The broad avenue features overgrown grass strips after recent downpours. Jamal Johnson strolls home along the center line with his plastic bag, a lone figure in the quiet. He resides in one of the simple wooden homes lining both sides, many preserved across generations. No one else appears, though a freight train rumbles past on tracks beside the northern yards. West Port Arthur, Texas, resembles other modest southern neighborhoods except for the imposing threat beyond the rails.

This area feels bleak and troubling. "Many friends and relatives have suffered strange illnesses," Johnson notes, his expression tightening. He mentions a grandfather and young aunt lost to cancer after she moved here to help family. An uncle passed from ALS complications. "They release these toxic gases constantly. It's messed up."

Looming behind him and overshadowing all homes stands a vast industrial complex of pipes, towers and tanks. Some claim flares from the stacks light clouds as far as Winnie, 30 miles distant. This is the Motiva refinery, among America's largest, spanning 3,600 acres with capacity expanded last year to 654,000 barrels daily.

Aramco of Saudi Arabia took full ownership in 2017. Named a top Fifa partner in 2024, it serves as the World Cup's sole energy sponsor, visible on broadcasts during Europe's heatwave. Its branding appears via pitch ads, venue displays and a lively Aramco Arena at Houston's fan zone. Houston hosts its last match Saturday as Canada meets Morocco in the round of 16.

Port Arthur, 100 miles east of Houston, lacks such glamour. Its 55,000 residents face hardship. A 2021 report ranked it Texas's poorest city, with median household income around £27,700 and homes valued near £49,800. Nearly 30 percent live in poverty, alongside poor health metrics. Cancer rates surpass state averages, with mortality in the mainly Black population reportedly 40 percent higher than Texas norms. Childhood asthma approaches twice the national figure. Heart disease ranks in the 90th percentile nationally, and skin ailments abound.

"This is a hellhole," says Greg Richard, a fence-line resident near the Motiva site. Port Arthur sits amid refineries run by Valero and Total too, yet locals feel bypassed by any oil prosperity. "It seems the streets should gleam with wealth," Richard adds. "But clearly they do not."

Residents question who might be next. They know the airborne releases: benzene levels rank among the nation's highest, alongside methane, carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulphide and sulphur dioxide. Though EPA limits apply, breaches occur often, with long-term exposure risks severe.

Motiva faced a roughly £9,900 fine this year for a 2023 sulphur dioxide incident. Last July brought a £43,000 penalty for a larger similar release. A £214,000 sanction in 2022 covered a major contaminated-water leak, partly offset by fixes. These represent just some violations before and after Aramco's arrival. A March explosion at adjacent Valero reportedly emitted over 157,000 pounds of chemicals across 10 days, leaving locals feeling they border a looming threat.

Hilton Kelley, an environmental activist raised in Port Arthur, returned permanently in 2001 after witnessing the decline and later earned the Goldman prize. "I once tallied classmates whose funerals I attended," says the 65-year-old. He recalls several from the class of 1979 lost young to cancer, including Jennifer Benson near Motiva at age 25, plus Darlene Ford, John Lando and Eddie Brown.

West-side residents, segregated until the mid-1960s under Jim Crow rules, have abandoned outdoor gardening due to residue on produce. "I tried tomatoes, peppers, beans and cucumbers, but spots and dust appear," one woman explains.

Effects on local children concern many. "School nurses show cabinets full of 30 or 40 nebulisers," Kelley says. "Babies often need breathing treatments."

Charles, a carpenter restoring a friend's rundown eatery, feels trapped. "After putting down roots, I prayed to survive," he says. "I'm older now and cannot leave. They've harmed us our whole lives."

"I notice ghosts driving this road." Kelley travels Houston Avenue, stretching a mile from the rundown downtown to Motiva's edge. It was once called "Little New York." He passes vacant lots, some grassy or littered with debris. "This spot held Antoine's Auditorium. Aretha Franklin, Al Green and Ray Charles performed here, along with the Chi-Lites and other acts. Neon lit everything. It bustled with crowds of all backgrounds."

He indicates former grocery stores, clubs and a bottling plant now gone. Only his account remains. An oil center since the 1901 Spindletop find, it once drew diverse workers. What changed?

A later stop offers insight: a turn past Motiva's gate at dusk under cloudy skies. Buses carry workers along highway 73 to distant lodgings.

"They skip local hires," Kelley says. "They could and should employ residents, but cheaper labor comes from elsewhere. Outsiders may complain less about hazards. Profits trump community needs."

The pattern persists. Richard earned a mechanical engineering degree in 1977 yet took work in Florida despite living opposite the then-Texaco site. "No local offers came," he recalls. "Hiring of professionals like me was poor, and that continues at Motiva. Staff and managers commute from afar."

Unemployment in the Port Arthur-Beaumont area stands at 5.4 percent. "We possess infrastructure for wealth yet rank among the poorest," says John Beard Jr, a former refinery employee whose group has pursued legal action against industry violations.

Beard calls it "environmental racism." Black families on the west side, rooted since segregation, lack options. Few would buy homes beside endless metal that endangers health, and offers would likely undervalue properties.

"Pollution has erased £40,000 from a £100,000 home," Beard notes. "A house across the street listed at £175,000 has sat empty nearly four years." Some allege firms exploit this with low buyouts to expand later. "They want us gone," Johnson says. "They push sales, saying we'll tire of fixes and leave for refinery land."

Shirley, living beside Motiva near the 2022 weir site, recalls Hurricane Harvey's 2017 flood when oily wastewater rose 3.5 feet indoors. "We rented elsewhere for months to rebuild," she says. "Fair offers might prompt moves, but not at £100,000. The market suffers from their actions." Motiva later installed a protective fence as part of corrective steps.

The Gulf Coast Youth Soccer Club fields stand empty now, though busy in season with area youth. Beard surveys the lot and notes an absence. "Where are Aramco or Fifa here?" he asks. "They show no presence. If soccer matters, why ignore their own business area?"

He questions Aramco's lack of visible support for local football. "Fifa should weigh accepting such funds," he says. "Strings always attach, and accountability for local harm is needed. It resembles blood money."

"I invite Fifa to visit. Soccer grows here, yet we see no outreach to fence-line communities."

Gaining any community gains from the plants has meant persistent advocacy, per Kelley. Motiva seems remote, with many steps required for engagement. Still, positives exist: Motiva is restoring downtown structures like the historic Hotel Sabine for local use. Kelley credits pollution cuts too. "Conditions are about 75 percent improved since my youth under Texaco," he says. "Yet more progress is possible."