Teena Clipston Editor-in-Chief & Publisher Saving Earth Magazine
WELCOME TO OUR SUMMER 2021 EDITION of Saving Earth Magazine. In this issue, we take a look at a variety of people and communities around the world. It is well understood that nature and our environment affect human health in a positive way. I am not only referring to the oxygen with which trees and plants provide us, but also its impact on our state of mind. Whenever we think of vacation time, we are drawn to beaches, hikes in the mountains, camping in the forests, fishing in streams, the list goes on. Nature makes us feel good. It has also been scientifically proven to enhance our health.
near and far. In this edition, we speak with Indigenous and non-Indigenous protesters, with men, women, with the young, and the old. They share a passion for the old-growth trees of Fairy Creek and we hope you find their insights as fascinating as we do.
We also take a look at many other types of communities, the struggles of humans, and the triumphs of humans. It is through others that we learn and heal. An understanding of others brings us closer together. Acceptance, peace, and harmony—isn’t that what we all seek for ourselves, our families, our communities?
“We celebrate the Fairy Creek Forest Defenders who are putting their lives on hold and risking arrest to save oldgrowth forests...”
What happens if we slowly start to take nature away, making it inaccessible, polluting it, or destroying it? Not only does that affect the air we breathe and the ecosystems we depend on, but also, our joy. Disconnecting from nature is forgetting who we are. This is detrimental to all people and communities. Nature is a part of us just as we are a part of it. We live as part of a delicate, yet robust, ecosystem that includes all plants and animals on the planet.
In this edition, we celebrate the Fairy Creek Blockade Forest Defenders, who are putting their lives on hold and risking arrest to save old-growth forests. These trees are not renewable. Many are well over 1,000 years old. They, and the rainforest they thrive in, cannot just be replaced with a monocrop of saplings. The biodiversity contained in these forests cannot just pack up and move on. These trees give homes to a wealth of wildlife species, some of which, like the Western screech owls, Northern Goshawk, and Northern Red-legged frogs, are endangered. They are also home to other plants, insects, and fungi, all important parts of an ecosystem. They keep the land cool and safe from fires. They are a place of spiritual awakening, of joy, health, and community. These magnificent living beings offer something different and meaningful to everyone. And in the fight against climate change, as vital carbon sequesters, it is shameful that the Provincial government thinks it is acceptable to cut these ancient giants down, while trying to sell us on a carbon tax. Hypocrisy lies in the fact that on one hand the government tries to look green and ethical by creating a carbon tax, but all the while, they are actually allowing the cutting of some of our biggest defenders against global warming.
The last stand in Fairy Creek, which takes place on unceded First Nations territory, is an issue of grave importance to all of us. Protesters standing to protect these old-growth trees are diverse and come from
In speaking about communities, people, and the struggles of humankind, I open up in this edition with my own story of how the opioid crisis in British Columbia has hit home. The opioid crisis has affected so many families in BC and across Canada and the United States. There have been more than 7,000 deaths in BC alone since the provincial health crisis was declared in 2016. Addiction is not something that needs to be kept hidden or shamed, but instead, individuals with substance abuse disorder have something to teach us about how we operate as a society, how we treat our most vulnerable, and how we treat those of us with inconsolable pain. No matter how far we think we are from the crisis, it affects us collectively.
I am pleased to announce that Saving Earth Magazine has expanded to include a kids’ edition aimed at educating and inspiring kids aged 8 to 12. Today’s kids know our planet faces important challenges, and they know the environment needs our help. Real science and solutions around climate change and environmental issues can be tricky to understand, and even harder to put into action for adults, so we decided it was time to put our dedicated team of experts and teachers to work creating something for the kids, too. Our mission, through the kids’ magazine, is to prepare the youth of today for a green tomorrow. If you wish to order a copy of the kids’ edition or would like more information, visit the new Saving Earth for Kids website at www.savingearth4kids.com.
Our fall edition of Saving Earth Magazine will be dedicated to green businesses and environmental organizations. If you or your organization has something to share, I encourage you to contact me at teena@savingearthmagazine.com.
Wishing you all the very best,
Teena ClipstonPUBLISHED BY SAVING EARTH
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Teena Clipston
SENIOR EDITOR
Cassie Pearse
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Jessica Kirby
GRAPHIC DESIGN
Cassandra Redding
CONTRIBUTORS
Kayla Bruce, Brittany Bruce, Roslyne Buchanan, Teena Clipston, Sergio Izquierdo, Jan Lee, Ingrith León, Shayne Meechan, Dawna Mueller, Cordelia Newlin de Rojas, Cassie Pearse, Mackai Sharp, Robin Strong, David Suzuki, Aurora Tejeida, Kay Thellot, Alisha Postma
PRINTING
Royal Printers
DISTRIBUTION
Magazines Canada & Royal Printers
COVER PHOTO
Mackai Sharp
Saving Earth Magazine has made every effort to make sure that its content is accurate on the date of publication. The opinions expressed in the articles are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher or editor. Information contained in the magazine has been obtained by the authors from sources believed to be reliable. You may email us at Saving Earth Magazine for source information. Saving Earth Magazine, its publisher, editor, and its authors are not responsible for any errors, omissions, or claims for damages, and accept no liability for any loss or damage of any kind. The published material, advertising, advertorials, editorials, and all other content is published in good faith.
©Copyright 2021 Saving Earth. All rights reserved. Saving Earth Magazine is fully protected by copyright law and nothing herein can be reproduced wholly or in part without written consent.
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Library and Archives Canada, Government of Canada
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Fairy creek: the last stand
Photography by dawna mueller
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the new war in the woods
teena clipston
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fairy
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getting
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THE
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Above: old-growth forests near Eden currently slated for logging. Top Right: Forest Defenders at Fairy Creek standing strong. Bottom Right: SixtyEight year old Val Embree was the first person to be arrested once the RCMP started enforcing the injunction on May 18, at Caycuse Camp.
My name is William Jones of the Pacheedaht First Nation. I'm an 80-year-old elder there. I'm here to spread the word of saving what's left of the old growth. The old growth is the untouched original virgin timber that has never been logged. And there is very little of it left, just remnants of our ancient forests.
I first got involved with the Fairy Lake protection people in about the middle of August last year, and I have been involved ever since. It's about stopping the logging in the old-growth we know that Teal-Jones owns and is licensed to log in that area. They are currently taking legal action to stop us from protecting the old-growth that they want to destroy. It’s a loggerhead situation that our government doesn't seem to want to address. They [the government] actually talk to the forest logging people but won’t talk to the people who are concerned about saving the old-growth in the Fairy Creek area or the
Left: Paachedaht First Nation Elder Bill Jones and Paachedaht Hereditary Chief Victor Peter. ‘Now is not the time to stand down!’, says Elder Jones, as the two crossed the RCMP exclusion barricade leading a group of 300 forest defenders on an Indigenous led the walk up to Waterfall paying homage to the fallen trees and the ones continuing to fall. Elder Jones was refused access with his car to make the 10 kilometre journey, and he was turned away from his own land on unceded Paacheedaht territory.
page 10 and 11:
Day 1 of arrests – Forest Defender Uddi being read the injunction before he is arrested at Caycuse Camp.
Walbran Valley. It's a locked situation right now that is in legal contention.
Customarily, our people, the Pacheedaht First Nation, looked upon the forest as all oldgrowth, and we all had to respect and not to go into the forest, except for prayer and meditation. And that included up the rivers or on top of the mountains or anywhere within reach. Wherever there was forest, it was holy.
Now, the logging companies are wanting to log the last of the remnants of the ancient forests in the Pacheedaht First Nation. That happens to be Fairy Creek, one of our holiest mountains where three or four of us used to, in our young days, walk up there, go up for prayer and meditation. We are wanting to save what's left of it for the children's future and their spiritual needs.
