffee shops, snack shops, and such. But you need a COP debit card, which you load with money, and then spend as you go. I got R150, about $40. That should be good for a while. I wander back to the displays. Find some young Korean women supporting fossil fuel transition in Asia. We chatted for a while.

Then I headed to the Azerbakjan booth. There were three young people there, one of them fussing with a small espresso machine. I learned (and forgot) how to say thank you in Azerbakjani. When I asked the young man if they drank a lot of coffee in his country he solemnly shook his head. “We drink tea.” The coffee was very good. I headed down the hall. Then I saw it — Colombia! I ambled over, and immediately heard my name. There he was, Jerson, vice-minister Tatiana Roa’s assistant.

”There you are,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you. When are we going to schedule the poem?” Gulp. We sit as he flips through a vast spreadsheet of activities. We choose a time and date. The poem: “Leaf on Drum River” will have its inaguaral reading (in Spanish) on Friday, November 14th, 5:30 pm Amazon-Atlantic time. I’m dizzy. We chat for a while, exchange whattsapps. He goes to look for vice-minister Roa, but she’s in a meeting. “Come back,” he says. “I will,” I say.

Now Beth, from KAIROS and I are playing text-tag. “Canada has a meeting every day at 10.” “I’ll head there now.” “It’s by the Artesinal coffee stand.” “Okay.” Somehow we miss each other, I stick my head in the door, say hi, she is out looking for me. I double back. We find each other. Then together we head out into the melting Amazon almost-high-noon sun. It is hot and half the river is in the air. We are heading to the Lutheran church, about a 20 minute walk away. On route we collect the rest of her team.

At the Lutheran church there is an important meeting: the gathering of interfaith leaders for the Talanoa Dialogue. We will meet and discuss how religious communities might be part of the challenge to the climate crisis. It is a lively group of some 150 people from many traditions and every continent. After prayer and presentations we divide into seven groups, three portuguese-speaking, three-english speaking, and one-spanish speaking. I go with the Spanish speakers.

For about an hour we: analyse the problem, consider solutions and really dig deep into theological, cosmologicial, practical problems and solutions: There are Monsters out there. They are real. We have to name them. Greed. Power. Violence. How shocking — and how sad for him — that Elon Musk was named a “trillionaire” this past week. We have to understand the systemic nature of this horror. It is the world completely off its centre. But the created world will fight back, if we continue to abuse her. We will lose. We have to change structural systems. This is a collective fight, not an individual battle. I mention the communities I had visited. They know what to do, they always have. And the y are doing it. We need to find was to protect these vulnerable ones.

We head back. After a fun sung grace, we head outside to the banana tree filled courtyard for lunck. A spectacular lunch. A thousand kinds of food. An enormous green salad. Beans. Lentils. I heap my plate. With me in the line is Ben, a Franciscan from Kenya who currently lives in New York. We become instant friends and sit together. Then an Anglican comes over — amazingly, he is the head of the organization Franciscans International, the Franciscan organization to the UN. An Anglican head of FI for the first time. Then other Anglicans join us. Martha Jarvis joins us. She is the . Then another young man. The Rev. Brokenleg. WHAT! The Dr. Rev. Martin Brokenleg was my thesis supervisor for my Masters’ Degree. He was also my preaching instructor. Lakota from South Dakota. Anglican. Fabulous man, priest and teacher. I can’t believe I’m sitting with his nephew melting in Belem!

Then the Franciscans kidnap me. They’re off to a meeting on challenging the extractive industry. Fifty folks, again from every continent. We hear testimony from: the Philippines, India, up and down Abya Yala: Ecuador, Peru, Mexico, around Africa, particularly Zimbabwe and Congo. These are stories I read all the time. Its something else to bear witness to the testimony directly from the affected people.

Here is a flash look at their history, and what they are organizing for COP30:

— at every World Social Forum, people and organizations from areas affected by extraction (metal mining, petroleum) came together. They realized that while global mining companies are organized, they were active locally, churches, legal organizations, so these activists formed: The Thematic Social Forum on Mining. They met in South Africa, then Co-vid. In 2023 they met in Indonesia. Their third meeting is — Here! As part of the Peoples’ Summit, happening paralel to COP30. This a pre-meeting for that.

I will try and attend that meeting. On Saturday.

The plan is to come away on Saturday with a declaration proclaming two things.

1. An affirmation of affected communities around the world and their right to say no.

2. Challenge the false narrative of a ‘clean energy transition’ which is a mask on the continued extractive practices drived by greed and devasting communities.

Whew. Busy days ahead. We wrap up and I head of with this new gang. I (as usual) have no idea where we are going. But I enjoy the chance to get to know Jen a bit more. We end up walking to the waterfront, and along the edge of the water, past markets and displays — lots of COP30 swag for sale. (I may or may not have bought five stuffed capybaras!)

I notice we have made our way to old Belem. I was going to try and figure out how to get back to the Blue Zone, but I’m zonked. And baking, or melting. I am not that far from the Sisters’ apartment. I peel off from the group and wander through old Belem, ancient buildings, colourful, crumbling boats. Lots of police and military.

The rain starts about 3 blocks from home, but I don’t care. It is cooling and refreshing.

Tomorrow is another day. Sulman and Abilio will be here.