VOL. 46, ISSUE 3 • SEPTEMBER 2022 US $4.99/CAN $6.99 QUARTERLY Cultural Survival STEWARDSHIPINDIGENOUS Fulfilling Our Responsibilities to Land and Community
Introduction to Working with the Land Workshop with
Writers’ Guidelines View writers’ guidelines at our website (www.cs.org) or send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Cultural Survival, Writer’s Guidelines, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238.
TREASURER Steven Heim CLER K Nicole Friederichs Valine Brown (Haida) Kate R. Finn (Osage) Laura MrinaliniStephenGrahamMarksRai(Rai) Tui Shortland (Māori) Jannie Staffansson (Saami) Stella Tamang (Tamang)
3 BOARD OF DIRECTORS
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22 Rescuing Tanchara Community Lands from Gold Mining through Biocultural Community Protocols Bernard Guri (Dagara) In Ghana, Indigenous values are the basis for community organizing to defend sacred lands. 24 Securing Indigenous Land Rights in Nepal Dev Kumar Sunuwar (Koĩts-Sunuwar) Land rights activists Nanda Kandangwa (Limbu) and Ritu Thapa (Magar) are tirelessly working to secure title and access to Indigenous lands.
Is the Solution
youth organized by Sarah Hudson
29 Bazaar Artist Eliseo Ramirez
21DEPARTMENTSExecutiveDirector’sMessageIntheNews Q’eqchi’) ( ) photo: Māori (see page by
Toroa Creative. Page 12 Page 14 Page 16 Page 18
4 Indigenous Languages Oneida Language Nest 6 Indigenous Arts Decolonizing Through Color 8 Rights in Action Indigenous Rights Are Essential to the Rights of Nature 10 Climate Change Louisiana Tribes Adapt to Climate Change While Upholding Sovereignty 26 Keepers of the Earth Fund Grant Partner Spotlight Reclaiming Indigenous Lands in Costa Rica: FRENAPI 28 Staff Spotlight Pablo Xol (Maya
VICE PRESIDENT John King
SEPTEMBER
PRESIDENT Kaimana Barcarse (Kanaka Hawai’i)
12FEATURES#LandBack
Zapotec
FOUNDERS David & Pia Maybury-Lewis Cultural Survival Headquarters 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140 t 617.441.5400 f 617.441.5417 www.cs.org Cultural Survival Quarterly Executive Editor: Daisee Francour (Oneida) Managing Editor: Agnes Portalewska Contributing Arts Editor: Phoebe Farris Copy(Powhatan-Pamunkey)Editor: Jenn Goodman Designer: NonprofitDesign.com Copyright 2022 by Cultural Survival, Inc. Cultural Survival Quarterly (ISSN 0740-3291) is published quarterly by Cultural Survival, Inc. at PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Periodical postage paid at Boston, MA 02205 and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Cultural Survival, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Printed on recycled paper in the U.S.A. Please note that the views in this magazine are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Cultural Survival.
of Khadi Oaxaca Cover
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VOLUME
Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan) Demetrius Johnson (Diné) speaks about NDN Collective’s #LandBack campaign. 14 Moondang-ak Kaaradjiny: We Are the Carers of Everything Jack Collard (Nyoongar) Nyoongar Peoples are revitalizing their culture and building capacity to again assume their roles as the carers of land. 16 Noongar Housing First Tina Pickett (Noongar) and Lara Silbert Noongar Mia Mia takes a cultural approach to housing and homelessness in Perth, Australia.
18 Honoring Our Soil: Hua Parakore Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan) Dr. Jessica Hutchings (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Huirapa, Gujarat) speaks about a Māori verification and validation system for food and agriculture. 20 The Struggle to Implement Maya Land Rights in Belize Cristina Coc (Q’eqchi’ Maya) At the center of the Maya struggle is the ambition to transform Belize to respect Indigenous relationships with territory.
Our Lands, Our Rights, Our Responsibilities
CULTURAL SURVIVAL STAFF Galina Angarova (Buryat), Executive Director Mark Camp, Deputy Executive Director Avexnim Cojtí (Maya K’iche’), Director of Programs Monica Coc Magnusson (Q’eqchi’ Maya), Director of Advocacy and Policy Verónica Aguilar (Mixtec), Program Assistant, Keepers of the Earth Fund Bryan Bixcul (Maya Tz’utujil), Executive Coordinator Jessie Cherofsky, Advocacy Program Researcher Michelle de León, Executive Assistant Roberto De La Cruz Martínez (Binnizá), Information Technology Associate Danielle DeLuca, Senior Development Manager Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan), Indigenous Radio Program Coordinator Sofia Flynn, Accounting & Office Manager Nati Garcia (Maya Mam), Capacity Building Manager Adriana Hernández (Maya K'iche'), Emerging Strategies Coordinator Dev Kumar Sunuwar (Koĩts-Sunuwar), Community Media Program Coordinator Maria del Rosario “Rosy” Sul González (Kaqchikel), Indigenous Rights Radio Program Manager Bia’ni Madsa’ Juárez López, (Mixe/Ayuuk ja’ay & Zapotec/Binnizá), Keepers of the Earth Fund Program Manager Marco Lara, Social and Digital Media Coordinator Kevin Alexander Larrea, Information Technology Associate Jamie Malcolm-Brown, Communications & Information Technology Manager Amparo Monzón (Maya K’iche’), Program Assistant, Community Media & Indigenous Rights Radio Programs Cesar Gomez Moscut (Pocomam), Community Media Program Coordinator Edson Krenak Naknanuk (Krenak), Lead on Brazil Diana Pastor (Maya K’iche’), Media Coordinator Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua), Indigenous Rights Radio Producer Agnes Portalewska, Senior Communications Manager Sócrates Vásquez (Ayuujk), Program Manager, Community Media Miranda Vitello, Development Coordinator Candy Williams, Human Resources Manager Raquel Xiloj (Maya K’iche’), Community Media Grants Coordinator Pablo Xol (Maya Qʼeqchiʼ), Design and Marketing Associate
INTERNS AND VOLUNTEERS
This issue of the CSQ is devoted to bring ing the voices of Indigenous leaders across the globe who are risking their lives to se cure land titles, protect their territories from extractive industries, rematriate and restore land, get land back to its original stewards, and ensure that Traditional Knowledge is passed on through our Indigenous languages and arts. Indigenous Peoples are fighting for the future of our planet and to protect the remaining biodiversity on Earth, of which 80 percent is found on Indigenous territories. Unfortunately, as we know, Indigenous leaders are dis proportionately represented in attacks against land and environmental defenders. According to the International Land Coalition, nearly one-third of the 536 land and environmental defenders who were victims of non-lethal attacks in 2020 were Indigenous defenders; 86 percent of these attacks tar geted land activists defending their land and customary rights, and 50 percent were against Indigenous women. As we work towards a Just Transition to a green econo my, we need to support strengthening Indigenous Peoples’ self-determination, sovereignty, land defense, land titling, their traditional ways of managing natural resources, biodiversity conservation, and the proliferation of traditional economies andJoinlivelihoods. usinbacking Indigenous commu nities in securing their land rights and in continuing their stewardship of their territo ries. Our 50-year legacy of advocating for Indigenous Peoples’ rights is thanks to you, our community, who help make our work possible. Support us in shifting the narrative and resources for Indigenous lan guages, solutions, and leadership to build a better world for us all. Donate today to sustain this meaningful and impactful work.
STAY CONNECTED
Julia Chase, Paola Oberhauser, Kathryn Sullivan, Katya Yegorov-Crate
Dear Cultural Survival community, I t is our pleasure to present this latest issue of the CSQ dedicated to Indig enous land stewardship, the struggles to secure Indigenous land rights, and our rights and responsibilities to our ancestral territories. In November 2021, Cultural Survival launched our new strategic framework priori tizing lands and livelihoods as one of the top issues for Indigenous Peoples that re quire immediate attention. Indigenous Peoples and their lands and territories are inseparable: what hap pens to the land happens to us as Peoples. Our cultures, languages, cosmovisions, and ways of life are con nected to the lands from which we origi nate. Indigenous Peoples and our land scapes have co-evolved together, and it is this sacred, interdependent, and reciprocal relationship of place and its people that creates such richness of biodiversity and culture. As Jack Collard (Nyoongar) writes, “The universality of the totemic system across the globe speaks to its effectiveness as a mechanism to ensure balance is main tained within this web of life. As we come to know these animals, trees, plants, and elements as our brothers and sisters, we treat them as such. This intimate and profound connection is the vested interest we have in ensuring they are cared for and protected.” Highly biodiverse areas throughout the world have been found to be a direct result of Indigenous stewardship. Supporting cultural and language diversity and revital ization also directly supports biological diversity, conservation, and climate change mitigation. We believe that Traditional Knowledge is the key to protecting the land we have inhabited for millennia, and Indigenous languages are essential to main tain and transmit our Traditional Knowl edge to future generations. The erosion of languages and cultures leads to the erosion of biodiversity, land, and soil.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 1
Galina Angarova (Buryat) Executive Director www.cs.org
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR’S MESSAGE
Photo courtesy of President of India.
U.S. | Ponca Tribe of Oklahoma Declares Rivers Have Rights (JULY)
Ecuador |
On July 6, the Ponca Tribe of Indians of Oklahoma adopted a Rights of Nature Statute recognizing the “immutable rights of rivers” for two rivers that flow through their territory. In 2016, the Ponca became the first tribe in the U.S. to recognize the Rights of Nature as part of their efforts to halt fossil fuel projects on their territory.
In July, Droupadi Murmu (Santhal) was sworn in as India’s first Indigenous president.
U.S. | Supreme Court Rules against Tribal Sovereignty in Castro-Huerta vs. Oklahoma In(JUNE)a5-4 decision, The Supreme Court held that “the Federal Government and the State [of Oklahoma] have concurrent jurisdiction to prosecute crimes committed by non-Indians against Indians in Indian Country.” The ruling is a strike against Tribal sovereignty.
Leaders of the Indigenous movement in Ecuador achieved a historic victory after 18 days of national strikes. The govern ment has agreed not to expand the oil extraction frontier and not to allow mining activities on Indigenous sacred lands. It has also agreed to implement an emergency public health plan.
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Kenya | Historic Reparations Ruling for Ogiek Peoples (JULY)
An agreement was reached between the Canadian government, the Assembly of First Nations, and plaintiffs in two class action lawsuits awarding $20 billion CAD to First Nations children and families harmed by discriminatory provisions of government services and underfunding of child welfare on reservations.
In 2017, the African Court on Human and People’s Rights ruled that the Kenyan government had violated the rights of the Ogiek Peoples. In July, the Court awarded $488,000 in reparations to the Ogiek for violations of their rights under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights.
U.S. | Keystone XL Pipeline Is Dead (JUNE) TC Energy announced the termination of the controversial Tar Sand Keystone XL Pipeline project in June more than a de cade after its planing began. The pipe line would have stretched from Alberta, Canada to the U.S. Gulf Coast. The pipe line would have not only been a threat to the Ogallala Aquifer water source but also would have damaged Indigenous burial and archaeological sites. Many Indigenous water protectors, advocating for Indigenous and environmental rights, were instrumental in the cancellation of the pipeline.
The(JUNE)Hopi Tribe, Navajo Nation, Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, Ute Indian Tribe of the Uintah and Ouray Reservation, and Pueblo of Zuni signed a historic agreement with the Biden administration to co-manage 1.36 million acres of Bears Ears National Monument. The land is considered sacred to many Tribes.
mentMovementIndigenousReachesAgree-withGovernment(JUNE)
India | First Indigenous Woman President Elected On(JULY)July 25, Droupadi Murmu (Santhal) was sworn in as India’s first Indigenous woman president.
Canada | AgreementSettlementReached for Indigenous Children Underserved by Government (JULY)
IN THE NEWS Australia | Sydney Harbor Island Returned to Traditional Owners (MAY) Ownership of the island of Me-Mel in Sydney Harbor, along with $43 million AUS from the New South Wales govern ment, has been transferred back to the Eora Nation, who have had historical ties to the island for over 10,000 years. U.S. | Bois Forte Band of Chippewa Reclaims 28,000 Acres in Minnesota (JUNE) In the largest land-back agreement of its kind, 28,000 acres of land were returned to the Bois Forte Band of Chippewa in northeastern Minnesota. This returned land accounts for over 20 percent of the reservation’s land base, which was lost a century ago during the Allotment Era.
The Escazu Agreement is the first envi ronmental treaty of Latin America and the Caribbean. It entered into force on April 22, 2021 and is the first interna tional instrument including provisions on the protection of human rights defenders. It continues to gain international support after the UN Permanent Forum on Indig enous Issues urged its member States to adopt the agreement in its final report released in June. The final report empha sizes that the Escazu agreement is neces sary for ensuring the rights and safety of Indigenous Peoples defending their territories from extractive encroachment.
International | New Climate Agreement on Indigenous Perspectives Gains International Support (JUNE)
U.S. | Utah Tribes Secure Co-management of Bears Ears National Monument
Cultural Survival launched a series of exchanges with Maya leaders, organizations, and legal representatives in Guatemala and the Yucatan Peninsula on Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) to develop trainings on the topic for Indigenous communities. In July, we held a one-day conference for over 100 community members in Panajachel. Attendees included members of com munity radio stations, Indigenous ancestral authorities, and organizations that work with communities in defending their rights to self-determination and the protection of their territory. Read more news at www.cs.org/latest.