All people, particularly Europeans, have had their contact with nature and spiritual things transferred to their religions. Their religious people took over our spiritual practices, which neglected and persuaded people that our world didn't matter, only the churches mattered. We were trained to listen to the church, myself included. However, of late, I have been realizing that this world is a spiritual place, the whole world, and that, in fact, we have to reserve places and protect and care for them for our children's needs in their future.
Our young chief Victor Peter is the upcoming hereditary chief of the Pacheedaht
First Nation. He is for saving the old-growth that is left. I say the children are the future. There are a few Pacheedaht supporters finally coming out of the closet and perhaps we will bring our concerns to court to counter Teal-Jones wanting to pillage the last of the old growth. Mr. Horgan seems to be looking the other way for the spiritual needs of our children, both white and native. All people have spiritual needs. We have to realize that our Premier Horgan and the Prime Minister seem to cater more to big business, big interests, rather than little interests and little needs of our children. What they want to do is take all the remnants, to leave our future naked of any innocence. They want to wipe out all the innocence that most people want to save, for colonial profit.
I invite all people to come up to the old growth. Spend time there and bring your kids and your camera and show people what beauty and grandeur this world has, and that we are protecting the last of the great god’s grandeur.
Thank you,
William JonesTranscribed from video courtesy of Mamas Movement and Rainforest Flying Squad.
Edited for space and clarity.
https://youtu.be/Xb2DQ8iH2t0
The original ‘War in the Woods’ took place in Clayoquot Sound, British Columbia, during the 1980s, peaking in 1993 with the arrests of over 850 people—the largest act of civil disobedience in Canadian history. Protestors were outraged with the government’s support of private industry resource extraction that allowed logging companies to clearcut pristine ancient rainforest and wildlife habitat in the Clayoquot Sound. The protesters included residents of the Sound, the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation, the Ahousaht First Nation, Greenpeace, and other environmental groups. Famous individuals also got involved, resulting in mass media attention. Ultimately, logging companies were forced to leave the area.
Today, what is being called The New War in the Woods is taking place in the Fairy Creek Watershed, located on unceded Pacheedaht, Dididacht, and Huu-ay-aht Territory on South Vancouver Island. Protestors are fighting to protect old-growth from clearcutting by logging company Teal-Jones.
Teal-Jones was granted permits by the BC Government to log old-growth within three areas of its timber harvesting tenure. This includes the Fairy Creek Watershed. These licenses to log contradict Premier John Horgan’s election promise to protect old-growth forests.
In August of 2020, protests began. Camps and roadblocks were set up to deter log trucks coming into the territory. Elder Bill Jones, Hereditary Chief Victor Peter of the Pacheedaht Nation, and a small group of tree defenders called the Rainforest Flying Squad stood their ground in peaceful protest. The small group quickly gained supporters and soon hundreds of people joined them at Fairy Creek.
The controversy at Fairy Creek has not only brought to light the question, ‘Why are we logging old-growth in the first place?’ but it has also highlighted again the unjust treatment of First Nations people that continues in Canada. Disputes over who has the right to sign away logging rights on the unceded territories demonstrate that colonialism in Canada has never ended. Modern day colonialism includes the continued economic exploitation of First Nations people, attempting to control their resources via unfair government contracts that give a little, but take a lot.
According to Elder Bill Jones, those acting on behalf of the Pacheedaht Nation are not legal representatives of the Band. “The
pretender chief Frank Jones and the elected chief Jeff Jones are not the final authority here,” he said. “They’re acting out of their own pretentions. They are not being guided by our hereditary or cultural laws.”
On April 1, 2021, the BC Supreme Court made an order granting an injunction to Teal-Cedar, a division of the Teal-Jones Group. The injunction prohibits any person from obstructing, impeding, or interfering with their logging efforts in the Fairy Creek Watershed, but this did not slow down the protests. Instead, more people gathered against the injunction, and to date, over 300 people have been arrested.
With protests still gaining momentum, on June 9, 2021, following a request from the Huu-ay-aht, Ditidaht, and Pacheedaht First Nations, the Provincial Government granted a deferral on old-growth that covers a total of 2,034 hectares of old-growth forest.
The Provincial Government hoped that this would stop the protests.
“Reconciliation with Indigenous peoples and protecting the environment are top priorities for our government,” said Premier John Horgan. “We believe they must go hand-in-hand. That’s why we’re pleased to approve the request from three First Nations to defer old-growth logging on their territory—including in the Fairy Creek watershed. The first step in protecting old-growth must be respecting Indigenous peoples’ land-management rights in their territories.”
However, as I write, the protest, roadblocks, and RCMP arrests continue in the Fairy Creek Watershed. Activists say the old-growth logging deferral has changed little. Huge trees are still being cut down every day in the surrounding forests on the Pacheedaht territory.
Protestor Rainbow Eyes, an Indigenous forest defender at the Fairy Creek blockade, told Saving Earth Magazine, “The deferral was very confusing. Nobody knew for a few days [what was happening], but we know they are lying outright because on the news they keep flashing that the government has announced that there will be a complete stop in logging, but we know for a fact that they continue to log up in the injunction area. They are continuing to log in areas that they have already started on. It is complete lies.”
Support to protect old-growth continues to thrive.
On June 17, a letter to John Horgan signed by more than 100 prominent Canadians, as well as international celebrities, demanded the preservation of the province’s remaining 2.7 percent old-growth trees. Signatories include former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, Margaret Atwood, Jane Fonda, Bryan Adams, Neil Young, and global climate activist Greta Thunberg. See: https://canopyplanet.org/letterand-signatories-calling-for-the-protection-of-vancouver-islands-oldgrowth-forests/
“I would hope,” Rainbow Eyes said, “that we can raise awareness globally on the importance of our forests, on old-growth, because this is an issue that goes so deep and is so multi-layered between people, our connection to land, and our disconnect from land.”
As national and international support continues to grow, Rainbow Eyes may just get her wish. u
“It is time for the federal government to address the real problems afflicting our band. The
predatory loan,
the aftermath of the residential schools, the elected band council that fails to act in the interests of Pacheedaht band members, the loss of potlatch and culture. Horgan and his government, too, have much to answer for in allowing the elected leadership to sign such shameful agreements that will guarantee the ongoing impoverishment of my people,” states Elder Bill Jones.
WE WOULD LIKE TO EXTEND OUR THANKS TO DAWNA MUELLER FOR THE FAIRY CREEK PHOTOS ON PAGES 4 AND 6 TO 17. INSTAGRAM @DAWNA MUELLER.
BY CASSIE PEARSE
The Fairy Creek Watershed is making news right now as groups of people move to protect vitally important old-growth trees from Teal-Jones, a logging company that has been granted permission to cut down these natural monuments. Never wishing to shy away from controversial issues when the environment and social justice are at stake, Saving Earth Magazine reached out to individuals and organizations involved in the protests.
For readers not familiar with Canadian geography, the Fairy Creek Watershed is located on unceded Pacheedaht, Huu-ay-aht, and Dididacht Territory, that is, land that still belongs to First Nations people, on Vancouver Island.
Joshua Wright, filmaker, sitting next to old-growth. Photography: Lance Oditt
A large segment of an old growth tree stands on display to block anyone from crossing across the bridge. Two forest defenders stand on either side. Photography: Mackai Sharp
One such protester, 17-year-old filmmaker Joshua Wright, wrote to Saving Earth Magazine to explain what he’s doing and why. Wright describes himself as a ‘non-human-rights activist’ rather than an environmentalist. In his upcoming documentary film, Eden’s Last Chance, Wright showcases the exploitation of our planet in the name of progress. This extraordinary young man tells the stories of the communities on the frontlines of the fight to save our planet. He examines the underlying economic and cultural system that values profit over planet, products over people, and today over tomorrow.
Now that his documentary is in the post-production phase, he has turned his attention to helping to save the ancient forests of British Columbia, Canada.
“I became an environmentalist when I was really young. I'd see pictures of gigantic trees from the 1800s and be fascinated by them. My family lived in Africa at the time, and I was surrounded by some of the most incredible wildlife in the world. When I got older, I started learning about old-growth logging in British Columbia. Through my early teens my father and I would visit places like Edinburgh Mountain and the Walbran Valley, and year by year I'd see more areas clear-cut. I grew frustrated by what I saw as a false sense of normalcy, and I decided to make a documentary film about the climate crisis when I was 14 years old.
