Finding Refuge               article by Klamath Irrigation District Executive Director Gene Souza posted to KBC News 11/6/24     "I returned home in 2019 after being gone for nearly 30 years...In 2021, the “Everglades of the West” were dryer than the sands of Ninewah or Arghandab, areas in which I served during my military career...   To what purpose was water being denied from the ecosystem, the farmers, the wildlife, and the refuges? Why is a federal government 3000 miles away destroying our homeland and inflicting losses on its people?  I will be asked to help and hinder the fabric of the American Dream  and to undermine the foundation of national security - food security..."
Klamath Basin Wildlife Refuge photo by Mary Hyde	Gene Souza retired as          Lieutenant Colonel	Lower Klamath Wildlife Refuge dewatered by Federal Government, photo by Lee Cheyne

Gene Souza, front, and other military intelligence officers attending an intergovernmental coordination briefing in Ninewah, Iraq, 2005	This is my “Togetherweserved.com” collage…military members would be able to translate it.	General Nakasone awarded Gene Souza the Meritorious Service Medal for spearheading efforts across the Department of Defense as part of an inter-organizational effort on 2018.
On patrol in Ninewah, 2005	Undisclosed location in southern Afghanistan2011	Back from Arghandab, Khandahar, Afghanistan 2013

In 1890, many in the Azores faced poverty and felt neglected by the distant Portuguese government. At age 24, Manuel Miranda Souza, like many young men, stood on the bow of a ship emigrating to the United States in search of a better life.  In "And Yet They Come," Jerry Willams describes why the Azoreans reluctantly fled from the difficult life in their homeland. I can imagine Manuel on that ship with sadness at the fading view of family, friends, and all he had ever known. Manuel boarded the ship with hope, enduring life-threatening conditions for 150 days from the Azores to Hawaii, seeking a better life.

Manuel’s 1890 journey brought him to the intersection of the Applegate and the Yreka trails near Agawesh on Lower Klamath Lake in Northern California, near an area previously settled by the Modoc peoples, the Fairchilds, and the Van Brimmers.  With a true pioneering soul, he was welcomed.  

Survival through prudent agricultural practices was a necessity instilled in Azoreans from early childhood. They had to learn to maximize production from every inch of land to survive in their homeland. It was only natural that Portuguese immigrants applied that same knowledge and determination. It hurts a Portuguese to waste any inch of land. They want every inch to be productive, night and day, every minute of the growing season.  I understand and appreciate this attribute.

In 1903, a native farmer, Henry Robert Chipps, approved Manuel’s courting of his oldest daughter, Winnie Chipps, my Great-Grandmother, a Modoc woman. Manuel’s homestead was near the historic Modoc Villages in the Agawesh and Hot Creek area.

A journey back in time would unveil an era of abundance and vibrant memories. In the late 1970s, I stood in view of the former Lower Klamath Lake from a plateau above Souza Lake and understood why my great-grandfather and the Modoc people chose this place. I can still envision the vast wetlands. I can recall the thunder of the wild horses as they moved across the landscape.  The beauty was shared between bald eagles, mule deer, antelope, and tens of thousands of flocks of migrating waterfowl. This was a land of refuge that now exists only in memories.

During a routine late-day August thunderstorm before I left for boot camp, I drove through the Lower Klamath Lake National Refuge. I thought about leaving my home, wondering if I would return. I wondered if I would miss this land. I had peace in leaving and was excited for a new journey. I could always come home to this land to visit any time, or so I thought.

I returned home in 2019 after being gone for nearly 30 years of military service. The ecosystem change took me aback. Agawesh was no longer. The land I could recall from memory was nothing but a memory. The marshlands and endless habitat had been transformed from its former beauty. The eagles, deer, and antelope were all fewer. The sky, formerly filled with hundreds of millions of diverse bird species, changed. Stateline Road was the gateway to the refuges on field trips during school; this land looked and felt completely different, foreign to me.  In 2021, the “Everglades of the West” were dryer than the sands of Ninewah or Arghandab, areas in which I served during my military career. The peace that I felt in leaving home was no more; my new building blocks of emotion were now bitterness, sadness, and just outright depression.

Why? Why the destruction? Why the radical landscape change? Why are so many standing aside with no action?

Who? Who cares? Who is helping? Who is responsible for this modern state of our lands?

How? How does this happen? How do politicians destroy? How is it all just memories?

To what purpose was water being denied from the ecosystem, the farmers, the wildlife, and the refuges? Why is a federal government 3000 miles away destroying our homeland and inflicting losses on its people? How does destroying these places make sense in the overall order of civilization, ecosystem health, and long-term vision?

I initially turned to research for therapy and to employ my talents to find solutions. I read, learned, and asked questions. As my questions were unanswered, I used self-education to develop knowledge and situational understanding. My findings on the cause of the Klamath Basin Crisis are disturbing. I often get an awkward silence or disengagement when I ask my questions. When I offer my opinion or recommend solutions, I am ignored.

I have been unsuccessful in getting answers to many of these questions, nor do I have any ability to influence change to the destructive policies. The Department of Justice and the actions of the solicitors and attorneys today mirror the same approach as in the late 1990s, leading to chaos and conflict in 2001. Should blame be placed on those responsible for the destruction?  Is it just no more than bureaucratic ineptitude, as many claim? These questions weigh heavily on my mind, leaving me feeling powerless in the face of such destruction.

Water will likely return to the refuges in 2025 to maintain a small percentage of the ecosystem. This water will help my heart…and bear the fruit of frustration. I will be asked to assist and deny the farming community. I will be asked to help and hurt my neighbors in their ability to sustain and bring crops to market. The Klamath Basin crisis not only affects the environment but also the livelihoods and relationships within the local community. I will be asked to help and hinder the fabric of the American Dream and to undermine the foundation of national security - food security. I will still be left with the question-“Why?”

As the emigrants, the settlers, and the Indigenous populations have experienced over thousands of years of history, various natural and man-made disasters continue to haunt us and our future generations—The refuge my great-grandfather and great-grandmother found in this land is not mine.

also published in The AG Mag, 2024 Fall issue, RB9 Publishing

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