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Indigenous Delegates Face Obstacles to Participation at UNFCCC Bonn Climate After a three-year pause due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the Subsidiary Body of Implementation and Subsidiary Body for Scientific and Technological Ad vice were held in Bonn, Germany, from June 6-16, 2022. These are two permanent subsidiary bodies to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) established by the Conference of Parties (COP). As part of the ongoing meetings, Indigenous Cultural Survival’s Advocacy Program launches international campaigns in support of grassroots Indigenous movements as they put pressure on governments and corporations to respect, protect, and fulfill the rights of their communities. Peoples participated in various dialogues and negotiations on the issues that are most important to them on the road to COP27 in Cairo, Egypt. For the first time, Cultural Survival was involved in the work of the Subsidiary Bodies In the Bonn Climate Conference, participating in the Indigenous Caucus activities, Indigenous Working Groups on Loss and Damage, and Article 6, working on draft statements and side events. Throughout the Bonn Conference, Indigenous Peoples noted the need for climate finance mechanisms to be managed by Indigenous Peoples.
Reports Highlight Ongoing Indigenous Rights Violations in Japan and Guatemala (JULY) Cultural Survival collaborated on two joint stakeholder reports for the February 2023 UN Universal Periodic Reviews. The Guatemala report, submitted by Cultural Survival and Asso ciation Sobreviencia Cultural, highlighted the continued vulnerability of Indigenous Peoples in their basic right to freedom of expression due to the State’s failure to approve a regulation that would legally recognize community radio stations. In collaboration with the Association of Compre hensive Studies for Independence of the Lew Chewan Peoples, the All Okinawa Council for Human Rights, and Nirai Kanai nu Kai (Indigenous Peoples’ Organization for the Repatriation and Aerial Reburial of Ryukyuan Human Remains into original Ryukyuan Graves), the Japan report focused on the situations of Ainu and Ryukyuan (Okinawa) Peoples, highlighting violations of their rights to self-determination, ancestral lands, and territories, fishing and subsistence, repatriation of ancestral remains, and Indigenous women’s rights.
Guatemala: Cultural Survival Organizes Convening on FPIC (JULY)
Nairobi Convention on Biodiversity Establishes New Target on Gender and Inclusive Biodiversity Negotiations to develop the Post2020 Global Biodiversity Framework in preparation for the 15th meeting of the Conference of the Parties to the Conven tion on Biological Diversity (CBD COP15) were held in Nairobi, Kenya from June 21–27, 2022, with the goal of reaching consensus and specifying the text of the framework program to be finalized and adopted at CBD COP15 in December in Montreal, Canada. The biggest achievement was the inclusion of a new target related to gen der. At negotiations in Geneva last March, the Parties adopted a draft of the Gender Action Plan as a guide in developing and updating their 2030 Biodiversity National Biodiversity Strategy and Action Plans. Target 22, now in the draft text of the document, includes women and girls, persons of diverse gender identities, youth, and people with disabilities.
ADVOCACY UPDATES Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 3
Promoting IACHR Decision on Indigenous The Inter-American Court of Human Indigenous Maya Kaqchikel Peoples of Sumpango vs. Guate declared Guatemala “internationally responsible for the violation of the rights to freedom of expression, equality before the law, and participation in cultural life” of Indigenous Peoples. Cultural Survival and our partners are working to promote the implementation of the decision. In July, a gathering of radio organizations and ancestral authorities in Guatemala publicized the decision and built strategies for implementation.
Revitalizing the Oneida Language through INDIGENOUS LANGUAGE IMMERSION
Daisee Francour: What is a language nest?
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Yekuhyiso Rosa King: A language nest is an immersion educational program geared towards children [age] zero to eight that uses only the target language as the sole medium of instruction. However, language nests vary within different Tribal communities. In our Tribal commu nity, we serve students in preschool and in a K-1 combined classroom. That is a prime age for influencing the students not only in their physical development, but their social, emotional, mental, and spiritual development; they’re like sponges at that age. We teach everything to students in Oneida, whether that be social skills or things that are more content-based, like letters and numbers and colors. Our main goal is to create speakers and to boost the speaker ship and the proficiency of Oneida through a holistic, cultural, ceremonial-based approach and curriculum within our educational programming.
Why is language revitalization so important to Indigenous communities?
Language revitalization is incredibly important because it contains our worldview of who we are as Indigenous Peoples. It is the key to our culture, our history, to connect ing with our ancestors and all these spiritual and meta physical aspects around us. It is a central part of our iden tity and shows us and tells us who we are as an Indigenous Peoples. Indigenous languages are important because it’s how we transfer knowledge, communicate, and connect with our culture.
r. Yekuhsi•yó Rosa King is an enrolled member of the Oneida Nation of Wiscon sin and a member of her Nation’s Turtle Clan. She was born and raised on the reservation and has been learning the Oneida language for over 10 years. She is a licensed American Indian Language teacher by the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction and is currently a lead instructor in the TehatiwлnákhwaɁ Language Nest Immersion Program, which serves students ages 3-7. King has a bachelor’s degree in American Indian Studies from the University of MinnesotaTwin Cities, a master’s degree in Tribal Administration and Governance from the University of Minnesota-Duluth, and an Ed.D. Doctorate in First Nations Education from the University of Wiscon sin-Green Bay with a focus on Indigenous language immersion education. Prior to working at the TehatiwлnákhwaɁ Language Nest Immersion Program, she taught the Oneida language in a local public school district for grades K-12 and also taught adult learners at the College of Menominee Nation Green Bay.
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King is also an artist and has a background in traditional Iroquois arts, specifically sewing regalia, moccasin making, and raised beadwork. Daisee Francour (Oneida) recently spoke with Dr. King about her language revitalization work.
Dr. RosaYekuhsi•yóKing
I am a lead instructor in our younger classroom. We call it the seed classroom, or the Ka•nлheɁ nikлtsyokwó•tл
They’re three and four years old. I’ve been doing this for four years, since the program began. I was actually the first teacher when we only had one teacher, and now we have six. We have one lead instructor and one co-lead instructor in each classroom. The lead instructor generally has a high er proficiency, but they’re paired with a colleague to help boost their proficiency to serve as a communication ex ample for students to learn from, and also to work together to help serve our students. Team teaching is very beneficial to students. It’s beneficial to the group of teachers, and it helps alleviate a lot of the business of running a classroom. I’m also head instructor of the entire program and a liaison to the administration and parents. I train all the teaching staff in pedagogy immersion instructional skills as well as Oneida language proficiency and comprehension, so that they’re fully prepared to be implemented into a class within one or two years time to take on the roles of a lead and a co-lead instructor in each new classroom that we add.
All photos courtesy of Yekuhsi•yó Rosa King.
In our classrooms, students learn a variety of cultural and holistic mathematical and science content. We apply a theme approach. Our program is very hands on and incorporates outdoor education as well. For example, during planting season students learn about the planting cycle, what is needed to grow a plant, the different parts of a plant, how to plan and organize a garden, and our tradi tional agricultural planting methods. Math, science, and emerging literacy skills are woven into each lesson. They also learn social skills, and how to use the language to express themselves in a social setting. Each day is a combination of content, play, social skills, life skills, and every thing in between. All of those things combined together make a solid foundation for students and sets them up for success in their lives.
Even though our program has only been in existence for four years, we have already seen a lot of suc cess in the speakership of our students, staff, and families. We’ve seen an increase in awareness about the importance of our language. We’ve seen discussion and dialogue about the importance of funding language immersion programs. That’s really key because we can’t have these programs if we don’t have adequate funding.
Teacher training is a critical aspect of immersion programming. There are no places that teach you how to be an Oneida language immersion instructor, so for us, we have to do teacher training in-house. In addition to teaching our students, our program also has a secondary education aspect which is teacher training. Language immersion needs funding without strings attached or reporting, and we need to support these programs whole heartedly. I work in a program that’s grant funded, and we have so much extra work to do in addition to literally saving our language. Because we are fully grant funded, we have reports to write and have to monitor every single thing. Eliminating some of those things would make our jobs easi er so we can focus on what matters, and that’s teaching and learning the language for our students and our children.
What are some of your hopes and aspirations for the International Decade of Indigenous Languages (2022–2032)?
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It’s very important to celebrate this decade, but there’s more that’s needed than just a celebration of Indigenous languages. To celebrate, we have to acknowledge them, but we also have to fund them. We have to give them the funding for adequate teacher training and resources in order to best serve their students. It has to be more than just words. We need inclusive educational policy change to include Indigenous language programs as adequate, valuable, and equitable educational programs, and to acknowledge them as a form of education so that Tribal communities can administer these programs and choose however or whatever way they want to educate their children in their community. An aspiration for this Decade is pushing the dialogue further. Let’s discuss the needs about Indigenous languages in our communities, Indigenous communities across the world, and also ensure that Indigenous communities are in the driver’s seat, that they are leading the conversation. Indigenous Peoples know what is best for their community. They know the needs of these programs. Teachers, specifi cally immersion teachers, really know what the needs are of a program. They should also be at the forefront of these conversations.Ihavealot of hope for the future for Indigenous lan guages. I know my community, and we will make it happen no matter what. We are so driven and passionate about our language. Our language literally is a medicine. It can be used to heal all of these social issues that affect our community. Drugs, alcohol, substance abuse—those are serious issues that plague our communities. Culture and language programming boosts identity. It provides a solid foundation for a person that can be used to help combat things like substance abuse, and be used to heal from them as well. I’ve seen a lot of progress in our community in terms of where we’re going with our language. I’m excited because things are coming full circle. You can see it happening in our community right before our eyes. Students are learning. They’re speaking from nothing, the language that has been out for generations before them. But we’re bringing it back through our language nest.
Why is language immersion such an essential part of language revitalization?
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Indigenous language immersion is one of the most suc cessful language revitalization techniques. It can literally bring a language back to life in communities that have no speakers. It’s proven to boost proficiency, comprehen sion, speakership, and creates speakers of an Indigenous language.
I am from Victoria, Australia. My clan originates from Maloga on the Murray River. Our family was put on the Cummeragunja Mission in New South Wales. I’ve been an artist since I was a small child. I was an international product designer and coming towards the end of my professional life when my sister and I started to search for our Indigenous roots and tried to make contact with family. As my connection with my family grew, my interest in ochre-based paints grew.
I live in Whakatāne, Aotearoa with my family. Whakatāne is Ngāti Awa land, so I live where my ancestors used to occupy. I live on stolen, confiscated land (by the Crown), which was then resold for generations. I’m an artist, a mom, and a researcher. I have been a practicing artist for about 10 years, working with earth pigments for about a year and a half. But land has always been a major theme through my work [and] all Māori people’s work.
Indigenous Artists Revive the Practices of Natural Pigment Processing
THROUGHDECOLONIZINGCOLOR
Sarah Hudson. Inset: Whakapapa Tuhoe pigment on cotton. Photos by Sarah Hudson.
Lorraine Brigdale (Yorta Yorta):
Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Pūkeko, Ngāi Tūhoe):
I am in an art collective called Mata Aho Collective. We’re a collective of four Māori women and we make large scale installations with industrial materials based on Māori textile practices. That’s one part of my collective art mak ing. Another part is Kauae Raro Research Collective, which is myself and Lanae Cable. We are from Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Pūkeko, and Ngāi Tūhoe, and we explore this place where we grew up and see what art materials we can make. We’re interested in the processes of our ancestors, who were self-sustainable and responsive to the environment. I’m finding more and more relevancy through gathering materials in a respectful, reciprocal way. We research, which means walking around and touching mud, talking to people, and digging through historical texts, usually ethnographic descriptions of our people. And we make paint and do paintings.
Laura Harvey (CS INTERN) Until the advent of 19thductionpigmentsyntheticprointheCentury, paint pigments were either mined, gathered from plants, or processed from animals. As society becomes more aware of the toxicity and health impacts from synthetic paints, an increasing number of artists are returning to processing their own natural pigments. Indigenous artists are leading the revitalization of natural pigment production through traditional artistic processes, applying their values and honoring their kinship to land and all living things. Cultural Survival spoke with three In digenous artists about the revival of this art and cultural practice and the resurgence movement to ensure the con tinuity of land-based natural pigment processing.
Camas Logue (Klamath, Modoc, and Yahooskin): Waq lis ?i gew ?a seesas Camas Logue. I am an enrolled member of the Klamath Tribes and belong to the Klamath, Modoc, and Northern Paiute. I am living with my wife and family in the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community in northwest Washington. As a multidisciplinary Native contemporary artist, I work with the traditional weaving and carving techniques taught to me by my Elders. I’m also an illustrator, printmak er, woodworker, and musician. My primary language is oil painting. The pigments in paint are made up of minerals and earth. As a fluid medium, paint is governed by the same geological processes as the land. I’m interested in representing the dynamic events that occur at the Earth’s surface, using materials and actions to mimic natural forces— seismic shaking, wind, moving water, freezing, and thawing. Through layered pigments and applied process, I encour age the painting’s surface to experience deformation, translocation, or chemical reaction. I believe we can see the connections between ourselves and everything around us by learning to read the patterns in the land.
The first step in making paint with natural pigments is foraging. Foraging for food, medicine, and construction materials has been guided by similar cultural protocols in many Indigenous communities around the world. As Hudson explains, “we follow customary practices of only taking what we need and tending to and caring for the environment
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The collective art making process is a way for Hudson to embed Indigenous community relations into her art, but it makes it difficult for her to make a sustain-able living.