The day we finished the shoot for Eden’s Last Chance, I started campaigning for the protection of an old-growth forest in Washington state, and shortly after, I noticed via satellite imagery and the government mapping website iMap BC, that forestry company Teal-Jones had begun road building into the Fairy Creek area ... On Google Earth, this area shows up as a 5000-acre sea of green and a jigsaw landscape of clearcuts. I've always seen it as a fortress of biodiversity.”
These old-growth forests are irreplaceable and good forest management is vital to mitigate climate change and maintaining biodiversity and ecological resilience. According to the Ministry of Forests, Mines, and Lands, there are over 400 species of plants and animals that rely on BC’s old-growth forests for at least part of their life cycle and the habitats they provide simply are not available in younger forests. The forests are also an important cultural resource for First Nations. The trees are irreplaceable, yet here we are with Teal Jones holding logging rights and injunctions issued against those trying to protect the forest.
As a non-human-rights activist, Wright not only speaks for the trees, but he also acts for them and the hugely diverse ecosystem of which they are a part.
“I've always loved ancient forests, and that's why I fight for them,” he says. “To me, they are the most elegant, most richly abundant communities of life I could ever imagine. Everybody knows about human rights activists. I like to think of myself as a non-human-rights activist. My fight to protect forests has nothing to do with people and everything to do with the billions of organisms that live within the forests.
“In the spring of 2020, I remember watching as Teal-Jones logged a cut block in the Caycuse watershed. It was a valley bottom forest that I had never been to but always regarded as one of the best places to search for massive trees. As it turns out, I was right, and that cut block destroyed some of the biggest trees remaining on Vancouver Island ... So, when I saw that Teal-Jones had started construction on a road network into Fairy Creek I was not about to stand by.”
It is clear that Wright is a very talented and passionate person. He, along with an ever-growing cohort of young activists around the world (see Saving Earth Magazine Spring 2021: “Inspirational
Environmental Faces”), feels a deep responsibility and takes it very personally. He worries about the world his generation will inherit and how they are not being adequately prepared for the future they face by the current educational system.
“I feel like my entire generation is haunted by the stark vision of our future as laid out by climate scientists. I think we all know that we need to radically transform the way we live to create a brighter future. The problem is that my generation is often paralyzed. Many of us don't know what to do. We will speak up on social media, we will sign petitions and go to demonstrations; however, we are still being taught an archaic and destructive ideology of individualism and greed—the same ideology that was taught to our parents and the same ideology that has created this mess. Because we are taught this ideology, my generation seems to be caught between doing what our parents did— living the middle-class dream—or essentially having a revolution against industry and working to create an egalitarian world of wilderness, self-determination, and sustainability.
“Is there enough awareness of the real issues behind the environment, policy development, and natural resource harvesting? Is there motivation to make meaningful change, or is it just lip service among most young people, as well? In my opinion, the problem isn't awareness, it's action. Millions of people have marched in the school strikes, but the problem is that most people's action ends there. We find ourselves having to beg for our future from politicians who all too often seem not to care. We also need to act in defence of our future and be prepared to take action when it seems the adults in the room let us down.”
Wright explains what he feels is needed from his generation:
“To make a tangible difference, young people need to do three things: firstly, we need to start holding our parents' generation to account. That can include going to protests, calling elected representatives, or getting family to support movements like the Fairy Creek Blockade. Beyond that, young people need to start taking action of their own. We need to start doing whatever we can to save a few trees or prevent a few tons of carbon from entering our atmosphere.
“This leads to the final course of action that young people need to take. We need to reject the notion that we can or will have what our parents’ generation has. There's too little time for us to participate in the system that is destroying the world. Instead, we need to re-envision that system. We need to stop participating in that system and we need to start creating an alternative system. It will be our job to envision that alternative.
I don't think we have a choice. Young people must stay engaged in the fight for life on Earth, because the future will be up to us.”
The Facebook page for the blockade issued the following statement on May 30, “Recognizing that tensions may feel high, we would like to clarify that we stand for a more resilient future. A future that honours Indigenous rights, the critical biodiversity of the ancient temperate rainforest, and regenerative forestry practices.”
On May 31, word was sent out that all eight tree-sitters protecting the Caycuse old-growth have been removed, and the trees are being felled, yet the protesters' determination to save these vitally important trees continues.
If you can’t show up in person, you can follow along and show your support on social media:
Instagram: instagram.com/fairycreekblockade
Facebook: facebook.com/FairyCreekBlockade
BY MACKAI SHARP - FILMMAKER,
PHOTOGRAPHER, ADVOCATE, AND GRADE 12 HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT
With the last of my high school courses wrapping up long before graduation, I wanted to take advantage of the weird limbo of being semi-graduated to begin production on a new documentary piece. Old-growth forests have long been gone from my community in the north of Vancouver Island, but I began to hear more about these incredible and vital ecosystems across much of the island. As I discovered how quickly these forests were falling off our maps, I began hearing about a grassroots movement of activists uniting in a watershed in the Pacheedaht First Nation at Fairy Creek. Their goal was simple: prevent logging of old-growth trees in Fairy Creek and, presumably, across the whole province. With the little background knowledge I had, I set out to research and begin film production, first speaking with forest defenders who had just returned from the blockades. It was immediately clear to me both how profound this situation was and how urgent of a matter it was becoming. So urgent, in fact, that two days into production the police were already on their way to make arrests. I wasted no time getting down to the Caycuse camp in Fairy Creek.
10:37 P.M., MAY 17, 2021
With the heavy rain illuminated by the headlights of the parked cruiser vehicles blocking the short stretch of pavement and preventing access to Caycuse, I approached the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) hoping I could talk my way inside, past the police checkpoint. But much like everyone who came before me, they turned down my requests and instead suggested I return the following morning to speak with their media liaison. So, my friend (and amazing crew member) Zara Nybo and I made our way to join all of those standing in solidarity before the police checkpoint at the entrance of Caycuse. It was here that I spoke with the organizers who were co-ordinating and strategizing their next approach and how they’d best support those inside. They cautioned me that by early morning the situation would escalate, and the arrests would begin.
Being new to this, I didn’t quite understand what all this meant or how profound this clash of beliefs and ideas truly was. I spent the remainder of my evening in Caycuse speaking with those who stayed awake late into the night—other forest defenders, family members, friends, and children. People were rightfully on edge. The RCMP had never tried something to this extent before. Despite the sharp tension, all those standing outside the blockade had high morale and endless passion.
6:00 A.M., MAY 18, 2021
The condensation ran down the foggy windows inside our vehicle. It was finally light out and there were lots of voices outside. After suiting up for the drizzle, we were greeted by smiling faces and small groups of people discussing their thoughts and feelings surrounding the circumstances. The tension was almost unbearable as some seemed to be getting restless waiting for any movement from inside. I knew my time was limited before things would escalate, so I made my second attempt with the RCMP, pleading with them to let me inside. I assured them that I was legit, but just like the night previous, I was turned away and advised that I wasn’t on their “list.”
When I returned to the makeshift camp beyond the police checkpoint, I was approached by a local man who had heard about my desire to speak with those inside. He took me aside and explained that he had just returned from the other side of the checkpoint.
A forest defender suspended high above the ground in a sleeping bag during the rain. Photography: Mackai Sharp
There might be a way inside.
Unfortunately, we were interrupted by several protesters screaming from the other side of the makeshift camp outside the police checkpoint. “They’re here! They’re here! Block the roads!” The RCMP reinforcements had arrived. More than ten police vehicles idled beyond a makeshift blockade put together by four or five protesters to prevent the police from reaching the checkpoint. A woman approached a Staff Sgt. of the Chilliwack RCMP. He demanded that the protesters clear the road and allow reinforcements to pass or those who stood in the way would be arrested. The woman requested that the officer recite her the injunction, a request dismissed several times. At this point I went beyond this makeshift blockade and wanted to speak with the other officers. I started by asking for badge numbers, but I was dismissed. I asked again, confused why I was being disregarded, but was only answered with silence.
