Because the bones of my skinny
behind were crunching on the heart-pine pews of Pilgrims Home Primitive Baptist
Church, I couldn’t really appreciate the lyrics of “Peace in the Valley.” What my 8-year-old mind wanted was to escape
that Baker County sweatbox, before I was parched like the peanuts stacked on a
pole in my grandmother’s field. It was
hot, almost as hot as the fire and brimstone being hurled by Brother Cattret from
the pulpit.
My
DNA is country-fried. I love living on a
farm. But praise the Lord for
modernization. Air conditioning is a
blessing. However—when the first cool
snap arrives—I like to raise a window and let in some of God’s air conditioning.
Such a simple thing is easy to take for
granted.
But
on Oct. 7, I met a throng of folks who aren’t taking fresh air for
granted. Sardined into the county’s
meeting hall, the Oglethorpe County residents—despite air conditioning—had
steam billowing from their ears. Raised windows aren’t an option for them. These
folks can’t walk outside without gagging. Their “peace in the valley” has been
robbed.
Foul-smelling industrial
sludge and who-knows-what-else had been dumped near their homes. Nausea and headaches were common
complaints. Their quality of life had
been destroyed by out-of-county companies wanting to get rid of noxious
materials, which those businesses wanted away from their noses, their
groundwater and their streams.
Why would this
even be allowed?
Follow the
money, and you’ll see the reason and the
complexity of the issue. Loosely written
Georgia soil-amendment laws have large-enough loopholes for 18-wheelers to
drive through. And they do, pulling
tankers filled with nasty stuff. Farmers
are told the vile material will improve their soil, plus—sometimes—there’s a
check attached to each load.
The typical
farmer needs help. I get that. I am married to a farmer’s daughter. But as they say: “There’s no right way to do a wrong thing.” There’s nothing right about solving one
problem by creating another. We aren’t
talking about chicken litter.
Stephens County
went through an awful spate of stench and sued the culprit. The case was settled. The dumping stopped. Wilkes County has been dumped on, too. Elbert County citizens have been holding
their noses while battling to stop the stinky invasion of “food production
waste.”
But it doesn’t stop there. When the Georgia
Environmental Protection Division (EPD) made a surprise visit to an Elbert farm,
it discovered “sludge in the earthen pit was adulterated.” Some of that “adulteration” was plastic
tampon applicators, condoms, plastic bottle caps, candy wrappers and other
assorted items. I’m for farmers, but how
can you be for this? The Georgia
Department of Agriculture is reviewing and tweaking its rules to hopefully close
the loopholes.
The Oglethorpe
commissioners are mostly farmers, but they didn’t hesitate to fight back when a
trio of waste-hauling companies sued the county and them individually. The five officials stood by their decision to
enforce a zoning ordinance which prohibits this type of dumping. Their hot-under-the-collar constituents got
some relief, watching the board vote, 5-0, to defend their quality of life.
Georgia is a Right
to Farm state. Agriculture is our
biggest industry, and I’m proud of that.
And if you choose to move adjacent to or near an existing hog, cattle or
poultry operation, you shouldn’t be surprised about the smells. But if you live in the country and one day a
big-rig tanker shows up next door to unload putrid, potentially polluting and
mystery gunk—in the name of fertilizer—you should have a right to protest.
Who knows what
the court will decide?
But on Oct. 7, I
witnessed the consensus of the court of public opinion. If you want “peace in the valley,” you must
be willing to fight to protect that peace and
quality of life.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