Developingtechnologies.anartistic practice based upon natural pigments is not a simple task. Indigenous artists can be shamed for not creating what others perceive as “traditional” art. Additionally, the use of natural resources raises ethical questions. “Leave no trace” principles, contested land ownership, and fears of intensive extraction have all dis couraged artists from foraging for their colors. Instead of using the raw pigment, Brigdale processes her ochres to make high quality watercolors. The kinds of paintings she creates are not generally recognized as an Aboriginal use of ochres, and because of this, she is not always recog nized as an Indigenous artist in the commercial art world.
Hudson sees the positive ripple effect of this work: “The kids are going to learn how to make paint and go out in the field and that’s so exciting to me. I wish I knew this stuff as a kid, and I’m really excited that these kids will know. My kid knows so much, and she tells all the [other] kids. I’m really proud and excited about that.”
The commercialization of natural pigments also raises ques tions around who is entitled to profit from these materials.
Brigdale believes that one of the strongest modes of decolonization is education. In talking to people at her shows, she has found that her art provides an opening for people who are curious and allows her to share stories of her Indigenous experience and Aboriginal history. Both Brigdale and Hudson are currently working in schools, encouraging children to play and make art in the natural world while becoming informed on the Indigenous history of the landscape. In this way, the increasing popularity of natural pigments is facilitating the next generation of Indigenous and settler children to build a reciprocal, decolonized relationship with the land through visual expression. Logue also values the perspectives on Indig enous youth, who he says are able to see through so much of the colonial conditioning, and because of that, he “can’t wait for the creations, new perspectives, and the change they are bringing.”
Lorraine Brigdale. Shades of ochre and charcoal. Image courtesy of Lorraine Brigdale.
Hudson reflects, “When I started using earth pigments, I found it really hard to sell the work. It’s stolen Maori land in the first place, and then there’s a bunch of other stuff going on top of that. I’ve come back and taken a piece, and then I commercially benefit from selling that land again . . . where do I sit in that cycle?”
Camas Logue in the studio doing an underpainting of oil paint on wood panels. Inset: spruceapigmentVivianiteinsidepetrifiedsitkacone.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 7 while we’re there.” Brigdale follows a similar ethos while foraging in Australia; she always asks her Yorta Yorta ancestors for permission to take something and practices reciprocity as a way to give back. “One of the things that I often do when I’m foraging is I take a plastic bag so I can put the rubbish in when I can pick it up,” she says. Logue also believes that natural pigments, along with all natural resource extraction, should be used in accordance with the return of land and asking for permission from the IndigenousKnowingcaretakers.whatmaterials to forage and understanding how to process them can be challenging. Hudson’s research collective uses a combination of ethnographic documents and intuitive foraging to relearn the ochres and processes that her ancestors have used. Logue’s interest in natural pigments began when he stumbled across vivianite, a blue pigment used by Indigenous artists across the Pacific Northwest, in a shell midden while foraging for mushrooms. He has since learned from his Tribe’s basket weavers about the yellow dye that can be obtained from wolf moss and Oregon grape root and transferred this into his painting practice. This combination of learning from tradition, as well as intuitive learning from the landscape, places Indig enous artists at the forefront of development of natural pigment
Brigdale, Hudson, and Logue all spoke of the difficulty of being paid properly as Indigenous artists who create their own materials, especially Hudson, who works in a collective. When the collective runs work shops, gives presentations, or participates in shows, the collective is compensated for the rate of one person’s pay, despite the contribution of multiple people’s knowledge, time, and resources.
Photos by Camas Logue.
8 | www.cs.org RIGHTS IN ACTION
Environmental laws do not guarantee or protect the rights of Nature Turning Nature into a “thing,” an inexhaustible source of resources to be extracted, traded, and violated as a living being, ruined the balance and role of the environment in providing well being to all creatures. This process caused the climate crisis and accelerated natural disasters on a scale never seen before, bringing death, suffering, and hunger to living beings. In this new and scary scenario, the white man woke up and began to talk about protecting the environment, but in the context of the same laws they used to transform Nature into objects of market. Protecting the environment is a matter of justice. We need environmental laws. But why have these laws failed?
To combat these colonial processes, Indigenous Peoples have developed several defense and resistance strategies. They have fought at the expense of millions of lives, suffering genocide, annihilation, cultural and social erasure, and invisibility. And they have begun to criticize the relationships of white men with Nature, in which the environment can be used, manipulated, transformed, and destroyed for the well being of a single species. At the heart of this struggle is the concept of person hood of Nature, or the rights of natural entities such as riv ers, mountains, or forests to have a status as a legal person. As we are all interconnected to the planet, the well being of other species is also the well being of human beings. The opposite is no less true: the destruction of other species is a serious threat to the life and well being of human beings. But if Nature is so precious, why isn’t it protected? If the environment is essential to the well being of human beings, why is it subjugated and destroyed?
Edson Krenak (KRENAK, CS STAFF)
Indigenous Peoples Are Essential to THE RIGHTS OF NATURE
There are at least three reasons why the environmental laws of the West fail to do justice to Nature and the environ ment. First, the environmental laws of the West are utilitarian (as are the public policies that come from them and the culture and educational system that feeds them). The idea of sustainability is fashionable because it sells illusions and lies, promising more benefit for everyone in economic terms. In other words, Nature is valuable because it pro vides the service that creates wealth and raises living stan dards for humans. Nature is a resource for an economy that creates wealth and prosperity. We already know that this is
All photos by Jamie Malcolm-Brown Photography.
Climate change and global warming represent a real threat to human life and many other species on the planet. The Anthropocene is one concept that de scribes a fundamental rupture in human history on the planet. According to this idea, humans modified their relationship with the planet based on a culture-nature dualism given by colonial pro cesses that began in the 15th Century with the conquest of what came to be called the Americas. These colonial processes of expropriation of goods and lands and mischaracterization of the other (i.e., Indigenous Peoples), would culminate in even deeper ideas and pro grams of division and separation of the human being from their natural habitat. In the field of law, one of the legal consequences of these processes was the creation of the Western concept of private property and an oppression system of laws and governance policies.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 9 a fallacy, because consumerism and the rampant pollution of Nature are also part of the market, and of a large-scale, an unequal and oppressive world.
And finally, the white man’s systems have lost the relationship of respect, reciprocity, and sacredness with and of Nature. The capitalist and colonial system cannot guarantee the rights of Nature by this lack of ethics that is the result of ignoring the laws and relations of the natural world. In the 1920s, one of the greatest symbols of capital ism, Henry Ford, wanted to build an industrial utopia in the middle of the Brazilian Amazon forest. He wanted to create a vast rubber monoculture on the Amazon, but his plantations and workers met the same fate as his project: the jungle reacted with pests and diseases that had been kept hidden with plants for millennia. Planting in monoculture fields unlocked those diseases and caused the collapse of the capitalist utopia.
Secondly, the legal system is anthropocentric. Since the Westphalian system (1648-1918), up to the most recent advances of international instruments such as the Stock holm ConstitutionBrazilianlevel,atmentandopmentSustainableDeclarationJohannesburgopmentmentration(1982),Charter(1972),DeclarationWorldforNatureRioDeclaonEnvironandDevel(1992),onDevel(2002),ParisAgree(2015),andthedomesticasinthe1988and
The view that Nature is a person, or that environmental entities should be seen and respected as in their own legal subjectivity is derived from various Indigenous Peoples. From New Zealand to Ecuador, Indigenous views offer a radical alternative to the Western legal system with great and positive impacts on the planet. Although many States already recognize these ideas by incorporating them into their legal systems, they have failed because they exclude the main interpreters, guardians, and protectors of Nature: IndigenousIndigenousPeoples.Peoples do not see Nature as a source of services or economic value, but as a living entity in relation to them, capable of being legally represented. According to this view, our purpose as humans in the environment is to develop a spiritual and deep relationship of respect and reciprocity not based on extractivism or expropriation, but in exchange and caring. In their subjectivity, Nature entities, such as other species and phenomena (rivers, lakes, fish, winds, forests, mountains, etc.), must have rights, protections, privileges, responsibilities, and legal liability. Because they cannot represent themselves, the ancient, ethical, and successful relationship of Indigenous Peoples constitutes Native people as the best guardians who can act in defense, representation, and protection of her. As guardians, while occupying only a quarter of the world’s surface area, we are responsible for safeguarding 80 percent of the world’s remaining biodiversity. More than 20 percent of carbon is stored in Indigenous Peoples’ tropical forest territories in the Amazon Basin, Mesoamerica, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Indonesia.
the New Brazilian Forest Code (Law 12.651/2012), all of legal mechanisms are completely centered on humankind. In other words, they are laws designed to protect the human lifestyle while ignoring other species.
Another aspect, highlighted by Mallory Jang (Wet’suwet’en First Nation), is that this relationship of Indigenous Peoples with Nature is egalitarian: “Many Indigenous Nations be lieve that humans are part of Nature, that the two are equal and interdependent. Nature has always had rights in many Indigenous Nations, with Indigenous people having responsibilities and duties toward Nature to ensure their mutual survival. Nature is an essential part of many Indig enous communities and their laws.” Indigenous Peoples place Mother Earth at the center of cultural, judicial, and social systems. There can be no cultural integrity or justice without ecological integrity. Expressions such as sumak kawsay (good living) or suma qamaña (living well), ñandereko (living harmoniously), and teko kavi (good life), testify to this centrality of Nature in Indigenous cultures. History was made in Ecuador in 2007 and Bolivia in 2009 when these two countries embraced the Rights of Nature as central to their legal and social systems. It was made clear by the IndigenousNature language used to establish those laws. Since then, courts in India and Bangladesh have granted rights to the Ganges River and other ecosystems. In Uganda and some cities in the United States, Brazil, New Zealand, and Colombia, certain rivers and landscapes also have gained the status of personhood. Something is happening. This legal revolution proposed by Indigenous Peoples questions and transforms the deepest and most dangerous concept of the Western system that is the supreme capitalist concept of property. Indigenous Peoples not only place on an equal footing the rights of Nature and men, especially with regard to property, but go further. They affirm that we belong to Mother Nature. We belong to rivers, mountains, valleys, stones, lakes, and forests. This turnaround is so profound that it extends the idea of property to other species. With their ethics of reverence, reciprocity, and care, Indigenous Peoples are essential to guarantee the rights of Nature. It is not about words and concepts, but actions and lifestyle.
“We are taking this effort . . . so we can maintain the integrity of community.”the – Elder Shirell Parfait-Dardar, Grand Caillou Dulac Band Biloxi-Chitimacha-ofChoctawTribe
relocations, the decisions are prescribed without thought to community cohesion or ancestral rootedness. Homes and properties are bought out, infrastructure is shut down, and Tribal cohesion is harmed and broken. Like the Trail of Tears, Nations endure the stress and uncertainty of moving from homes and lands they have dwelled in and been deeply connected to for generations.
Elder ofParfaitShirellDardartheGrand Caillou/Dulac Band of ChoctawChitimatcha-Biloxi-Tribe stands on a levee in Chauvin, asLouisiana,astorm approaches.
10 | www.cs.org SOVEREIGNTYUPHOLDINGCHANGETRIBESLOUISIANAADAPTTOCLIMATEWHILE
“The term ‘managed retreat’ seems to imply an orga nized exodus process; there’s no such process unless the people making the move are the ones who hold the power to say where, when, who, and how the retreat happens,” said Rosina Philippe, an Elder of the Atakapa-Ishak/ Chawasha Tribe located in Grand Bayou Indian Village on Louisiana’s southern coast, during a panel discussion. The Tribe is one of the few Indigenous communities in North America only accessible by water. Grand Bayou Village is not considering retreat. Grand Bayou Village’s Atakapa Ishak/Chawasha people are look ing to find and implement ways to live with the changes, researching ways to live with more water. They continue to advocate for not only their lifeway, but to speak on
O
Indigenous communities maintain a sacred and indis pensable relationship with the land. Communities are built around that land and its history. Burial sites dating back generations hold the remains of ancestors from long ago, and the identity and culture of a Tribe is tied to their rela tionship to the land as well as the relationships between the Tribal members. Managed retreat upends the sover eignty and self-determination of Tribes and their citizens; it is a practice that ultimately disrupts the balance between the Tribes and the lands they hold sacred. Managed retreat also threatens to create a diaspora and a form of forced assimilation, as Tribal members may not choose to relocate their families together to one area, but rather spread out into other areas.
The Lowlander Center, inclusive of Tribal leadership, First Peoples’ Conservation Council n July 26, 2022, the National Academy of Sciences, Engineering, and Medi cine’s committee on Managed Retreat in the U.S. Gulf Coast Region held a day-long conference in Thibodaux, Louisiana. The concept of “managed retreat”—the intentional relocation of people, homes, and infrastructure from coastal communities facing climate change—was the subject of the conference. “Managed retreat” has been referred to by some as climate crisis capitalism, reminiscent of “urbanIndigenousrenewal.”leaders of the First Peoples’ Conservation Council of Louisiana, an asso ciation of Tribes in coastal Louisiana working to identify and solve natural resource issues on their Tribal lands, shared their genera tional experiences of bearing witness to the environmental changes and injustices they’ve endured since the onset of colonization. The intentional relocation of entire communities not only causes distress for those communities, but carries with it a negative historical legacy and cultural genocide. Indigenous-led, justice-centered reset tlement involves an extraordinary amount of cooperation, collaboration, and resources, including being consulted in decision-making.Thepurposeofgovernment agency-run managed retreat is to get people moved away from one location. It abandons efforts to create and support protection-focused and place-based adaptation measures and fails to mitigate land loss from rising sea levels. As in previous historical
CLIMATE CHANGE
Photo by Michael Givens, UUSC.