8:45 A.M., MAY 18
The police reinforcements got through, and word got out that the media was about to be let in. I knew I had minutes to find a solution, or I wouldn’t get to speak with those inside. CBC, CTV, and several other networks awaited entry beside a new police officer I hadn’t seen before. With one last shot, I approached the RCMP and explained my case, pleading with them to let me inside. Shockingly, I was able to convince the officer I was real and was allowed to pass the police checkpoint. This was a rare chance to see inside. All other independent media had been turned away, and now I felt the weight on my shoulders to capture what was happening inside for all those who could not.
We were greeted at the first real blockade by a man singing and playing his guitar while an older woman stood beside him waving a sign reading “Grandmother for Old-Growth”.
With every strum of his guitar, the forest defender slashed through the tension. With his music he settled the situation as if accepting what was about to take place. I learned his name was Mitchell and he had come to Fairy Creek from Vancouver.
He told me that he was there “to take the last stand.” When I asked him his thoughts about being arrested, he replied, “Ultimately, I know we are doing the right thing, and that fills my heart with joy. There have been moments of trials and tribulations with every movement that we have had, and I think as this continues to unfold the truth will come out and we’ll be on the right side of history.”
After speaking with him, the RCMP literally threw several copies of the injunction at the protesters and cautioned them they would be subject to arrest if they chose to stay. It wasn’t clear to what extent they would be persecuted. After ten long minutes of stillness, the RCMP grabbed both Mitchell and the grandmother forest defender by the arms and led them to a police vehicle.
Ahead of me was a metal gate that blocked off the road. This was the second blockade. Attached to it was a woman—Rainbow Eyes—with a vibrant red handprint across her face. She was wearing a woven hat that appeared to be made from cedar. She had chained her neck to the gate and cemented her arm inside the PVC pipe. Attached to the oth-
er end of the pipe was a man—Brandon—who had also cemented his arm. The police wanted to advance through the blockades as swiftly as they could and only allowed me to speak with these defenders for five minutes. I asked what Rainbow Eyes wanted those outside of the blockade to know, and she responded: “Listen. The trees are calling. There’s nothing on the news, nothing in the government. You listen to your heart, and you know what is right to do.”
She continued, “It is a connection to ancestors, to the Earth, to spirits. The old-growth represents so much for connecting to the land in a way that we’ve forgotten,” she added before being interrupted by a police officer who explained that they were subject to arrest if they chose to keep themselves “in the way.” He threw more copies of the injunction onto the ground before stepping away to count down the minutes till their arrest. When the time ran out, several officers hid Rainbow Eyes and Brandon behind tarps to prevent us from witnessing their arrest. They were eventually removed and detained.
I ran ahead of the police line as I knew my time inside was limited. I made my way past several structures built by the defenders before stopping at the bridge crossing. Before me was a massive slice from an old-growth tree. The slice stood on its side with all its thousands of years of rings on display. On either side of the tree sat two women, both chained to the bridge. Behind them was another woman, suspended high in the air between three large wooden pikes, and beneath her, a man had cemented part of his body to the ground.
I briefly spoke with several of these forest defenders, but it was clear down here, the energy was more of concern. Soon after, I was escorted out of the Caycuse blockade by the RCMP, and I joined everyone on the outside once again.
There was a real consistency on the ground among all who were there on behalf of the ancient trees. They were in the moment, passionate, assertive, and inclusive. There is no debating the true sense of togetherness and community that was generated in the adversity of protest. They are an ecosystem within an ecosystem.
“Customarily, our people—the Pacheedaht First Nation—we all had to respect the forest and only go inside for prayer and meditation,” said Elder Bill Jones. “Wherever there was forest, it was holy. Now the logging companies want to log the last of the ancient forests within the Pacheedaht First Nation and that happens to be Fairy Creek—one of our holiest mountains.”
While the protestors are a community, there is no doubt whether the conversation about old-growth forests is divided, polarized, and quickly escalating. But within this debate, we must remind ourselves of the historical context that has systematically justified much of what has persisted until today. It is now that we will see an important decision from our provincial NDP government. Will it side with their campaign promises that granted them the privilege to run our province or with the unions that fund their party? Does our premier value the longevity of his constituents’ support or the economic push of wiping the remaining three percent of old-growth off the map of Beautiful British Columbia? Over the coming months we will see where his values lie. u
Photography: province of british columbia
By Robin Strong and Aurora Tejeida
Standing in the open field that only three and a half years ago was populated by old-growth and mature Douglas fir, Bert William reminisces about the forest that once stood there and the devastating fire that consumed it.
William is the senior archaeological advisor for the Bonaparte Indian Band and has always lived in the rugged country within Secwepemc territory. His band came and cleared the stumps and debris shortly after the Elephant Hill fire devastated this forest in the valley bottom of the Loon Lake watershed, near Cache Creek, BC, back in 2017, so that all that remained was the unnaturally open field.
“The fire went across, up the gully, up the valley to the [Ashcroft Indian Band] reserve,” William says. “It burned down six houses on the reserve. There were some [houses] in the line of fire and it never touched them. Jumped over those and burned some down, jumped over six, burned another one down. There was one house that got left here and four houses that burned around it sort of thing.”
The Elephant Hill fire broke out near Ashcroft on July 6, 2017, and was the largest in BC during the record-breaking wildfire season that year. It burned nearly 1,920 square kilometres of land, ravaging the Ashcroft, Boston Flats, Loon Lake, and Green Lake areas of the BC’s Interior region. Approximately three-quarters of the Bonaparte Indian Band territory was impacted by the fire, with a burn area 75 kilometres wide in places.
That day, William had driven into town with his mother when he noticed the smoke on the hills around noontime.
“Mom was in a panic, saying, ‘Let’s get home, let’s get home be-
fore they shut the roads off!’ So, we came home, and it was starting to burn up on the hills as we were coming back from Cache Creek. Up on those hills, you could see it burning. It was rolling along,” William recalls.
“Within a minute, the whole fire was just creeping up the mountain. Then, all of a sudden, it just takes right off. By the time we got down to Bonaparte, it had just come over the hill. That whole country was on fire. You could see flames at the top of the hill, way up in the air.”
After dropping his mother off at home, William picked up his brother and drove back towards Cache Creek to fight the fire that by now was at the main Bonaparte reserve. He recalls people coming out of their homes to help with whatever equipment they had, spraying down the sagebrush and grass and building fire guards to protect homes.
By the time the Cache Creek fire department showed up, William says the land was covered in smoke and confusion. The smoke was so thick he could hear the BC Wildfire helicopters but not see them.
BC has seen some of its worst fire seasons in recent years, and the severity and frequency of these fires are likely to increase in a warming climate. But there are concrete steps we can take to mitigate this climate risk . Unfortunately, humankind is logging its biggest ally— intact forested landscapes.
The dry forests of the interior evolved in tandem with Indigenous peoples and natural wildfire. The forested landscape prior to
colonial forestry practices was made up of old-growth forests interspersed with young forests, grasslands, shrub fields, wetlands, and forest openings. This mosaic of ecosystems was created and maintained through the influences of wildfire and Indigenous cultural burning.
But this landscape has changed dramatically with decades of unsustainable clear-cut logging. Historically, many forests in this region were made up of old trees spaced widely apart, with characteristics that enabled them to survive and thrive with regular wildfires. These old forests act like giant sponges, absorbing, and retaining water, sheltering snow from melting, then slowly releasing the water over a long period of time so even what little is left of these intact forests helps regulate the size and intensity of wildfires.
This also means that when left intact, these forests are more likely to burn in natural and predictable ways, making their protection and restoration one of the most effective ways to mitigate risks for wildlife and humans alike.
