Guardian of Grand Bois: Clarice Friloux—homemaker, arm wrestler, sludge fighter - Profile

Sierra, May-June, 2002 by Janisse Ray

Meanwhile, the trial continued, focused on Exxon. One week later the Louisiana jury decided that only 4 of the 11 plaintiffs could solidly link their suffering to the facility, and awarded them a total of $35,000. The plaintiffs appealed and forced Exxon to pay an additional undisclosed amount in 2000.

Today, all 16 pits are still open, Clarice says, and the berm has not been constructed, although the majority of the waste is now going to other facilities. "Ours was not a terribly apparent victory," says Robichaux. "But things are a lot better off." Attorney Jones echoes those thoughts: "None of the oil companies want to send waste there anymore. It's a totally different facility than it was in '94. What Clarice accomplished for her community and family was nothing short of amazing."

In the late afternoon we visit with R. J. and his wife. A motorcycle is parked in their den, one wall of which is lined with trophies and medals. R.J., a lithe, handsome man, with his hair shaved over the ears and hanging long and silky in the back, is a national arm-wrestling champion, too. R.J.'s accent is even stronger than Danny's. He sounds like this: Dey figgered de people don hear won say nuttin. "That's the thing about Cajun people," he says. "You push them around too long and they fight back."

Though the case has been legally settled, it still riles R.J. "The government wasn't worried about people," he says. "It was worried about strangling oil and gas." He turns away, his voice tight with emotion. "We're not trying to stop oil and gas. We're trying to save our community."

"With all our proof, we should have shut this place down five times," R. J. says. Like the rest of the residents, he knows the implications of staying may be grave, for him and for his children: greater health risks, threat of fatal disease, shortened life spans. But to leave, his family would have to walk away from their property. It would never sell, since a bank would not loan money to anyone to buy it. Nor do any of them want to leave this land they love. "There are beautiful places in this world," R.J. says. "None like this place here."

Clarice agrees. "Our roots have been here for the last hundred years," she says, throwing her hands into the air as if to embrace heaven. "We belong here. It's not finished for me, no matter what. I still have to shut down the waste site."

JANISSE RAY, a native of Georgia, is author of The Ecology of a Cracker Childhood (Milkweed Editions, 1999).