The Isle de Jean Charles project is a heartbreaking and infuriating metaphor for how state and federal govern ments treat Indigenous Tribes in Louisiana, and many other states. Though the $48.3 million block grant was supposed to help the Tribe and its members exercise their right to self-determination, it ended up becoming a tool that the state used to advance its own agenda.
The Mississippi Delta, which has been cut up for oil extraction, is peeling away, and some of the Tribes that historically sought safe refuge 40 miles inland from the Gulf are now having to find safe refuge elsewhere. This is difficult in an area that is mired in petrochemical production and contamination along with investment groups that are driving up land prices. In 2016, the federal government awarded the state of Louisiana a $48.3 million block grant to assist with the Isle de Jean Charles Tribe’s (now called the Jean Charles Choctaw Nation) community relocation. For three years, an unproductive back-and-forth transpired between the Tribe and the state of Louisiana as to how to use the funds.
Tribal citizens are tax paying citizens, however, they are denied access to many taxpayer-funded resources because they lack a colonially-derived status of Tribal recognition.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 11 behalf of all of the other lives in the region—lives of flora and fauna, insect populations—all life forms that make human lives possible.
The Isle de Jean Charles in southern Louisiana once was 22,000 acres. Today, climate change has diminished the land to a mere 320 acres. Living with the climate change impacts and foreseeing the need to relocate, former Chief Albert Naquin of the Jean Charles Choctaw Nation worked tirelessly on plans to mitigate the impacts and, eventually, to relocate as a community. Elder Naquin and the other Tribes historically were once considered inland, “up the bayou” Tribes; the coast has come to them.
Lacking state and federal recognition is a barrier to being involved in any conversation, so federal and/or state recog nition is a coveted status for some Indigenous Tribes. Rec ognition can lead to financial resources and support from the state and the federal government, but the process is time consuming and can be too costly. Several of the coastal Tribes have had pending petitions for nearly three decades while watching the gradual washing away of theirFellowlands.panelist, Elder Shirell Parfait-Dardar of the Grand Caillou/Dulac Band of Biloxi-Chitimacha-Choctaw Tribe, echoed Philippe’s remarks. “If you have a group of people making decisions about a particular group of people and none of those people are there, you might want to be wary of any conclusions,” she said, stressing the anger and frustration of her Tribe not being included in conversations around how to most culturally appropriately and respect fully offer relocation to Tribal members.
No matter the Tribe, a key narrative that arises around managed retreat is the disrespect and disappointment that comes with being left out of discussions around how your own community will respond to climate change. “Commu nities or Peoples who are making the decision to relocate, that decision has not come easily,” Philippe said, noting that the stress of relocation is only compounded by being ignored by state officials who make unilateral decisions about when, how, and where Tribes relocate, if at all.
“People living in these areas for centuries have some thing to contribute to the conversation,” Philippe said. “The rights to ‘self-determination’ and ‘sheltering in place’ need to also be considered and have resources dedicated to making those decisions possible. I believe that we, as citizens of this country, should be afforded its protections, and we should have access to resources that would aid in provid ing basic necessities of life. Having access to safe housing, health care, and education is our inalienable right.”
“We cannot continue to be sacrificial communities.”
Elder Parfait-Dardar has learned from Elder Naquin’s experience and is using it as a guide in how her Tribe ad dresses climate change impacts. “We understand that the climate crisis is pretty foregone…if we’re going to be resil ient . . . that’s going to require some tough choices,” she said.
In 2019, fed up with how discussions were going, Elder Naquin abandoned negotiations, claiming that the state had hijacked the funds and had no interest in keeping the Tribe’s members together as part of the relocation effort and honoring the Tribe’s vision. “If you believe that the resettlement of Isle de Jean Charles was successful, you’re headed in the wrong direction,” he said during the confer ence. The state of Louisiana has been making improve ments to roads on and around the island, and it appears to be planning on turning the island into a recreational area, despite the protests of the Tribes.
The Tribes are focused on leading coastal restoration and adaptation efforts for the betterment of the entire coast. They are drawing from their ancient wisdom and knowledge to build capacity through creative, low-tech adaptation and restoration measures, such as working to fill in the canals dredged in Louisiana’s wetlands in order to restore marsh ecosystems, reduce land loss and flood risk, and protect sacred sites. The First Peoples’ Conservation Council of Louisiana will continue its vital work of calling attention to the injustice heaped upon the Tribes and its work to ensure that the Tribes are fully involved in discussions around climate adaptation.
— The Lowlander Center in Louisiana supports coastal and bayou lowlands—human and natural—by honoring all Indigenous and diverse historied groups by visioning together a just and healthy future. This article was written in collaboration with the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee as part of a series highlighting the resilience, wisdom, and power of Indigenous communities as they face the climate crisis.
Cultural Survival’s Indigenous Rights Radio Coordinator, Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan), recently spoke with Johnson about his work on NDN Collective’s #LandBack Campaign.
DJ: The #LandBack campaign is only two years old, but the movement for #LandBack began since colonizers came to this place. We’re only continuing the work that our ances tors have done before us. Our campaign’s cornerstone work on He Sapa (the Black Hills) starts with the Fort Laramie Treaty. The Black Hills are the Lakota Peoples’ sacred site, and they have every right to protect that place. Donald Trump came to visit on July 4, 2020, Independence Day here in the United States. Many Native people who call that place home were arrested, tear gassed, or pepper sprayed. Even our [President and CEO] Nick Tilsen (Oglala Lakota), and Krystal were arrested. That’s actually where the #Land
IS#LANDBACKTHESOLUTION blockingLandIndigenousDefendersthe road to Mount Rushmore to defend sacred lands in the Black Hills on July 3, 2020.
Photo by Willi White, NDN Collective.
Demetrius Johnson (Diné) is a #LandBack Organizer at Rapid City, South Dakota-based non profit NDN Collective. Originally from Tółaní, Ganado, Arizona, Johnson began community organizing shortly after being elected President of Kiva Club around the disastrous Gold King Mine spill that affected his people in 2015. He is also a long-standing lead organizer for The Red Nation, a coali tion of Native and non-Native activists, educators, students, and community organizers based in Albuquerque, New Mexico, advocating Native liberation. Johnson has been part of many campaigns advocating for the liberation of Indigenous, 2SLGBTQIA+, and working class people.
Cultural Survival: Please tell us about your work at NDN DemetriusCollective.Johnson: I work for the #LandBack campaign. There’s currently three of us within the #LandBack campaign: me; Nadya Tannous, a Palestinian woman and the other organizer; and our Director, Krystal Two Bulls (Northern Cheyenne and Oglala Lakota).
The #LandBack campaign is one of the many campaigns within NDN Collective, a Native-led nonprofit organization in the United States. The work branches from our philanthropic arm, which gives millions of dollars back into our communities: 87 percent of our funding that we receive from donors is brand new money, which means that the money that we receive isn’t being taken from money other Native organizations receive. This is all brand new money that’s getting funneled into Native communities and organizations. We also have our actions arm, which is where the #LandBack cam paign lives, along with the climate justice cam paign, education equity, and racial equity. Within the philanthropic arm we have our lending arm for Tribes that typically can’t get loans from banks or federal funds or for big projects they need to do on their reservations, for example, renewable energy or housing projects or agriculture. That’s where NDN Collective comes in, so that Tribes don’t have to lean on white-led nonprofits.
NDN Collective is really unique. It has only been around for four years, but it’s very powerful. NDN Collective serves as a place where Indigenous people doing the work can actually work on defending the land, protecting their com munities, and creating solutions without having to worry so much about the expenses, because NDN Collective is able to fund those projects and initiatives through our many grant opportunities and sponsorships.
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CS: What is the #LandBack campaign?
Since then, we launched #LandBack University, which is our online platform for people learning about the work on the front lines, people doing actual #LandBack work and expanding that conversation. The first session that we ever did was on cultural burning, how Native people manage fire and actually use fire to prevent wildfires.
onGrainfootascendedsupremacy.whiteClimbersthe100-DakotaMillssilosituatedLakotalandsin downtown Rapid City, South Dakota and mounted the LANDBACK flag. Photo courtesy of NDN Collective. hoping to expand. It’s up to 2010 now, but we are going back even further. I feel like it’s always talked about how much land was stolen from us, but how much land are we reclaiming? We’re hoping that it will be released at the end of this year. CS: How can people get involved in the #LandBack movement? Talk with your communities, your people, Elders, youth— the community you’re trying to get land back for. That should always be the first priority. That should be who you’re accountable to. We’re not the leaders of this move ment. The movement is with the people, and we are a part of the movement. Indigenous Peoples are the leaders of this movement. All we do is just put a framework around what land back is. So if you want to get involved in getting land back to your people, talk with your people first. Just listen to Indigenous Peoples. We have the solutions. I was told a long time ago, what happens to the land hap pens to the people. You can see what’s happening now: what happens to the people happens to the land. We’re slowly coming back. We need to come back in order to save this world, and #LandBack is the solution. To learn more about NDN Collective’s #LandBack campaign and #LandBack University, visit: landback.org and landback.org/u.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 13
Back campaign was born. The #LandBack campaign is reclaiming the Black Hills because that’s the heart of everything that is. That is their emergence point and sacred place. By returning the land, it allows us to return to our language, our culture, our spirituality, our kinship systems . . . There’severything.alot of momentum for the term “land back.” I was told by First Nations people in Canada that it was an auntie that started using land back when she was talking to the Canadian govern ment [in the late ‘90s], and First Nations young people [later] popularized the term through social media. We don’t claim to own that phrase, but we do work around that framing. When doing this work we don’t just do it without guidance, individually. We come back to our communities, we talk with people, Elders, youth, to make sure that we’re coming correct to this work.
CS: What are some of the strategies that you have used? What successes have you had? I started working for this campaign just a little bit over a year ago. My coworker Nadya, the other #LandBack organizer, got hired the week of July 4. We went to Rapid City, which is where the Black Hills are, where Mount Rushmore is, and [where] we did the action. Nadya and Krystal were two of the four climbers that ended up on the grain silo in the middle of Rapid City. On the 4th of July, everyone’s wanting to see fireworks. There are stat ues of every president of the United States. People come in from all over the country just to be there. And we climb up this grain silo and they do the #LandBack flag drop. Nadya and Krystal were a part of that in a very powerful moment and that galvanized a lot of people. It also let our people know we are here continuing the work of resistance and we want our land back. That was also in conjunction with rais ing awareness on the children that were sent to boarding schools during the boarding school era and finding all their bodies around those schools. It was very powerful. We definitely blew the candles out on their 4th of July.
Native people had the knowledge back then to understand there are certain things that you had to control though cul tural burning. We have done modules on Black Indigeneity, contemporary land struggles in Hawai’i and Palestine, and now one on militarism and imperialism in our communities. We did a billboard campaign all across the country. We brought in a bunch of Native artists and they designed billboards and we put them all over Turtle Island. You can see them on #Landback Art on Instagram. There’s also an amazing documentary that was recently released called “Lakota Nation vs. The United States.” Krystal was featured in that. It talks about the Black Hills and the struggle to reclaim that land. Now we’re working on a database for people to access, showing #LandBack victories in the context of Turtle Island from the last 10 years. And we’re On July 4, 2021, Indigenous climbers from 10 different Nations from Turtle Island and Palestine were arrested for confronting the legacy of
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Jack Collard Photos courtesy of Jack Collard.
For two centuries, the Nyittiyang have demonized our culture and made it illegal to practice, unless you wanted your children stolen. They fenced off our ancient paths, criminalized our fire stick farming practices, and rounded up our leaders and left them to rot on our sacred island turned prison, Wadjemup. But, the Nyoongar path has been walked so long nothing could destroy it. We stand here fearlessly walking it as the last few generations of Nyoongar could only dream of, our kaatidjen as our map, guiding us to fulfilling that oath to Boodjar yet again as only we can. The universality of the totemic system across the globe speaks to its effectiveness as a mechanism to ensure balance is maintained within this web of life. As we come to know these animals, trees, plants, and elements as our brothers and sisters, we treat them as such. This intimate and profound connection is the vested interest we have in ensuring they are cared for and protected. This is why we are the answer to this climate crisis. It is only us, the carers of everything, who can bring about the healing of over 200 years of abuse. As the Whadjuk people of Boorloo (Perth) were chased over the hills onto Ballardong boodjar, greedy Nyittiyang
Jack Collard (NYOONGAR)
Ihave ancestral and cultural ties that span from the sandy wetlands of Whadjuk country to the granite outcrops that are home to the Mungart trees of Ballardong country in Australia. My borrunga (totem) is the Googoomat (Boobook Owl). That means I must know him better than anyone else to ensure he has what he needs to survive; I protect him as he protects me. Reciprocity is at the core of all Indigenous worldviews. We have profound and intimate relationships cultivated by embodying values of patience and respect. We embolden these values in every song, dance, story, and step. These connections inform the lens through which we look at the world around us and to which we are obligated to look after as the Moondang-ak Kaaradjiny. The interconnected ness between Boodjar (country), moort (family) and kaatidjen (culture) implies our interdependency. Without Boodjar, no moort; without moort, no kaatidjen. Boodjar means country, everything that makes up the world around us. It is a word that encompasses every grain of sand to every energy conjured from our Mother Earth. Moort relates to our relations, to everyone around us— people, animals, trees, water, stars. Kaatidjen translates to knowledge. Every bit of information that is absorbed into our kaat (head) informs every step our djen (feet) take. We speak only when necessary, because this transfer is sacred and integral to ensuring that our moort are able to be the custodians needed. When the Nyittiyang (colonizers) first arrived, the leader of the Mooro clan, Dembart Yellagonga, showed compas sion and was levelheaded with his diplomatic engagement with the white-skinned people from the sea. Quickly these relations turned sour, and overnight, Galup, the place of fire (now known as Lake Monger), became a place of sorrow for Dembart’s moort. John Forrest and his redcoats rode in on horseback killing every man, woman, and child they could, clearing the land of its custodians. Enough sur vived to tell the tale, though not enough survived to fulfill their ancient oath to Boodjar. Two hundred years later, Boodjar tells the tale of this change of stewardship: the most sacred of sites intentionally desecrated, the richest of ecosystems destroyed, and the freshest of water poisoned.