Severe wildfires have had huge impacts on the wellbeing of wildlife and residents all over BC. Three weeks after the Elephant Hill fires started, smoke blanketed most of BC and parts of Alberta. The fire burned for several months, with smoke cover for weeks on end.
“Day after day after day, man, it wears on you. Mentally it wears on you,” recalls William, who suffered a stroke a few months before the Elephant Hill fire.
“My condition was, you know, I was having all kinds of problems with it,” he says. “Mental problems. Trying to deal with the stroke thing and I was dealing with this at the same time. It really just about broke you sometimes.”
In addition to the displacement of many community members, the fire and the fight to control it caused enormous economic, property, and cultural losses. According to William, over 200 archeological sites were impacted, something he says could have been mitigated had local communities been allowed to be more involved in the efforts to fight the fire.
“That hurt a lot,” William explains. “To be kicked out of your home and have some stranger come tell you what to do in your backyard.”
Including local and Indigenous knowledge in the decisionmaking process can also go a long way when it comes to preventing these types of fires from starting in the first place.
“ When a fire starts up, a plane comes in to bomb it and they put it out, within an acre fire right? And they kept doing that over and over and over again for years. You know, it was great to put the fire out, but it’s not so great that all the fuel’s built up over the years. That’s what happened here,” William says.
Historically, fire has played an important role in maintaining ecosystem health for many types of forests, and restoring natural fire regimes can be an important part of achieving balance. But this would require a fundamental shift in public and institutional attitudes towards fire management, as well as collaboration with Indigenous decision-makers.
It doesn’t end with natural fire regimes and protecting old and intact forests. Logging practices also need to change. Clear-cuts generate a large amount of unused wood, leaving behind an estimated 40 to 60 percent of a forest’s biomass. The material often sits for years, creating a large amount of dry fuel on the ground that is vulnerable to fire.
Additionally, the practice of replacing intact forests with younger forests is a significant driver of wildfire severity.
“Logging practices, like taking out all those [old-growth] trees, planting all those pine trees. You go up to Scotty Creek and all those plantations burned, too. Those trees were this tall,” William explains, motioning about hip-height. “The fire just ripped right through that. A carpet of fire.”
In BC’s interior, intact forests don’t just moderate the extreme weather events brought on by climate change; they also retain a natural pattern of wildfire. A pattern with which people have coexisted for millennia and can continue to coexist if the BC government commits to protecting intact forests and better-managing forests degraded by logging to restore their resilience.
When asked if he thinks the fires were worse because of those plantations, William’s answer is short.
“Worse. The fire would have stopped if it wasn’t there.” u
ashcroft, BC. Photography: miko fox
BY DAVID SUZUKI
Protection and restoration are two sides of the conservation coin—protection for spaces that haven’t yet been damaged or destroyed by large-scale human impacts and restoration for ecologically critical places that have.
Although both might seem like relatively straightforward scientific tasks, they have been and continue to be significantly shaped by colonialism—globally and in Canada.
Landscape-level restoration initiatives are somewhat new. It’s only recently that the scale of our activities has degraded entire ecosystems. Yet restoration initiatives are still subject to colonial approaches.
Consider one recent European-led, naturebased approach to climate change, part of an initiative to plant a billion trees. It included the Serengeti plains and Kruger National Park in Africa as potential reforestation areas. According to the Yale Journal of Forestry, “By not excluding conservation areas and traditional rangelands … these maps promote the idea that Africa’s natural heritage can be turned into industrial tree plantations to offset the rich world’s carbon emissions.”
Protected areas were established in Canada decades before Newfoundland and Labrador joined other provinces and territories to form the country we know today. Most are rooted in a colonial approach that defied Indigenous rights and fractured Indigenous Peoples’ relations with land.
Jasper National Park’s website provides this overview: “When Jasper Park Forest Reserve was created in 1907… Indigenous peoples were seen as obstacles to the enjoyment of nature. According to wilderness conservation policies at the time, Indigenous peoples were considered incompatible with nature and so couldn’t live in, hunt, or harvest within park boundaries. First Nation and Métis peoples were physically removed from the landscape, blocked from accessing it, and banned from harvesting plants and animals, holding gatherings, and accessing cultural sites.”
This is not unique to Jasper. Indigenous people were also forcibly removed to create Vancouver’s Stanley Park and Quetico Park in Ontario, among others.
As Indigenous writer Robert Jago remarks in “National Parks Are Colonial Crime Scenes,” “Canada’s Parks Departments have treated Indigenous peoples like an infestation ever since the founding, in 1885, of what is now Banff National Park.”
How can we, who find solace and communion in parks, help overcome these past injustices?
Indigenous Peoples are already leading on many fronts, including championing land repatriation and Indigenous land governance, and by asserting rights and responsibilities that provincial and federal governments have long denied. These initiatives deserve broad public support.
As one example, in Jasper, Simpcw First Nation Chief Nathan Matthew announced in 2017 that his tribe was going to resume hunting deer, sheep, and elk within the park, after being banned from doing so when the park was established. “We’re determined to exercise our title and right within our territory,” he said.
"In Return the National Parks to the Tribes", Indigenous American David Treuer writes, “For Native Americans, there can be no better remedy for the theft of land than land. And for us, no lands are as spiritually significant as the national parks. They should be returned to us. Indians should tend—and protect and preserve —these favored gardens again.”
Canada too must explore new means of land governance. Indigenous Peoples have long histories of responsibly stewarding ecosystems, of living within them without causing their demise. Many national and provincial parks are not succeeding in their primary objective to maintain biodiversity. Jasper recently announced extirpation of a resident caribou herd, and conflict continues over management decisions that could affect the two remaining, highly imperilled herds.
According to Treuer, “It’s not clear that today’s model of care and custodianship best meets the needs of the land, Native people, or the general public. Nor is it clear that the current system will adequately ensure the parks’ future. That’s something Indians are good at: pushing ahead while bringing the past along with us... Placing these lands under collective Native control would be good not just for Natives, but for the parks, as well.”
It’s our collective responsibility to engage in conversations about how new systems of land governance could look. Everything should be on the table, including ownership and governance of current protected areas. As Jago notes, “The places Canada has made into parks are filled with our stories—every mountain, every valley has a name and a history for Indigenous peoples.”
David Suzuki is a scientist, broadcaster, author, and co-founder of the David Suzuki Foundation. Written with contributions from David Suzuki Foundation Boreal Project Manager Rachel Plotkin. Learn more at davidsuzuki.org.
BY TEENA CLIPSTON, PHOTOS COURTESY OF MOMS STOP THE HARM
Addiction is a social issue that affects the families of the addict as well as whole communities. The opioid crisis in British Columbia, Canada, is a growing public health concern, which has resulted in thousands of deaths. As a human race I think we have become disconnected from who we truly are. It is important that we heal our communities, just as it is important to heal our Earth. One cannot be done without the other. I share with you my personal experience with the opioid crisis.
Isat watching my son’s chest rise and fall as he struggled at each inhalation, his sedated slumber self-inflicted. The motel room was silent except for his occasional gasp for air. His face was distorted from how he once looked, now skeletal with sunken cheeks, open sores, and a layer of pain. What happened to my boy? I watched him intently. My hands unknowingly clenched and my own face distorted with lines of worry. Don’t die, I thought. Keep breathing. For a moment it reminded me of when he was a baby in his crib. Like all new and nervous moms, I would check on him constantly to see if he was still breathing. But he is no longer a baby. He is 29 years old and sudden infant death syndrome was not my worry—the fentanyl he had just injected was. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead, I sat motionless, staring at his chest rising and falling. I didn’t know it yet, but I was traumatized.
I contemplated what I should do if he suddenly stopped breathing. Do inject him with the Naloxone needle first, or call 911? We had been trying to see a doctor at Interior Health’s (IH) Opioid Agonist Treatment clinic (OATS) in Kelowna to get him on methadone. They were too busy. Instead of seeing a doctor, on that specific day my son was given Naloxone (also known as Narcan) in case of overdose and a harm reduction supply bag that contained syringes, sterile water vials, stericups (cookers), alcohol swabs, and tourniquets. At the time, I did not know what was in that bag. It was not until I found my son hunched over in the motel bathroom with a needle in his arm that I realized that it contained syringes, and my son had just used one of those syringes to inject fentanyl. I was furious.
