TOPOLOBAMPO, Sinaloa — A new chapter is developing in the long battle for Ohuira Bay.
Following the arrival of massive industrial components destined for a controversial ammonia plant on Ohuira Bay, Sinaloa, members of the 12-year-old “Aquí No” (Not Here) movement have established a round-the-clock protest camp near one of the access gates of the Topolobampo Port, vowing to prevent additional equipment from reaching the construction site.
@beatrizpadilla_org Dos voces, una misma lucha. 🗣️🌊 Una empresaria y un Gobernador Tradicional de la nación indígena Yoreme Mayo comparten una perspectiva que no siempre sale en las noticias: el impacto real del proyecto de la planta de amoniaco en Topolobampo. Desde la visión de los servicios turísticos hasta la defensa del ecosistema y de los pueblos originarios, ellos nos explican por qué dicen “Aquí No”. No te pierdas estas dos entrevistas donde narran pomenores de esta lucha por proteger el Golfo de California contra otro mega-proyecto industrial basado en combustibles fósiles. 📺 Mira las entrevistas completas en YouTube: 👉 Beatriz Padilla-J6b #Topolobampo #Sinaloa #MedioAmbiente #VocesDelOcéano #YouTube #Entrevista ♬ sonido original – Beatriz Padilla
With construction nearing completion, opponents are mounting one of their last opportunities to stop the project before it begins operating. The plant is being developed by Gas y Petroquímica de Occidente (GPO), part of the Switzerland-based Proman Group. Designed to produce 2,200 tonnes of anhydrous ammonia per day and store 75,000 tonnes on site, it would be one of the largest facilities of its kind in Latin America. Industry sources reported that construction was roughly 88% complete in May, though the company has said production is not expected to begin until 2027.
Ammonia is a highly toxic industrial chemical used primarily in fertilizer production. Opponents say the project poses public safety risks in the event of a major chemical release and environmental risks to the fisheries and marine ecosystems of Ohuira Bay.
The environmental risk study of the company itself cited the risk of a toxic cloud reaching 45 kilometers in diameter in the event of a pipeline rupture — threatening more than 400,000 people. Critics also point to the plant’s plans to discharge warmer, more saline water into the bay, which they say could significantly reduce shrimp production and disrupt marine ecosystems throughout the lagoon system.
The current protest is part of a broader international campaign known as Whales or Gas, a coalition of more than 40 organizations opposing what they describe as the accelerating industrialization of the Gulf of California. The movement argues that a growing network of LNG terminals, pipelines, petrochemical facilities, ports and shipping routes threatens one of the world’s most biodiverse seas, home to whales, dolphins, sea turtles and hundreds of fishing communities that depend on its waters.
On the front lines
To block construction on the plant, activists have established a camp across from one of the port’s access gates. While one component had already been transported to the construction site, another remained inside the port. On Tuesday, protesters blocked a crane from entering through one gate to assist in moving the remaining component, according to Yoreme fisherman and collective member Carlos Valenzuela. The crane later gained access through another entrance, and the blockade ultimately failed.
Despite the setback, protesters remained on alert and said the encampment would continue indefinitely.
Among those sleeping at the encampment is Yoreme leader Melina Maldonado, who only weeks ago traveled to Berlin to challenge the German public financing behind the project.
There, she delivered a warning to German parliamentarians and representatives of KfW, the state-owned development bank helping back the project:
“We are not going to allow a single liter of ammonia to be produced,” Maldonado told them. “Your money is at risk.”
On Sunday as the city celebrated Día de la Marina, fishermen and other residents staged a flotilla protest in Topolobampo Bay, decorating boats with banners reading “Aquí No,” carrying Yoreme flags and signs opposing the ammonia plant. In an unexpected show of support, the queen of the annual maritime celebration, Zaira Dávalos, left the official vessel and climbed aboard a fishing skiff carrying an “Aquí No” banner.
According to Maldonado, Dávalos is the daughter of a fourth-generation fishing family and her gesture carried special significance in a community whose identity is deeply tied to the bay. “She said that, as queen of the men of the sea, she opposes the petrochemical project they want to put in her sea,” said Maldonado.
“Right now we’re at a peak in this movement,” Maldonado reflected. “People who never really understood what the ammonia plant was are seeing these huge reactors arriving in our territory, and there is fear throughout the community. I can say this is one of the moments that has hurt my soul the most and strengthened my commitment to keep defending this territory with everything I have, because children should not have to live with fear.”