MOONDANG-AK KAARADJINY We Are the Carers of Everything
The world is on the brink of no return, and the only people who can be trusted to steer us back on course are those with the greatest vested interest in seeing the radical changes needed realized. For too long our value systems have threatened Western aspirations, and now our paths are inextricably linked for survival. Climate action means divesting power and redistributing wealth to Indigenous Peoples across the globe. Symbolic gestures toward recon ciliation mean nothing to the Mother who has been abused for all these generations. We must take stock of what’s been stolen, tangibly and intangibly, and figure out how to re store balance to Boodjar, moort, and kaatidjen once again. —Jack Collard (Nyoongar) works with the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander International Engagement Organisation, which aims to nurture relationships outside of the colony in hopes to later leverage opportunities to contribute to the realization of pursuits for self-determination in Australia.
Nyoongar Men’s Camp, (AvondaleMungardupPark)
The hot fires that are inherent to current approaches led by the Department of Fire and Emergency Services on Nyoongar boodjar employ aircrafts to drop incendiaries over targeted areas to attempt to reduce fuel loads. This approach is quicker, cheaper, and requires no involvement of Nyoongar people. However, it fails to prevent or slow bushfires and has devastating effects to the ecosystem. The prescribed so-called controlled burns are hardly con trolled; the hot burns move so quickly that small animals such as frogs have no chance to move out of the way of the fire, thus becoming a major contributing factor to biodiversity loss. One key rule in Nyoongar Lore is that the burning of canopies is forbidden. One can clearly see how this helped maintain balance for thousands of years, and it highlights the advantages that Nyoongar Peoples have over non-Indigenous Peoples in the space of fire management.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 15 who hoped to profit from the fertile area now known as the Wheatbelt quickly followed. They needed Nyoongar assistance, which was initially met with resistance and acts of aggres sion. The Nyittiyang began to disrupt Nyoongar food systems, burning medicine trees such as the Balga, poisoning water holes, and fencing off ancient pathways. This catalyzed a devas tating co-dependency between the two. Our lore tells us we must never kill a tree and to only take what we need, but for the next cen tury, Nyoongar people in the area were forced to clear every tree from its roots and every rock from its place to make way for the intro duced farming techniques brought over from England. Ballardong Nyoongar boodjar, an area the size of Britain, was stripped of 93 per cent of its native vegetation for the sake of farming in the colony.
The effects are now undeniable in the dev astating dryland salinity, which causes poor water quality, damage to infrastructure, and reduction in plant growth. Excessive land clearing has exacerbated the rise of salinity as introduced non-native shallow-rooted annual crops and pastures have replaced the deep-rooted, perennial native vegetation. As the trees were removed, topsoil eroded, salinity rose, chemicals from fertilizers polluted our beeliar (our umbilical cord/waterways), and our Mother got very sick. Every day, we Nyoongars are revitalizing our culture and building up our capacity to again assume our roles as the carers we are obligated to be. One example is the Yarraguia family farm at Mungardup in the Wheatbelt, where Dembart Oral McGuire initiated the Marlak Niran Project. The Project is returning country to bushland, planting trees to the devastatingly cleared land in the area, removing non-native animals such as sheep, and bringing back karla ngara, the ancient practice of firestick farming, also known as cool or cultural burning. The results speak for themselves, as native plants and animals long lost from that area have returned in abundance. The dissonance between value systems is especially evident in fire management. Traditional Nyoongar fire man agement is predicated on the intimate connection that we have with the land and our ability to read wind conditions, soil types, and trees, and to draw upon thousands of gen erations of experiential knowledge of when and where is the best time to burn. The use of small cool burns at the driest times of the year only burn the grasses and create a white smoke that causes trees to flower and seeds to ger minate, whereas the hot fires from contemporary pre scribed controlled burn approaches burn canopies, creating a toxic black smoke that damages the ozone layer and leads to the soil heating up so much so that regrowth of vegeta tion is stunted.
Noongar Mia Mia, Perth’s only Aboriginal Community Housing Provider, has developed a world-first set of First Nations-specific Housing First Principles based on our Noongar cultural values. As Australia’s most marginalized Peoples and one of the most disadvantaged First Nations Peoples worldwide, the housing market continues to leave us Aboriginal people out in the cold. Addressing Aboriginal homelessness requires empowerment, cultural security, self-determination, and community leadership.
Being homeless on your own land feels like the ultimate injustice, yet homelessness is a reality experienced by so many. Our whole community is hurting. How can you heal when you don’t have a safe home?
Photo courtesy of Noongar Mia Mia.
Because waitlists for social housing are so long, many have experienced years of homelessness or severe housing insecurity and are already traumatized by the time they pick up their house keys. It’s not easy to go from homeless ness a stable, secure tenancy—you carry those experiences with you, and they can put your tenancy at risk. What’s more, cultural obligations mean we won’t turn our kin away when they don’t have somewhere safe to stay—again, an eviction risk factor. While the percentage of social housing evictions that are Aboriginal tenancies is non-public information, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation has published estimates that this figure may be as high as 50 percent.Ourpathways into and out of homelessness are differ ent from the mainstream population, yet most Aboriginal people in social housing in Western Australia are faced with a one-size-fits-all monolith that doesn’t understand cultural needs. Here at Noongar Mia Mia, Perth’s only Aboriginal Community Housing Provider, we believe that housing is a human right and that our culture is our birthright and greatest strength. Australia has, in theory, recognized for decades that self-determination and selfmanagement are the way forward to supporting our people and communities. In practice, though, there remains very little Aboriginal representation in the housing and home lessness sectors. Many vulnerable Aboriginal people end up assigned to non-Aboriginal support workers from non-Aboriginal organizations, who, even with the best intentions, aren’t necessarily culturally competent. Turnover means that support workers frequently come and go and the client has to start again; frequently, they just give up.
As a result of being forcibly displaced from our traditional lands and having cultural and family ties forcibly severed, Aboriginal peo ple in Perth experience homelessness at hugely disproportionate rates; almost half of Perth’s rough sleepers are Aboriginal, even though we’re less than two percent of Perth’s population. Those people are more than just statis tics, though. They’re our mothers and fathers, aunties and uncles, sisters, brothers, grandparents, and grandchildren.
Perth, Western Australia faces an enormous Aboriginal homelessness crisis, and we be lieve the solutions lie within our community.
Research shows that 56 percent of Western Australia’s population are Stolen Generations survivors and their descendants (compared to 36 percent nationally), and that three-quarters of Australians harbor negative biases against us. When you’re already holding the intergenera tional trauma of forced family separation, the legacy of colonialism and a lifetime of socio-economic exclusion and often overt racism, it’s hard to trust wadjela (white Australian) systems. As a result, many of us feel deeply alienated and unwelcome on our own land.
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A Cultural Approach to Housing and Homelessness
NOONGAR HOUSING FIRST
A Cultural Approach to Tenancy Noongar Mia Mia provides culturally-secure housing and tenancy support to a community of up to 380 people across 100+ Aboriginal tenancies. We also support 50 Aboriginal people experiencing chronic homelessness through our Moorditj Mia (Solid Homes) Aboriginal
Tina Pickett (NOONGAR) and Lara Silbert
Noongar Housing First MillieMcNamara,Bowie,AuntyElderKidsleft)HarbenBack(BoardDeniseColeDirector),PickettBoard(NoongarL-R:launch.PrinciplesFrontJasmineKadicMiaMiamember),Tina(ManagingGordon(then-Chair),Conwaymember)row:Sandra(secondfromwithTelethonInstituteNGNKco-researchersMurielUncleAlbertAuntiePenny.
Learn about the Noongar Cultural Framework and Noongar Housing First Principles at: bit.ly/NHFP-NMM
While these Principles are grounded in the international Housing First model, they reflect what matters to our people and the values of our culture. They also highlight the need for the housing sector to take an approach of doyntj-doyntj koorliny (going together with us) and working from the koort (heart), instead of imposing mainstream constructs. They recognize the centrality of community and culture to our well being and the need to strengthen our wirrin towards healing. The mainstream housing sector has failed Aboriginal people in Perth, but by putting these principles into practice, we can work together to build a brighter future. As summarized best by respected Noongar community leader Carol Innes: “Housing is a human rights and social justice issue. How are we going to grow and nurture young people without having a home? We can’t wait another 50 years. We need to see this shift and change.”
Over generations, many of us have grown connected to new places; our moort may live far from our traditional lands, and we may wish to stay where they live so that we can closely maintain kinship ties and our grandchildren can learn our stories at their grandparents’ laps. But when you have little control over where social housing is made available, you may end up far from both your traditional lands and your family, compounding your displacement and leading to extreme isolation, particularly as part of a collectivist society. Without the warmth of your extended family, without access to knowledge, you can end up “spiritually homeless.” Our collectivist values have served us well for countless generations as the world’s oldest living civilization, and they’re so important to understand in a housing context. No one should have to choose between their culture and a home.
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Housing First Support Service. Being an Aboriginal ownedand-operated organization really does make a difference: we’re by our mob (family/community), from our mob, and for our mob, and as the peak body for Aboriginal housing on Noongar boodjar (country), we’re accountable to our community for their housing outcomes. Many of the people we work with understandably have difficulty trusting wadjela support workers, especially given the all too recent history of harmful practices, policies, and systems claiming to protectBuildingus. a culturally-responsive housing sector does not just mean having more Aboriginal workers or better resourcing of Aboriginal organizations, although that’s certainly a major priority. Complex problems require collaborative solutions with the people we serve at the heart of their design. With that in mind, Noongar Mia Mia launched the Mia Moort (Home Family) research and advo cacy program, and started working on the Noongar Cultural Framework and Noongar Housing First Principles.
Reimagining Housing First through a Cultural Lens During Stage 1, we yarned with our community—Elders, tenants, people currently and formerly experiencing homelessness, and lived experience advocates—gaining their insights on what barriers they and their loved ones had faced on the way to safe, stable housing, and how the housing and support sectors could better meet their personal and cultural needs. During Stage 2, we yarned with leaders and workers from Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal organizations, sharing what we’d learned in Stage 1 and identifying knowledge gaps in the sector. Throughout this process, we worked with the Zero Project: Housing First Coordination for Western Australia team, learning about the Housing First Principles and gauging where this highly effective international model falls short in reflecting our culture and supporting our community, kin, land, and cultures.While First Nations cultures around the world are great ly diverse, what we do share are connections to moort (kin), to boodjar, and to Kaartdijin (Traditional Knowledge). The Noongar Cultural Framework is grounded in these three mutually reinforcing domains, communicating the funda mental building blocks of our culture and why they’re so key to our social and emotional well being. The importance of boodjar both for well being and sustainable Aboriginal tenancies should not be underestimated. We have been deeply connected to the particular boodjar of our family origin, and that boodjar has been fundamental to our social and spiritual identity. With colonization came wide spread displacement, dramatic changes to landscape, and often a loss of the Kaartdijin transmitted by Elders.
2. Support is flexible, culturally appropriate, and available whenever it is needed.
4. Culturally appropriate active engagement through kwop daa (honest talk).
3. Choice and self-determination with no cultural compromise.
The Noongar Housing First Principles are as follows:
1. Noongar people and their families have a right to a home with cultural connections to boodjar, moort, and Kaartdijin.
6. Social, cultural, and community inclusion.
Noongar Housing First Principles
5. Support focuses on strengthening wirrin (spirit).
— Tina Pickett (Noongar) was born and raised in Boorloo (Perth), and is Managing Director of Noongar Mia Mia. Lara Silbert is Grants and Fundraising Officer at Noongar Mia Mia, and also works at the Noongar Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
Jessica Hutchings: Like most Indigenous Peoples, I’ve always had a very strong connection to the land. That’s something that I can remember in my vibration as a child. I have very strong memories of feeling really alive in the ngahere, in the bush, and being able to connect across different realms. I have a memory of wanting to be a co-creator and a co-nurturer with nature, never to work above or against her, but rather alongside her, in awe with a sense of curiosity. It’s a spiritual journey. My connection with nature and our cultural landscapes is really through my own spiritual awareness and cultural understanding of who I am in relation to our Atua (deities) and all of the personifications in the natural world.