I wanted to get my son off drugs, not have him use them in a more dangerous way. I sat
there watching him in my traumatized state, thinking, The government’s response to the opioid crisis needs to change. Prior to this, my son had been only smoking fentanyl to keep his withdrawals at bay. As the mother of a son addicted to opioids it is hard to understand how supplying addicts with syringes to inject dangerous street drugs helps. Where is the harm reduction in this? I know they say it is to stop the spread of HIV and hepatitis among users who would share needles, but they just made my situation much worse. The chance of overdose from injection was far more than from smoking the drug.
Naloxone is a medication used to reverse the effects of opioids, such as fentanyl or heroin. It is to be injected into a muscle of someone who is overdosing. Too much of any opioid can cause respiratory distress and respiratory failure, which can lead to death. The government of Canada supplies these kits free of charge to prevent deaths from overdose. This, along with the harm reduction supplies, the decriminalization of street drugs as part of their anti-stigma campaign, and the OATS program seem to be the government’s main strategies for helping those addicted to opioids. Detox beds and government-funded residential treatment centres exist, but they are hard to access and are not prioritized.
A week before I sat there with my son in that motel room watching him use fentanyl, I was contacted by a friend who works with the Vernon Homeless Outreach Team Association. She told me about my son’s deteriorating health. She picked him up from the shelter and met me in Kelowna where I rented a motel room and made a plan to save my son.
Users of opioids become physically and mentally addicted to the drugs. When they stop using, they go into withdrawals that make them physically ill. These withdrawals are extremely painful and are often debilitating. The user has no choice but to seek out more of the drug to make themselves well again. The only way out from this is a supervised medical detox.
My plan was to get him on methadone so he could stop using street drugs and so that he would be well enough to travel home with me to Vancouver Island. Then, I would get him into a rehab facility with a detox program. It was and still is not as easy as that
sounds. Even the first step of getting him on methadone was difficult. Then there was the question of how I was going to pay for everything. COVID has not been easy on small businesses, and I was not overflowing with cash. I reminded myself, just focus on one step at a time.
For a little more than a week I had to watch my son use street drugs because I could not immediately get him a prescription for methadone. He was turned away three times by the receptionist at IH, each time telling us to come back another day. They had only one part-time doctor working per shift and with each visit, they would say they did
not have time for my son, until, out of anger, I insisted that he be seen, telling the receptionist at IH’s OATS clinic, “I am not leaving until a doctor sees my son.”
I am one of myriad mothers who has been impacted by the opioid crisis that looms over Canada and the United States. Fortunately my son is still alive, but as I write this, my journey to save my son is not over. I am not yet here to write a success story. The outcome of all my efforts is still unknown. And although some have congratulated me on what I have done so far, let it be known that every day is still a struggle.
It has been over five years since BC
declared a public health emergency in response to the ongoing opioid crisis. Over 7,000 people have died in BC alone since the emergency was first declared on April 14, 2016. This number of deaths continues to grow, setting new records for illicit drug toxicity deaths. Why are overdose deaths increasing? Are government solutions not working as expected?
As a mother watching her son destroy his health and life, I ask myself why recovery is not the first option for addicts. Why is rehabilitation not part of the OATS program’s
plan for my son? Shockingly, the province does not make rehabilitation the preferred treatment.
A doctor at IH’s OATS program clinic told me that my son doesn’t need rehab and that he can stay on methadone for the rest of his life. This view was reinforced by Jana Abetkoff from IH’s clinical operations team. Abetkoff stated in an interview on why Pathways Addictions Resource Centre in Penticton should be defunded, that the health authority is focusing on harm reduction, safe supply, and ensuring services match a person’s needs.
“Literature shows that residential treatment is not effective,” she said. “Going to a treatment centre is intrusive and it plucks them away from their community, family, and job. It puts them in a false environment where they learn new skills and then they are expected to transition back into their community. It’s effective for some but not the majority.”
Instead of recommending rehabilitation through residential treatment, they are relying on opioid agonist treatment that includes methadone, suboxone, and other pharmaceutical-grade opioids, substituting the street drug with another addictive substance that would be delivered to the user via a daily visit to the pharmacy.
I had several problems with Abetkoff’s statement, and I wanted
some answers. My first question, of course, was do residential treatment centres actually work? I was fortunate enough to connect with Dr. Julian M. Somers, director of The Centre for Applied Research in Mental Health and Addiction (CARMHA) and Distinguished Professor at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver. I asked him his thoughts on Abetkoff’s statement and what his stance was on residential treatment for opioid users.
“The statement that residential treatment doesn't work is simply incorrect,” stated Dr. Somers. “I don’t know what literature she is talking about. Normally, we would look at things like systematic reviews, like the attachment I sent you ["The effectiveness of residential treatment services for individuals with substance use disorders: A systematic review" from the international journal Drug and Alcohol Dependence (Volume 201, 1 August 2019)], which takes an objective view of the full scope of studies on residential treatment. This is one of the latest systematic reviews, but all systematic reviews, all reviews on residential treatment have concluded that it can be highly effective.
“Of course, there is variation in how residential programs operate and not all are likely to be similarly effective,” said Dr. Somers. “The programs described in research publications are likely among the better run examples of residential treatment.”
Unfortunately, the statement Abetkoff made is not only incorrect; it is also causing harm reduction and residential treatment to be seen as opposing forces when both systems of care should be working together. Furthermore, it is upsetting to those who have already completed residential treatment.
“You also have to consider the perspective of somebody who knows that their life was saved by residential treatment,” said Dr. Somers. “They go to [Narcotics Anonymous] meetings. They meet other people who say the same thing. And now they see this person saying that residential treatment doesn't work. That's shaming. That's like telling them their story is incorrect.”
Additionally, I found that Abetkoff’s statement on treatment centres being intrusive, suggesting that it takes drug users away from their community does not fit with everyone’s story. I actively wanted my son removed from his current circumstances, which consisted of drug dealers and other individuals living with active addiction.
Dr. Somers continued, “Residential treatment programs give people an opportunity to step away from one way of living to cultivate a better one. Effective facilities also ensure that there is a plan to help the person transition and successfully sustain this new way of being themselves.”
Yes, that is what I wanted for my son. A new beginning, a chance at
a better life, an opportunity to be free from the shackles of addiction. Don’t we all want the same thing for those who are suffering, to give people, all people, a quality-of-life worth living?
Even with harm reduction supplies, users are still buying from an extremely toxic street supply. In an article by TheTyee.ca, Chief Medical Health Officer for Vancouver Coastal Health, Dr. Mark Lysyshyn, identified three of the main sources of contamination: fentanyl in much higher concentrations than ever before, benzodiazepines found in both fentanyl and heroin, and methamphetamine and cocaine containing fentanyl contamination. The problem with benzodiazepines in fentanyl and heroin is that it means the Naloxone injection for overdoses will not always work.
The current strategies engaged in this crisis are band-aid solutions. There are an estimated 77,000 diagnosed with an opioid disorder in BC, and overdose deaths continue to rise. In the province of BC, in 2020, there was a 74 percent increase in deaths from 2019. And the latest BC Coroners’ Service update has identified shortfalls in the safe supply program. I repeat: the government programs are not working.
CBC News reported in August of 2020 that people are dying of overdoses while waiting for treatment. Evan James, former drug user and the son of BC Finance Minister Carol James, explained that ‘huge’ waiting periods between support services like detox and treatment put drug users at higher risk of dying. “They'll go into detox and have a huge wait before they can get into a treatment or sober living facility,” James said. “So, they have to go back to the environment they were in before, which is rife with addiction and substances. At that point, their tolerance is so low that they're hugely at risk for overdose.”