A sacred bay under threat
Ohuira Bay forms part of the Santa María-Topolobampo-Ohuira lagoon system, a Ramsar wetland of international importance known for its mangroves, migratory birds, sea turtles and productive fisheries. The bay supports a significant shrimp industry and some 4,000 fishing families that have depended on its waters for generations and serves as a nursery for many marine species and holds deep spiritual significance for the Yoreme.
“Everything starts here in the bay, in the mangroves,” said diver and tour operator Sinhue Peña, who has spent more than a decade working in Topolobampo’s waters. “If you affect the mangroves, you affect everything that comes after.”
Peña, who is also promoting a proposal to protect nearby Farallón Island as a natural protected area, said the bay’s ecological value is inseparable from the communities that depend on it.
Opponents point to the company’s environmental impact assessment (MIA in Spanish), which states the plant would withdraw about 2,000 cubic meters of seawater per hour and discharge warmer, saltier water back into the bay. Studies cited by the movement, including research by CIIDIR-Sinaloa, estimate shrimp production could decline by as much as 60% — more than 500 tonnes annually.
For Valenzuela, who was sleeping at the blockade alongside his 11-year-old daughter Esmeralda, the struggle is also cultural and spiritual.
“Our ancestors taught us that the sea has life, that the sea feels,” he said. “Within our worldview we have a strong bond with nature, with the animals, with the sea, with the rain, with the sky, with the water… but we know that if this plant begins operating, our lives and all of this are at risk.”
Movement leaders insist they are not opposed to development itself. The name of their campaign — Aquí No — reflects their argument that industrial projects of this scale should not be located in one of Mexico’s most productive coastal wetlands.
Asked what message she wanted to send beyond Ohuira Bay, Maldonado rejected the idea that Indigenous communities should be forced to sacrifice their territories in the name of development.
“My children, too, have souls; they have life, they have feelings,” Maldonado said. “Let them help me protect the future and the present of these children here—children who should not have to pay the price of development.”
Who gets to decide?
For opponents, the consultation process remains the original wound at the center of the conflict.
They argue that the communities whose lives are most closely tied to Ohuira Bay never gave their consent. According to Felipe Montaño, traditional governor of the Yoreme-Mayo community of Ohuira, the four Yoreme communities surrounding the bay voted against the ammonia plant. But when seven additional communities were added to the process, the communities that would live with the project’s impacts became a minority in the very consultation meant to determine their future.
“The communities that live off the bay and depend on it said no,” he said. “But their voices were diluted by communities that would not suffer the direct impacts.”
Movement leaders also allege that some communities were offered public works projects and other benefits while opponents faced pressure and threats. In November 2025, eleven UN special rapporteurs raised alarms warning of grave human rights violations throughout the plant’s development, such as the disruption of specific ways of life and cultural practices related to nature and the land. The company and government authorities have denied those allegations and maintain that the consultation complied with legal requirements.
KfW, the German development bank helping finance the project, declined to discuss the contents of recent meetings with members of the Aquí No movement, citing confidentiality. In a statement to Mexico News Daily, the bank said it continues to review the project under the Equator Principles and referred questions about environmental and human rights concerns to a 15-page response it submitted last year to the U.N. Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights.
In a written response to Mexico News Daily, Semarnat said Environment Secretary Alicia Bárcena will travel to the region to meet with Mayo-Yoreme communities, fishermen and other local stakeholders, acting on instructions from President Claudia Sheinbaum. The announcement comes after opponents spent more than a year seeking a direct meeting with Bárcena and publicly criticizing the ministry for failing to engage with affected communities.
A shifting tide
For Claudia Campero of the Ballenas o Gas campaign, the recent wave of victories across Mexico’s coasts has changed the psychology of movements that once seemed destined to lose.
“These projects are always presented as inevitable,” Campero said. “People are told that the decision has already been made and that there is nothing left to do. What we’re seeing now is that communities are beginning to understand that’s not necessarily true.”
Campero said the fight over Ohuira Bay is part of a broader struggle over the future of the Gulf of California, where communities are pushing back against an accelerating wave of industrial development.
“The question is what kind of Gulf we want,” she said. “One dominated by petrochemical projects, export infrastructure and industrial shipping, or one that continues to sustain fishing communities, biodiversity and local economies.”
The cancellation of the Vista Pacífico LNG project in Topolobampo earlier this year, she said, demonstrated that organized communities can still influence outcomes even after years of planning and investment.
“People see those victories and realize they are not alone,” Campero said. “They realize these projects can still be challenged.”
Beatriz Padilla of Voices of the Ocean contributed to this report. See her interviews with frontline activists, including Felipe Montaño, HERE.
Tracy L. Barnett is a Guadalajara-based freelance writer and the founder of The Esperanza Project.