Jessica harvestingHutchings rongo (native medicine)planton her Hua farm.Parakore
CS: Please tell us about Māori relationship with the land.
18 | www.cs.org Hoopa Valley. Photo courtesy of California Kitchen.
JH: Hua Parakore is the first Indigenous system for verify ing and validating organic. In English, you can understand it as a Māori organic certification or verification system. We don’t talk about Māori organics, because organics is a Western framework and Hua Parakore is a cultural practice for us to produce food in balance with nature and in ways that can strengthen our cultural practices as Māori.
CS: Please tell us how you got into your line of work.
Hua Parakore produces a pure product, what our elders would talk about as a system to produce Kai Atua; that is, food from the deity, from the gods, for the gods. We’re growing Kai Atua food in its purest form, which means food in its most natural state, free from pesticides, fertiliz ers, herbicides, GMOs, nanotechnologies. It’s about grow ing food in a way that our ancestors used to grow food and reconnecting with our divine senses as Indigenous Peoples. Hua Parakore provides a decolonizing pathway to tell our own Indigenous story with regard to food produc tion. It is important that we look to Indigenous wisdoms and solutions in a time of climate, food, and soil crises. We need to think about other forms of regenerative organic agriculture and food production and the Hua Parakore is an Indigenous pathway for doing that.
JH: The majority of Māori land has been stolen and confiscated through the violent process of colonization. Many Māori people are generally displaced from their ancestral lands, living in urban environments. We talk about tangata whenua, people of the land. This refers to the indivisible relationship between Māori and the land. In many ways I see us as the personification of our Atua, who make up our cultural landscapes. We are the land, we are the waterways, we are the deities. It’s an indivisible connection, which comes with obligations to care for and to uplift the lifeforce of all the domains of the environment.
r. Jessica Hutchings (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Huirapa, Gujarat) is a decolonizing researcher in the areas of Māori food sovereignty, food security, cultural and intellectual property rights, and the restoration of the environment through the restoration of Indigenous rights in Aotearoa (New Zealand.) She is actively involved with Te Waka Kai Ora (the National Māori Organics Authority) as a grower and a lead researcher to develop a tikanga-based Indigenous verification and validation system for food and agriculture called Hua Parakore. She is a founding trustee of Papawhakaritorito Charitable Trust, whose founding purpose is to deliver education, research, and practice that uplifts Māori food sovereignty and the Hua Parakore. She lives and grows food with her wife on 5.6 acres of Hua Parakoreverified land north of Wellington. Cultural Survival’s Indig enous Rights Radio Coordinator Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan) recently spoke with Dr. Hutchings.
Honoring Our Soil HUA PARAKORE
D
CS: Hua Parakore is a kaupapa Māori system and framework for growing kai (food), developed by Te Waka Kai Ora. How does it differ from organic farming? What Indigenous values is Hua Parakore based on?
CS: How was Hua Parakore developed? How prominent is it now in Aotearoa?
CS: How do you define food sovereignty and soil sovereignty, and what needs to happen in Aotearoa for Māori to exercise their sovereignty?
Illustration by League of conference.atonJessicaofsentingIllustratorsLiverepre-asummaryatalkgivenbyHutchingssoilsovereigntytheToiTangata
Te Waka Kai Ora started 20 years ago. In the time of the COVID-19 pandemic, the interest in safe and secure food has really peaked in New Zealand for Māori communities, particularly around organic food and around having sover eignty over our foodscapes. We’ve seen a huge increase in the movement. We just had a big online gathering where we had over 700 people interested in Māori soil and food resiliency and discussing Māori-led community-based solutions to restoring Māori food communities.
CS: What is the role of Indigenous women in the food sovereignty movement in Aotearoa?
JH: Te Waka Kai Ora, the National Māori Organics Group, was founded in 2001 with a hui (meeting) of Māori to talk about organics, GMOs, and also the need for some way to be able to recognize Māori food production that was natural and organic but within a Māori cultural context. It’s garnered so much support since being developed; the leaders and the Elders that led this movement, who have now passed, sadly, were charismatic. They had a vision and they had a knowing that the only way to produce food was in the wisdom of our practices and mātauranga (knowledge) of our tupuna (ancestors). They also took a stand on GMOs, pesticides and herbicides, on healthy food for our people, on keeping our traditional medicines free of pesticides and chemicals.
My message would be to stop and to take a breath and think what it might be like to actually move off that capitalist neoliberal system that dominates food systems, and to think about how we can do things differently. There’s hope, and I think the hope is being able to work together with an open and loving heart as an Indigenous person.
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I’m really inspired by what’s going on in different Māori communities around the country. They’re really diverse; some of them are working rurally and some of them in urban spaces, some of them are well funded and some aren’t. But it’s the expression of Māori people returning to grow food for our own people that is a really important turn in practicing Māori food sovereignty. This is a new discourse. For Māori communities, food wasn’t something that you heard us talk about 20 years ago. Now it’s some thing that our people all across the island are talking about.
JH: I often talk about Māori food sovereignty as being able to return to eat our cultural landscapes. And what I mean by that is the ability to be able to consume food within the cultural frameworks from which we come and from which we return, our ancestral frameworks. To eat our cultural landscapes means to have our food stories attached to our cultural landscape, to have thriving populations of species available for cultural harvest, and to be free from the rules and the regulations of the colonizer.
Our Elders always talked about this idea that we eat with a whole Indigenous sense faculty, and that these Indigenous senses are actually our divine senses. One of the impacts of colonization has been the colonization of our senses. For many of us growing up in the cities, we didn’t grow up with lots of the traditional kai that our ancestors would have eaten. What does it mean, then, to engage those divine senses to find that we can return to eat with our Indigenous senses?
Māori soil sovereignty is about elevating the mana of soil. Mana can be translated to mean prestige or authority. Māori soil sovereignty is about elevating the mana, the authority of our deity of soil of Hine-Ahu-One. It’s about speaking up for her, understanding that she’s a silent ally in our food system. It is our job to speak up and to be the voice of soil and to advocate for her. It’s about returning to understand the soil and all of her divinity.
JH: Indigenous women are leading the movement. Indigenous women are planting gardens, sharing their love of gardening and their knowledge and expertise. But they’re also at the forefront of ensuring that biocultural power is returned back to Māori. They are advocating on a whole lot of fronts across a whole lot of political levels. [It’s important] to understand the relationship between Indigenous women as savers of seed, as repositories of knowledge to be handed down. In fact, for the last three or four years, it has only been women doing this work. So, it’s a call out to Indigenous brothers and men.
CS: What is your message to the world regarding our relationships with the land, nature, and our JH:environments?
To learn more about Dr. Jessica Hutchings’ important work, visit: jessicahutchings.org.
ceremonyMayejak in Santa Cruz.
Cristina Coc (Q’EQCHI’ MAYA)
The latest iteration of the Maya struggle started in the mid-1990s as a response to logging concessions for timber extraction on nearly half a million acres that were granted without consent by the Belizean state to third-party busi nesses. While Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) was affirmed as part of the 2007 United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and obliges States and other third parties to consult in good faith and without coercion with Indigenous people to obtain their consent before adopting any measures or starting any development projects that may affect their communities, Maya farmers only learned of the concessions when they were confronted by loggers and heavy equipment in their backyards.
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Belize is part of Maya ancestral territory and emerged as a modern nation-state in the colonial crucible where British and Spanish imperial forces targeted the Maya for expro priation and erasure. Entire communities and geographies across the Caribbean were reconfigured through the imposition of colonial maps, borders, and racial animus, which fractured Indig enous communities. Today, Belize is a multiethnic society and home to a diversity of Peoples, including three Mayan linguistic groups: the Qʼeqchiʼ, Mopan, and Yucatec. The Qʼeqchi’ and Mopan live primarily in Toledo District, which is the southernmost district of Belize and where 41 Maya communities reside. Since contact, the Maya have been engaged in a pro longed fight to defend their territories, relations, and selfdetermined futures. Traditionally, the Maya have held lands in common and derive individual rights of use from the community through collective process. Central to this com munal and complex land tenure system are the alcaldes, a critical element of customary Maya governance that existed prior to contact and has been reconfigured over the centuries. The alcaldes of Toledo District, which are internal to rural Qʼeqchi’ and Mopan villages across southern Belize, manage land use and boundary harmoniza tion processes, and facilitate democracy, conflict resolution, and community cohesion. An economy of reciprocity lies at the heart of Maya social relations, practice of participatory governance, and connections to territory. Despite being targets of empire and state authority, the Maya have been able to maintain a certain degree of relative autonomy and retain their com munal approaches to holding and stewarding land, which is categorically different than claiming individual owner ship of private property. Amidst this resilience and struggle against the ongoing aftermath of colonialism, the alcaldes and their communal lands continue to face constant threats, mainly in the form of State-sponsored development or purported environmental conservation projects.
THE STRUGGLE TO IMPLEMENT MAYA LAND RIGHTS IN BELIZE
All photos by Tony Rath.
Ever since the Maya won rights to their land in 2015, the State has continued to violate FPIC protocols; encroach on Maya lands; denigrate Maya activists and land defenders; abscond from its duty to consult in good faith; and under mine the alcaldes. The combative and enduring denials of Maya land rights, customary governance, and violations of FPIC on the part of the Belizean government prompts two pressing questions regarding the State’s commitment to human rights and Indigenous Peoples: first, what is preventing the government from meaningfully recognizing Maya land rights and acting in good faith with respect to FPIC? And second, what motivates the State’s decision to habitually disregard the rights, governance system, alcaldes, and even human ity of Maya communities and land defenders? From the beginning of the most recent land rights struggle in the 1990s, Maya his torical continuity and presence on their lands has either been overlooked or refuted by gov ernment officials. When Maya communities have appeared in court to assert their land rights, the State has called into question the legitimacy and acumen of the Maya, as well as insultingly trying to argue that the Maya of Toledo District are not Indigenous to Belize. Despite both the 2015 ruling and the more obvious fact that the Maya communities fully understand the deep connections they have with their ancestral territories, they continue to have to fend off State-sanctioned land grabs and persistent attacks on their customary governance system. State officials routinely mobilize a discourse of nationalism to scapegoat the Maya as “irrational,” “antidevelopment,” and “greedy” actors. Derisive charges like these are a common strategy deployed by authoritarian states against Indigenous Peoples across the globe. At the center of the Maya struggle is the ambition to transform Belize into a country more accepting and respect ful of Indigenous modes of organizing and relationships with territory. Their struggle is not unlike that of the Zapatis tas of southern Mexico, predominantly Maya themselves, who have expressed a desire to build “a world in which many worlds fit.” Similarly, for the Qʼeqchi’ and Mopan com munities of Toledo District, the Maya are neither seeking to abolish nor secede from Belize, but rather to have their ways of being recognized so Maya Peoples can live peace fully in a place where their land rights and relations, custom ary governance system, and self-determination are equally respected and can be practiced freely without fear of Statesanctioned repression, reprisal, or retaliation. The fruition of such an inclusive and just future for Belize remains to be seen.
Over the last 20 years, Maya villagers and movement leaders have been forced into the courts at every level. The contentious conflict between the State and Maya culminated in a watershed decision issued by the Caribbean Court of Justice in 2015, which asserted Maya villages hold title to their traditional lands. The Court’s ruling––a first in the Caribbean regarding Indigenous land rights being acknowl edged by an international court––decrees that traditional Maya notions of communal land ownership are equivalent to the Western concepts of private property and land ownership found in the Belizean constitution.
Around the same time that the Court rendered its ruling in favor of Maya communities, in June 2015, I was was arrested along with 12 other Maya land defenders from the village of Santa Cruz. Maya residents were protecting a heritage site, preventing unauthorized settle ment on sacred grounds, and adjudicating the situation via customary governance. The alcaldes, who are officially recognized as lower court magistrates, intervened only after requesting and subsequently being denied assistance from the State. The government used the incident as a pretext to paint the Maya as a “violent mob,” stoke divisive Black-Indigenous relations, and arrest residents of Santa Cruz in the quiet of night.
The 2015 ruling also led to the formation of the Toledo Maya Land Rights Commission. The Commission is a gov ernment entity legally bound to see the court order through to its completion via working in good faith with the Maya communities, as well as the Maya Leaders Alliance and Toledo Alcaldes Association, each of which were appellants in the 2015 court case. The Toledo Alcaldes Association is a group of 78 selected leaders who represent the 39 Maya com munities of Toledo District. The role of the Toledo Maya Land Rights Commission is to contribute to the implemen tation of the order. However, it has retained a disdainful if not antagonistic view of the Maya communities, and in particular, the Toledo Alcaldes Association—a critical element of customary Maya governance and main representative body of the Maya people in the region.
— Cristina Coc (Q’eqchi’ Maya) is Executive Director of the Julian Cho Society. Harvesting corn in the milpa in Laguna.
The significance of the arrests was highlighted by then-UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Victoria Tauli-Corpuz, who, in an international statement, noted that the State’s behavior displayed “trou bling disregard” for the Maya’s rights. She went on to stress that “the current situation of conflict and mistrust cannot be allowed to persist.” After approximately a year of legal ap pearances, court fees, and prevarication on the part of the government, the charges against the Maya activists were dropped in their entirety. Criminalization, vilification, and attempts to slander or disappear Indigenous activists and environmental defenders continue to be the preferred methods of suppression of numerous postcolonial govern ments across Latin America and the Caribbean.