While the government is focusing on stigma, communicable diseases, and overdoses, they are not actually addressing the real problem of the addiction. When someone goes into a residential facility, treatment can include a full recovery plan that includes withdrawal management, psychological support, therapeutic solutions, and support with reintegration into the community. These types of therapies are long-term solutions that give those with substance use disorder a quality of life that can never be achieved with opioid agonist treatment alone. This is the reason why doctors prescribing methadone and treatment facilities need to work together. Certainly methadone has its place, but without acknowledging and treating the root of the problem this crisis will not end.
My son, whose opioid addiction started with the pharmaceutical drug called OxyContin, was now back in the hands of the pharmaceutical companies curing him with methadone and a cocktail of other opioids.
As much as the methadone was helping my son, I wondered if the methadone profits are influencing the type of treatments available. A quick search into methadone profits brought me to the BC provincial government page that advertises a methadone maintenance payment program for pharmacies in BC. Their site states that under the program, PharmaCare offers payment to all pharmacies for witnessing the ingestion of methadone.
As far back as 2008, it was known that there is profit in methadone. In the article, “Medical profiteering: the economics of methadone dispensation”, it outlines how some pharmacies in the Vancouver area were manipulating patients by paying them kickbacks.
In a 2014 CBC News interview, Methadone Treatment Needs Review, Indigenous leader of the Nishnawbe Aski Nation, deputy grand chief Alvin Fiddler states, “Running a methadone clinic is big business. It generates a lot of revenue.” A doctor can bill up to $10,000 a year to supervise methadone treatment for one patient... and the treatment can go on for years. “We’ve heard that clients that were on this program 10 or 11 years ago are given the same dose today,” he said. “The effectiveness of the methadone program is under question.”
Methadone should only be used as a temporary solution while addicts transition from street drugs to rehabilitation facilities. It only addresses the withdrawal symptoms, the addiction, while the reasons behind the addiction go unresolved.
Methadone (and other opioids) includes a long list of dangerous side effects and prolonged use is known to cause nerve, liver, and brain damage. Methadone can also be misused, as the addicted individual can still use street drugs while taking the prescription, driving tolerance to opioids higher, causing the user to need more and more of the drug to satisfy their addiction.
Dr. Somers agrees. “We're one of the few places where our main response to an opioid poisoning crisis, that was in part caused by physicians prescribing opioids, is prescribing more opioids. This is kind of like listening to Americans who say that the best way to address gun violence is to have more guns.
“There is also no interest in our system in talking about alcohol, stimulants, methamphetamine, or even cocaine. We don’t even talk about cannabis dependence. We have no interest. Why? Because there isn’t a straight line to the pharmacy. This is the only area where we can mobilize highly profitable drugs.”
Dr. Somers was correct in that treatments are not being offered for other drugs. My son wasn’t only using opioids. My son’s OATS doctor was aware of the fact that he was also using methamphetamines, and no treatment for this drug was offered to him.
“There is a two-part message here,” said Dr. Somers. “One is the pharmacy getting paid to do this every single day, and the other is every time the pharmacist sees that patient, he is going to be reminded he can’t be trusted. Because ‘if we give them more [methadone or other prescribed opioids], they will surely sell it or stockpile it’. The pharmacy counter should be a place where, if we cared about addiction, the pharmacist who's doing the dispensing should be engaging patients in conversation and they should have other resources available, including residential treatment, housing, counselling, employment, and other things that we know people often want and need. That's harm reduction. There's nothing like that happening.”
FINDING A REHABILITATION FACILITY
The answer is clear. The best recovery plan is sobriety through rehabilitation. A life on methadone would give my son no future, no freedom, and would lower his life expectancy.
After two weeks on methadone, I was finally able to get my son well enough to travel home with me. From there we could start the process of getting him to Cedars at Cobble Hill, recommended to me as one of the best private rehabilitation centres on Vancouver Island. All my ducks were in a row, except for the one thing I did not yet fully comprehend: my son’s mental health. Drugs can cause anxiety, depression, difficulty concentrating, psychosis, extreme fatigue, and other mental challenges. As my son’s caretaker during the process of waiting for rehab, I was not trained to deal with these types of serious issues.
These mental health problems will most probably all go away once my son stops opioids and detoxes. But how do you get someone in that state of mind to trust other people to help him?
Trust, like healing, takes time. It takes an end to isolation, love from family and friends, and the opportunity for hope to enter into their lives. Fortunately, my son’s state of mind is improving every day. We have been blessed with several people helping both of us cope. Cedars at Cobble Hill has provided me with counselling. My son has also been fortunate to have some guidance from someone who has gone through recovery at a residential treatment centre and has had the opportunity to attend AA meetings to meet other recovered addicts. These connections are essential.
My son has completed his intake for residential treatment. And although he is not yet in the doors, I feel a positive change in him and know we will get there when the time is right for him. In the end, no matter what we do, it is the person challenged with substance abuse disorder who needs to want sobriety. However, if the services are not available to them when they request it and if getting to treatment is a challenge, then that hope they have for recovery may be lost.
I connected with Leslie McBain, Co-Founder of Moms Stop the Harm, a network of Canadian families who have been affected by the opioid crisis.
“Around the topic of treatment, first of all, there needs to be more availability of all kinds of treatment,” McBain said. “That would include residential treatment, day treatment, counsellors with addictions education, more addictions doctors to see patients and prescribe a safe supply. The thing about treatment is that every person is different, every person’s needs around recovery are different, and they must be met where they’re at in terms of their substance use disorder. So, it should all be available, and the assessment should include the kind of treatment a person thinks will be successful for them. At the present time there is not enough widespectrum treatment available in the capacity that is needed.”
More availability is key. I acknowledge those in health care on the frontlines and appreciate the people out on the street fighting for those who are suffering from substance abuse disorder. I know that the staff at the OATS clinics are doing their best with the resources they have. My son’s OATS doctor is wonderful, caring, and kind. I know that no one is intentionally leaving someone behind to die of an overdose or to suffer in any way. Unfortunately, we are now in a position where the demand for help is greater than what is being provided.
When I think of all the things my son will miss in life if he does not recover from substance use disorder, I am heartbroken. All I want for him is a chance to experience what life could be if he could just see outside of the dark hole he is in: a life with a satisfying job or career, a chance to fall in love again and have his own family, the opportunity to see the world and travel. I want him to have a life where he wakes up in the morning and doesn’t worry about finding his next fix.
Through my story, I hope that the decision makers both at the provincial and federal level will see that we need to work together in giving those who suffer from substance use disorder a second chance at life that includes a quality-of-life worth living. There should be no waitlists for help, and those who find themselves homeless because of addiction should be treated with dignity, with housing, and all addiction and mental health resources available to those in need, immediately. For resources to this article visit our website www.savingearthmagazine.com. u
Brother Friend
Son
Uncle Father
Because it could be your loved one.
Have you lost a loved one to substance use related harms?
Are you supporting a loved one who is struggling?
Moms Stop the Harm (MSTH) is a network of Canadian families impacted by substance-use related harms and deaths. We advocate to change failed drug policies and provide peer support to grieving families and those with loved ones who use or have used substances.
For further information regarding our organization and support to families visit our website.
www.momsstoptheharm.com
Volcanoes (from the Latin word Vulcānus, Vulcan, the god of fire in Roman mythology), for generations have been of great fascination to humans. From the impressive postcards of Fujiyama, Mount Teide, Kilimanjaro, or Cotopaxi to the stories about Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii, passing through the beauty of the telescopes at the top of Mauna Kea, the rivers of lava coming out of the Kilauea, or the columns of smoke on Etna or Popocatepetl, volcanoes are around us and intrigue us.
A volcano is much more than lava and gas eruptions. All the chemical compounds emitted during an eruption, despite destroying plantations and forests, contribute to plants and microorganisms with fundamental minerals, such as iron, magnesium, potassium, and calcium. The plants that will be cultivated or grow in these soils will become a food source for animals and finally for humans, forming a benefit chain provided by these geological formations.