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In 2009, a more imminent threat to the community emerged: gold mining. An Australian mining company, Azumah Resources Limited, was granted a concession by the government of Ghana giving them more than 2,000
RESCUING
Wildlife like crocodiles, tortoises, hedgehogs, and hares, which were once common, have virtually disappeared, and medicinal herbs that were found in the sacred groves and natural sites and collected by traditional healers for their remedies were no longer available.
anchara is a small community in the Lawra district located in the savanna in northern Ghana. It has a population of about 500 inhabitants, who are basically small-scale farmers belonging to the Dagara Tribe. It is also a pilot community for testing the con cept of endogenous development as a model for sustain able community development. Endogenous development is a development process that builds on the worldviews, Traditional Knowledge systems, and natural resources of the community, while also drawing on appropriate external knowledge. It seeks to reflect the material, socio-cultural, and spiritual well being of communities and contributes to building resilient communities.
T
We also consider these customary laws and practices as Indigenous methods for biodiversity conservation and responsible for sustaining native plant and animal species. In 2006, the Center for Indigenous Knowledge and Organisational Development carried out Community Institutional and Resources Mapping, by which we became more conscious of the presence and quality of the available natural, cultural, physical, human, and spiritual resources in the Tanchara community. Community mapping is a tool developed by the Center to help communities identify and appreciate their natural resources as vital components for endogenous development. We documented and assessed about 30 sacred groves and natural sites in the community and found that they were in rapid decline. A number of sacred groves were decreasing in size, and certain culturally significant plant species were becoming locally extinct.
Bernard Guri (DAGARA)
Sacred groves and natural sites are remnants of natural forests that have been preserved for spiritual and other purposes. The Tanchara community have always had customary laws and practices, passed on for generations through oral traditions, that govern these sacred groves.
We, the Tanchara community, held several community forums to reflect on this situation. Community members expressed concern about the degradation of the sacred groves and natural sites, as it had serious implications for their spiritual practices, wildlife conservation, and general well being. In 2007, the Center did further studies to docu ment and assess the health of the sacred groves and natural sites in the Tanchara community, including a photo docu mentation. From the studies, we identified the need to en gage the community to initiate a process to conserve and expand their sacred groves and natural sites as a biodiver sity conservation and endogenous development strategy.
Photos by Jonas Guri.
ThroughGOLDCOMMUNITYTANCHARALANDSFROMMININGBioculturalCommunityProtocols Elders thedeliberatingmeetingoncommunity biocultural protocol.
— Bernard Guri (Dagara) is Executive Director of the Center for Indigenous Knowledge and Organizational Development in Accra, Ghana.
The galamsey miners are young men and women from other parts of Ghana who had travelled to Tanchara with the hope of doing illegal mining in the community. In February 2021, a galamsey gang was spotted by commu nity members with tools and equipment for the purpose of engaging in illegal mining. Empowered by their protocol and community leaders, the Tanchara community accosted them. The group, totalling 18, bolted from the community, leaving behind their motor bikes and various digging tools and mining equipment. The community impounded these tools and equipment and reported to the Chief and Elders at the palace. The Chief and Elders referred them to report officially to the police, as the matter was criminal and beyond their jurisdiction as Traditional rulers.
Following official legal procedure, eight of the illegal miners were arraigned before the circuit court in Lawra on February 15, 2021. The miners were charged with attempted mining without a license, contrary to section 18 of the Criminal Offence Act 1960 and the Minerals and Mining Act 206. The illegal miners hired a lawyer to defend them in court. The community, however, did not have the funds nor the capacity to hire a lawyer. In fact, the case was called with a day’s notice to the community. The Center was informed only on the day of the hearing by the com munity and was not able to be present. At the end of the hearing, the community had the shock of their lives when the judge ruled that there was not sufficient evidence to convict the illegal miners. The court further ordered that the tools, equipment, and motor bikes be returned to the miners, who were subsequently released with a warning never to return to Tanchara with any intention of prospecting or engaging in illegal mining. The question is, is this justice?
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 23 square kilometers of the upper west region, which includes the Tanchara community, for gold prospecting and mining. This was done without any consultation with the communi ties that would be directly affected by the mining operations. Although the activities of Azumah Resources Ltd., at that time, were restricted to community entries and prospecting, they had the right to apply for mining permits in the area that would allow surface mining. The company had final ised all the technical prospecting work and was gearing up to start full mining operations by 2012, affecting eight communities in the region—all without consulting with theWithcommunities.supportfrom KASA (a multi-donor funding facility in Ghana), the Center carried out research into the possible effects of gold mining on the sacred groves in particular and the well being of affected communities in general using the Community Health Impact Assessment Tool. This assessment brought to the fore negative impacts on the health, physical infrastructure, environmental, cultural, social, and spiritual well being of the community. Based on the findings, we alerted the communities (and especially Tanchara community) on this more serious threat to their sacred groves and natural sites and well being in general through awareness creation forums in Tanchara. In response, the Tingan Sob (Earth Priest) and all his sectional assistants in Tanchara held a meeting in 2009 and prepared a written note with thumb printed signature in which they requested the Center to make a demand to government authorities to stop the gold mining company from destroying their sa cred groves and natural sites. With this mandate, the Center proposed to the commu nity to consider developing a Biocultural Community Proto col as a legal tool for asserting their right of Free, Prior and Informed Consent and engagement in the design of the mining and any other activities that may lead to degrada tion of their sacred groves and natural sites and negatively affect their well being. With support from Compas Africa, we facilitated a process in the community leading to the development of a Biocultural Community Protocol as a tool to protect their land from mining. To secure legitimacy, we facilitated a workshop at which the Tanchara community presented their Biocultural Community Protocol and demands to the Australian mining company and other stakeholders, including the regional administration from the regional capital. The Center organized another workshop at the district level for the community to present the protocol to the Paramount Chief of the Lawra Traditional Area and members of the Lawra Traditional Council. The immediate outcome was that the Paramount Chief ordered the Chief and Elders of Tanchara to immediately dismiss all illegal miners who were attracted by the ongoing prospecting in the area, to gether with all their mining equipment. Azumah Resources Ltd., recognizing the level of resistance from the community and the level of recognition the community had garnered through the Biocultural Community Protocol process, thought it wise to leave the community for good. Seeing that the big time Australian mining company with official prospecting rights from the government had left, a host of small galamsey (illegal small-scale gold min ers) emerged to take advantage of the vacuum created.
Community meetings in Tanchara, Ghana.
SECURING INDIGENOUS LAND RIGHTS IN NEPAL
The State has devised many laws making it difficult for In digenous Peoples to own or control their lands, territories, and resources. The government systematically seized col lective ancestral lands through Royal Decrees during the King’s authoritarian ruling period, and later by nationaliz ing lands through state legislations. Today, Nepal is home to many Indigenous land rights activists who are tirelessly working to secure title and access to Indigenous lands. Nanda Kandangwa (LIMBU)
Nanda Kandangwa communityChiyabari forest in Kamalamai, Bagmati, Nepal, on the way to Sindhuli Kathmandu.from Photo by Dev Kumar Sunuwar.
“It is enshrined in the Constitution that each community has the right to preserve and protect their culture and heritage, which includes Indigenous Peoples. The Local Government Conduction Act (2017) states that local gov ernments have the right to document community, govern ment, and public property. This provision can also be used in the fight for the rights of Indigenous people because Indigenous Peoples have community lands. The Limbo Peoples are trying to secure land rights and are involved in the documentation of lands.
ndigenous Peoples in Nepal comprise 35.8 percent of the total population but are underrepresented in State structures. In general, Indigenous Peoples in Nepal are not consulted on laws, policies, or development projects that have massive impacts on them. Despite Nepal being party to ILO Convention No. 169 and the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which provide special rights to Indigenous Peoples to their lands, territories, and natural resources, many of Nepal’s institu tions are against these international human rights provisions.
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Dev Kumar Sunuwar (KOĨTS-SUNUWAR, CS STAFF)
“The States of Limbu and Nepal drafted a treaty conferring that Limbu Indigenous Peoples will always be autonomous. At Mukumlung [a sacred site located on Limbu ancestral lands], we opposed the Hinduization of the area, stopping the construction of a cable car and various buildings, as well as declaring that the site is ancestral land and a sacred site of the Limbu Peoples. Then, we started to document the ancestral land.
I
“Indigenous Peoples in Nepal face many issues, especially in the area of hydropower, where dams are being con structed on Indigenous territories. Indigenous people are raising their voices and are waging struggles for the pro tection and preservation of their lands. I have specialized in land rights issues for many years and have initiated campaigns for titling and land reclamation, which is an ongoing process.
Nanda Kandangwa is from the eastern part of Nepal. He is the Coordinator of Limbu Facilitation Group, a group working for the land rights of Limbo communities. He is also an Indigenous rights activist and founding chair of Kirat Yakthung Chumlung, the repre sentative umbrella organization of Limbu Indigenous Nationalities, and a founding member of the National Federation of Indigenous Nationalities, a federation of all Indigenous Peoples’ organizations in Nepal. Kandangwa has authored several articles on Indig enous Peoples’ rights related to land, territories, and resources, and how Indigenous Peoples have been displaced and marginalized in the name of development projects, conservation, and national parks. He has also written about Indigenous women’s land rights issues for online and print publications. He has been active in the land claims and collective land titlement movement of Limbu Indigenous nationalities for about a decade.
Ritu Thapa
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“Our land and territory is related to our identity, culture, and our relationships. We got our land from our ancestors. It’s our duty to hand it over to our new generation in a better way. Nowadays, in the name of conservation and development, they are taking Indigenous lands. We have to be aware of our legal rights and we should know about success stories so that the people can be motivated to fight against injustices. There should be unity among the various Peoples. We should strengthen our own institutions so that they can continue their work, and it should be recognized by government agencies so that if there is a dispute within our community, it can be resolved by our own institutions. It’s important for us to have our own institutions so that we can use them to reclaim our rights.”
“A signature campaign is being done now to file an application in the local government office to decide whether or not it belongs to the Limbu. If it is decided that the land belongs to us, Indigenous people will be validated and can send the documentation record to the land offices in the districts and provincial government offices. Once that happens, no one will be able to do activities in that area without permission or without the Free, Prior and Informed Consent of Limbu Peoples. That is an example of reclaiming ancestral land in our areas.
Ritu Thapa is an advocate and Indigenous women’s rights activist specializing in human rights. She has a degree from the University of Pune, India, and recently completed the Human Rights Advocate Program at Columbia University in New York. She is a founding member and current treasurer of the Indigenous Women Legal Awareness Group, estab lished in the year 2000, which provides free legal aid to Indigenous and marginalized groups, especially women and young girls, in Nepal. Since 2016, Thapa has also been active in securing the rights of Indigenous communities in the Tanahu district who have been impacted by hydro power projects undertaken in their land and territories without their Free, Prior and Informed Consent. “We are mostly in remote areas and we are not aware of our right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent, the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, or ILO Convention 169. We are not in decision-making roles. People know that Nepali law protects individual rights and that they can buy and sell their land, but they are not aware of their collective rights. So, we are organizing and working on land rights issues. We are making people aware of their access to land and their rights and their responsibilities. People are also protesting and trying to protect their ancestral land. In the Tanahu district, we had 37 house holds, and now 23 [more], whose land is going to be submerged by hydropower. We have supported them in filing complaints.
“A recent petition was filed by the Baram Indigenous Peoples, and a court ruled that the Baram Indigenous Peoples should have their autonomous land and that it should be protected by their community and the govern ment, and the government should make laws and policies for their department in accordance. This is a good example regarding Indigenous lands.
“We provide free legal services and organize legal awareness programs. People need to know how they can protect their rights and about legal procedures, not to blindly follow whatever the government authorities say to them. When we went to my home area in the Tanahu district and held a legal awareness program for Indigenous women, we came to know about this hydro project. The Nepali government had already approved it and locals were not properly informed. They were not called for consultation. Some people were threatened with losing their lands; others were offered some compensation and took the money. Thirty-seven households are still fighting for their rights and we are their legal advisors supporting them. In this way, we can reclaim our land by following in ternational legal processes and laws.
Ritu Thapa (MAGAR)
“The biggest obstacle for Indigenous Peoples for secur ing the land rights in Nepal is Indigenous people not being aware about their rights to land. Indigenous Peoples are divided into various parties with their own visions and political ideologies. This is a great obstacle for Indigenous people in the land rights movement because the laws are not made in line with international laws. But, we have made the strategic decision to follow legal procedure so the government cannot deny the claims of Indigenous Peoples. Coordinating the movements is difficult because the land rights movement is a very complex issue and different people have different visions and perspectives. We need to bring them to one place, and that may take a long time.”
ndigenous Peoples in Costa Rica endure a constant struggle to maintain and recover their territories, threatened by ranching interests and the complicity of the State. In Costa Rica, eight Indigenous nations living in 24 territorial regions have been facing an intensified struggle for the recovery of their territo ries. Since the land reclamation process was initiated more than 12 years ago by the Bribri Peoples of Salitre, there has been an increase in violence and discrimination towards Indigenous Peoples, and even assassinations, such as that of Bribri leader Sergio Rojas from Salitre in March 2019, and Jehry Riveras Rivera, Brörán leader, in February 2020.
Rojas was one of the main promoters of land recovery. The National Front of Indigenous Peoples (FRENAPI) is the only autonomous Indigenous movement in Costa Rica. With representation from five of the eight Indigenous Peoples in Costa Rica, they convene National Assemblies twice a year. Since 1994, FRENAPI has worked in defense of Indigenous lands, human rights, Indigenous legislation, and the Indigenous agenda. In 2019, with the support of Keepers of the Earth Fund, FRENAPI held the first National Indigenous Congress to define actions after the murders of Rojas and Rivera.
In August 2010, the Indigenous Autonomy Law had been languishing in the Legislative Assembly for nearly 20 years. The International Day of Indigenous Peoples was approaching, and many members of FRENAPI were tired of feeling the constant contempt from the State. They went to the assembly office in San Jose to demand a response. On August 10, 2010, after being forcibly removed from the Legislative Assembly in the middle of the night, members of FRENAPI opted for direct action. Rojas began the land recovery process in Salitre in 2010 and became an Indigenous rights leader. He visited all the territories, holding meetings and raising awareness about Indigenous rights under national and international law. FRENAPI also took leadership and became allies with organizations, associations, and national mechanisms. Rojas helped each community to create their own organizations dedicated to the land recovery process.
To date, the Bribri Peoples of Salitre have recovered 49 farms and up to 80 percent of their ancestral territory, setting an example for other communities like the Bribri Peoples of Cabarga, the Brörán Peoples of Térraba, the Cabécar Peoples of China Kicha, and the Maleko Peoples of Guatuso of Alajuela. Commenting on this experience, Clarita Quiel Torres (Bribri) of the Nima Dikok Dodne clan and member of FRENAPI, says, “We began the recovery of our territories in Cabarga. FRENAPI arrived in the terri tory when we made the first recovery and supported us throughout, speaking with the public security forces when a threat arose. I continued to walk with them, learning a FRENAPI members in solidarity with Sergio Rojas.
The Congress defined an agenda to strengthen territorial recoveries, the Indigenous autonomy movement, and strategic alliances, recognizing that in this movement, “women lead courageously following the strength of their hearts and the teachings of our Elders. The benefits are for the communities as collectives due to the spirituality and organization of the Indigenous Peoples.”
(MAYA MAM, CS STAFF) and Guadalupe Pastrana (NAHUA, CS STAFF)
Reclaiming Indigenous Lands in Costa Rica
26 | www.cs.org KOEF GRANT PARTNER SPOTLIGHT
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FRENAPINatiGarcia
Photo courtesy of FRENAPI.
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 27 little about our rights as Indigenous Peoples. As of now we have reclaimed six areas in Palmira, and we can say that Cabarga is no longer a non-Indigenous town and every thing is now in the hands of Bribri Peoples. Sergio oriented me about laws in favor of our rights. This is something very important and we have received a lot of help from FRENAPI. The struggle of recuperators is always difficult.”
The lands being recovered historically belonged to Indigenous Peoples and were stolen through all manner of deceit. In China Kicha, the struggle has been long and has gone through stages before achieving territorial recov ery. The China Kicha community of the Cabécar Peoples was legally recognized in 1956 when an executive decree of the government declared the formation of the Indig enous territory with an area greater than 400 acres. However, in 1982, the government annulled the decree, arguing that the Cabécar population of that area had dispersed and migrated to other places. In 2001, the government restored the territory with a measure of just 110 acres. But in reality, it did not mean that the Cabécar people could regain con trol of those lands. Today, after the recovery process, they have managed to reclaim some 70 percent of their territory.
Fernández Zuñiga (Cabécar), 22, of the Kabeilöwak clan, has been one of the young women leading the recovery process. “Young people have understood that the best way to fight is not silence, that you have to raise your voice to be able to achieve something. If we hadn’t done that, if the first people hadn’t taken the risk of getting in volved in this recovery, maybe we would have already had to leave here. If something was not done at that time, this Cabécar town would [have disappeared],” she says. In China Kicha, 90 percent of the recovered lands have been burned by people who oppose their struggle. Adriana Fernandez Zuñiga (Cabécar) says that for women it is “even more complicated, because there are many of us who have a home, are mothers, and also study. So we have to give many things up to focus on the recovery, since we know that recovery is something that will later serve the well being of the people. And it is difficult because we are thinking about the family, we have children at home. From the moment that there are people who want to kill you or who threaten you for the simple fact of being Indigenous, you start thinking about the children.“
L-R: Members of FRENAPI: Virginia Lezcano Ortiz (Brörán) and Clarita Quiel Torres ZuñigaAdriana(Bribri);Fernández(Cabécar) and Doris Ríos Ríos (Ngäbe).MontesumaLuisa(Cabécar);Bejarano
Photos by Nati Garcia.
Women and young people have been the main promoters of thisDoriscause.Ríos
Ríos (Cabécar) from the China Kicha commu nity is a land defender and member of FRENAPI. She was one of the women at the forefront of the process of recov ering her territory. “It was not only a decree that repealed China Kicha, but it was the intention to exterminate the Indigenous population of China Kicha,” she says. “With that decree, I always say that it was like a homicide, because many things at that time were repealed. Many people migrated from the territory, many people were dispossessed of their land, of their things. Imagine now when the repeal passes and China Kicha is totally unprotected from what was Indigenous territory. That brought us the loss of our language, our culture, and a lot of [other] things.”
She continues, “In 2011 we began to hear about the land recovery process carried out by the brothers of the Salitre Territory led by Sergio Rojas. We began to see there was a need to survive, to exist, because things were really precarious here; that is, seeing young people leave their homes because there were no possibilities, husbands who went to look for work abroad, companions struggling with their children. We saw everything. We began to meet to see how far Salitre’s territory was, and in 2018 [we recovered ourAdrianalands].”
Although the State denounces the violence experienced by the land activists, the attacks are not being investigated or prosecuted. Faced with this wave of violence, the Costa Rican State is responsible for its complicity with the aggres sors and for its inaction in the face of events that put the lives of men, women, and children of the town at risk. “All this violence and racism would disintegrate [if they implemented the law]. The government needs to return the land to us to do its role of compensating and legally evicting people,” says Ríos Ríos.
The territorial recovery processes have gone through stages of learning, pain, joy, and love, where many people continue to fight and resist. The seeds that Rojas planted have sprouted into strong, rooted, resilient communities, as expressed by Pablo Sivar Sivar (Brörán) from Térraba and member of FRENAPI: “The fight for Indigenous rights is for the return of our lands, that they remove those politi cians who are on Indigenous lands. As Indigenous Peoples, we have the last forests of this country. As Indigenous Peoples, we have the waters that still remain.”
28 | www.cs.org STAFF SPOTLIGHT
Xol says that due to social taboos, it was very difficult for his mother to accept that he is gay. “I educated her on what [the 2SLGBTQIA+] world is like and told her that being gay was not something new, but that it was hidden through religion and other issues.” As the years passed, Xol’s mom began to understand more about his identity and she gave him advice that helped him significantly. “My mother told me, ‘Regardless of who you like, it is important that the person you meet respects you, loves you, and never hits you,” he says, adding, “I admire my mother a lot. It makes me emotional to talk about her because she is a wonderful woman.”
Although Xol is proud of his roots, he says he always wanted to leave Guatemala to explore the world and learn from it. During his travels to remote areas of Panama, he witnessed
PABLO XOL Indigenous communities taking great care of nature, and saw that the balance lies in being aware that we are all part of the land. “I love learning about different Indigenous cultures. Knowing my Maya cultural origins allows me to connect with my Nahual (guardian spirit) and project myself through our ancestral knowledge.” As Xol began his studies and his life in design, he faced a personal challenge: coming to terms with his gay identity. In his teens, he hadn’t quite figured out who he was, and when he did know, he was hesitant to tell his mom. “I am an only child and I was living a double life, [caught between] pretending that nothing was happening or telling her and being transparent with her. I think I made the best decision to tell her who I am and what I feel, and ultimately it’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Xol says that attitudes in Central America toward the 2SLG BTQIA+ community are changing, and that more diverse identities and sexual preferences are becoming accepted. “The new generations have more open minds. Many times families do not talk about it, although previously within our cultures, being Indigenous and having a sexual preference other than hetero sexuality was something quite normal. With the influence of colonizer religions it became something difficult to manage. However, we should not be afraid to talk about it,” he says.
On joining Cultural Survival, Xol says that it is a great and unexpected opportunity and that he is excited to support many people through his work and talents, especially Indigenous youth and children. As a person who has overcome many chal lenges, he says, “The key is to accept and love yourself. I am a person who makes mistakes, but I am satisfied with what I have accomplished. We must be aware of who we are and promote our cultures. We should be proud of who we are.”
During his early professional years, Xol collaborated with several clothing companies in Guatemala that work with brands from the United States. Through these experiences, he learned how to apply new technologies to the process of developing clothing and apparel, which gave him the opportunity to travel throughout Central America educating companies about the world of clothing. On one occasion, he visited a company in Panama, who were so impressed that they offered him a job. That was 12 years ago, and Xol says he believes it was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
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“I'm excited to support many people through my work and talents—especially Indigenous youth and children. The key is to accept and love yourself. We must be aware of who we are and promote our cultures. We should be proud of who we are.”
Photo by Pablo Xol.
Diana Pastor (MAYA K’ICHE’, CS STAFF) he Cultural Survival family continues to grow as we welcome Pablo Xol (Maya Q’eqchi’) from Guatemala in the role of Design and Marketing Associate. Xol’s life has always been in motion. As a child, he moved from Cahabón, Alta Verapaz to Guatemala City to live with his mother, who worked hard to give him a head start in life. He recalls, “My love for art and design started as a child when I was 9 or 10 years old. At 19, I decided to study fashion design after having jumped from two careers in law and graphic design. I liked fashion design a lot, and it is where I have been able to grow and go far.”
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Being a Light in the World ELISEO RAMIREZ OF KHADI OAXACA and their communities, threatening their livelihoods and economic stability. “The pandemic, it was a hard blow,” says Ramirez. “A year ago, I truly thought that our collective was going to close down forever because our sales in the months of April and May fell to zero.” But, with help from some friends and the power of social media, the collective has managed to stay afloat during uncertain times and sales are steadily beginning to increase again. These sales are vital to the collective not only from a financial standpoint, but also because they represent the apprecia tion that the wider public has for the art. “ It really gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment,” Ramirez says. “It makes me emotional because it takes us so many hours to make a product, and in the end someone appreciates it. It fills me with joy. Honestly, it fills me with happiness and it also motivates me to continue on with this project.” Ramirez draws inspiration from his family and public support for his work, and is motivated by the wisdom of his ancestors and the interest that his children show in the artistic process. “Khadi is everything to me,” he says. “Helping peo ple is the best and it’s what I most enjoy doing. I do not want fame or wealth for myself, I want to share any achievements with all of the people that are involved.”
Eliseo Ramirez with a naturally dyed weaving. Indigo and oak bark are used as dyes.
The Cultural Survival Bazaars are annual celebrations of Indigenous arts, music, and cultures from around the world. All in-person Cultural Survival Bazaars in 2022 are still postponed due to the pandemic. We have missed the in-person Bazaars and will soon announce the dates for the July 2023 Ba zaar season. We hope to be together soon, safely, and in celebration of Indigenous art. Until then, please support and buy directly from our Bazaar artists by visiting our directory of artists at bazaar.cs.org.
Ramirez says, “We grow [cotton] without any pesticides or herbicides on the coast here in our state of Oaxaca. We also work with natural dyes like indigo, which is obtained from the community of Santiago Niltepec. We use oak bark; this is a very important material. We use the log for fire wood and remove the bark and use it for dyes.” Ramirez aims to be a “light in the world,” exchanging knowledge freely with no envy or resentment and working in harmony with the natural world. “When I [talk] about being the light in the world, I also [mean] that we do not pollute the earth, we do not pollute the water,” he says. The collective has become an integral part of the local community, creating jobs so that people are not forced to migrate away from their homes in order to earn a living. The pandemic has negatively impacted members of the collective
Cultural Survival Quarterly September 2022 | 29 BAZAAR ARTIST SPOTLIGHT E liseo Ramirez (Zapotec) was 23 when he decided to make a concerted effort to help revitalize his Zapotec culture. As an Indig enous artist and cooperative leader living in Oaxaca, Mexico, he keeps his culture alive through his business, Khadi Oaxaca, a collective of over 450 local families and artisans weaving intricate designs and cre ating beautiful works of art, and through weaving workshops, where cultural knowl edge is passed down from generation to generation. “Spinning is something super beautiful and, as a young man, I love that there are so many young people interested in it. For example, a grandmother learned years ago, then she teaches her daughter, then the daughter teaches the grand daughter,” Ramirez says. “All this wisdom is being transmitted from generation to generation. It makes me feel as though we can shelter and help one another and create a coexistence of knowledge in theEveryoneworld.” involved puts their heart and soul into their work, and the collective works hard to ensure that the art is made with natural materials in a sustainable way that causes no harm to the environment.
Photos courtesy of Khadi Oaxaca.
Thank you! #culturalsurvival50 #1972 #CS50 CELEBRATING 50 YEARS Donate online at cs.org/donate | Call us at 617.441.5400 x18 Creating lasting change takes decades of commitment, service, resources, relationships, and allyship. Celebrate this major milestone with us! Thank you for being part of the Indigenous rights movement and the Cultural Survival family. of advocating for Indigenous Peoples’ Rights!