Volcanic eruptions can also affect climate. Volcanic gases like sulfur dioxide can cause global cooling, while volcanic carbon dioxide has the potential to hasten global warming. In fact, volcanic activity throughout history has contributed to the formation of the atmosphere and the development of life.
It is also important to note that volcanic ecosystems (even when they are calm and eruptions don’t occur) have unique properties that can generate renewable energy through heat, which is called geothermal energy.
Volcanoes are great attractions for ecotourism; therefore, they have become an important source of income for communities that live near them and even for countries’ economies. In Guatemala, the Pacaya volcano is one of its greatest attractions, not only because of its proximity to Guatemala City and Antigua, Guatemala, but also due to its constant volcanic activity.
This volcano remained dormant for a century until it erupted violently in 1965 and it has been active ever since. The people living in communities at the top of the volcano, such as San Francisco de Sales, Concepción el Cedro, El Patrocinio, El Rodeo, Los Pocitos, and Laguna Calderas, work as guides, horsemen, snacks and souvenirs sellers, park rangers, and guards, and their economy is based on ecotourism. But at the same time, they are at a daily risk of eminent catastrophe.
The Pacaya volcano is a complex group made of several strongly fractured cusps and complicated structures. There are two cinder cones that were active in historical times (The Cerro Chino and the “Inactive Cone”) and one current active cone called “The Mackenney Cone”. Much of its erupting activity is Strombolian and occasionally Plinian.
In Strombolian eruptions, the eruptive column reaches heights that vary from one to 15 km. They are characterized by rhythmic explosions, separated by periods that vary from less than a second to several hours. These eruptions are driven by gas bubble bursts within the magma, and the lava formed is a relatively viscous basaltic lava. Its final product is mostly scoria.
In a Plinian eruption, the magma has an acidic composition and a high gas content, producing eruptive columns that reach heights greater than 30 km. The emitted materials can affect large areas and can even generate changes in the planet’s temperature. During these eruptions, voluminous falls of lapilli, pumice, and ash are generated, as well as pyroclastic flows of pumice and ash (ignimbrites). As an example of these types of eruptions, we can cite the explosion of the volcano Vesuvius in 79 AD, which buried the city of Pompeii.
I have had a close relationship with the Pacaya volcano since I was a young kid. I had the opportunity to visit it for the first time when I was 12 years old, and then again at 18 with a visiting cousin, who brought the first digital camera I’d ever seen (it stored the images on a floppy disk). On that occasion, on our way up we were accompanied by a dog from a village. We arrived at sunset. The volcano had a fumarole, and I threw myself on the ground and took a picture of the dog with the volcano’s crater as background. At that precise moment, I decided that I wanted to publish a photograph in National Geographic magazine, and years later I achieved one of my dreams as a photographer. Currently, I have more than 50 stories published in the Latin American edition of National Geographic and National Geographic Traveler magazines.
From that moment on, I began visiting the volcano more often, and during these journeys I analyzed how the communities that are close to the crater are constantly at high risk.
In 2010, Storm Agatha shook Guatemala tremendously, causing major flooding throughout the country. On those same days, the Pacaya volcano erupted violently, throwing ash all the way to Guatemala City, about 40 km away.
At that moment, I decided to go with my car towards the crater and document the situation. A drive that would normally take one hour took me over ten hours because the highways were collapsed by mud landslides and floods and the traffic was completely stopped. Thanks to my 4x4 Jeep, I managed to overcome all kinds of obstacles. Even when starting to drive at the bottom of the volcano, the road was transformed into a strong river coming downhill, carrying rocks and big logs, which I had to avoid. I felt like I was in a Hollywood movie.
When arriving at the first village, Concepción del Cedro, I was totally shocked. All the houses’ tin roofs were pierced by rocks from the volcanic explosion. People were devastated, sad, and hopeless. The excessive quantity of water from the storm poured directly into the houses, flooding all the rooms and leaving the villagers cold, wet, and without food. When I entered the kitchen of a small house, I found an old woman. She had this very sad expression, and you could see all the suffering in her face. I took her picture, but when I returned home and edited it, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and all those people who needed help so badly. I just couldn’t sleep the whole night. So, the next day I decided to call my friends to help collect food, toys, and clothes, and then I took them to these communities.
I didn’t collect much for the first trip, but I continued with the same task every two or three days for two weeks, and each time I gathered more and more resources to carry. Each trip took me hours to arrive. I then made the distribution within an hour—people just piled up in the car trying to grab something to eat—and then returned home. As well as Concepción el Cedro, we took help to other communities in need, such as Patrocinio, San Francisco de Sale, and El Rodeo. In the end, we managed to bring lots of help, and we stopped only when the help from the government began to arrive.
Last year brought all the problems related to the COVID-19 pandemic. Due to the lockdown decreed by the government, the volcano park was closed for months and local people were greatly affected by not having income from tourism. At this point, I decided to do something to help. I sold some of my fine art photographs on the internet, offering a big discount. In a matter of two weeks, it was possible to collect enough money to buy and take food for 120 families for a week, including the families of the more than 60 registered guides and for people in precarious and difficult situations, such as the elderly and widows. This is when I met Edgar Rodríguez, director of the Pacaya Volcano National Park, who helped us with delivery logistics.
According to park statistics, in 2019 the park had 96,432 tourists, generating a Q. 3,215,960.00 (US$ 412,000) income for the San Vicente Pacaya municipality administration. This type of income does not directly benefit the affected communities. San Vicente Pacaya (the main town) is also a community in the volcano region, but far away from the explosions. Most of the money is used for municipality administration purposes and for paying the park staff’s payroll. The rest is delivered to INGUAT (Guatemalan Tourism Institute), CONAP (Guatemalan National Protected Areas Council), and INAB (Guatemalan National Forest Institute). But there is no money designated to help the communities of the volcano. In other words, the communities near the crater do not directly benefit from the park’s income. Edgar comments that he is trying to find financing sources to acquire ambulances.
During the COVID food delivery, I asked Edgar to introduce me to the bravest guide he knew so I could make a short documentary for my YouTube channel about getting near to the eruptions. The aim was to bring more tourism to the volcano in the future. This was when I met Jose Quezada, my current guide.
Recently, the volcano violently erupted again, throwing ashes that reached Guatemala City. Luckily, this time it didn’t throw rocks as large as those that flew in the 2010 eruption. CONRED (National Coordinator for Disaster Reduction) closed the park for tourists for almost two months, but local people were not evacuated. In this case, I obtained special permits from Edgar, the park director, to document this activity. At first, I went to photograph the volcano from a helicopter—a very dangerous task since ashes can enter the helicopter’s turbine. Then I went with José Quezada to document the explosions from the ground. When I arrived by land, there were rocks about an inch long already falling into the communities.
Heading up to the crater, I asked José why he lived near the volcano and what living there meant to him. “For me, the volcano represents an income that benefits me, a benefit from tourism, but is risky in the long run,” he said. “I already lost my house in 2010, with [Storm] Agatha and the eruption that took place. It caused a lot of damage to many families, but we continue to fight because of the benefit of tourism.”
When I asked him about COVID, José said, “The pandemic affected us guides for more than a year. It affected me a lot, because only in the first month of the pandemic I already had 30 groups booked that just left. They [the municipality] closed everything and people did not come for a long time, and in the long run we are still fighting to put food on our tables.” According to official records, the income of the park from tourism in 2020 was almost a third of its 2019 revenue.
We kept climbing up the volcano. There were big rivers of lava. I saw a small crater being formed nearby. We waited for it to get dark, so that the light from the lava would stand out and we could take better
pictures. While we were waiting, I kept inquiring about his current situation. He told me that the people of the community had been without income for more than a month because of the constant strong volcanic activity.
“Right now, there are no fields to work in, the volcanic ash has destroyed all the crops,” he said. “Right now, there is nothing to work for. I managed to get some money working for the municipality. The municipality is paying me Q. 1,495 (less than US$ 200) for working 15 days per month. I work one day and rest one day, I work three days and rest the other three. I work doing a bit of everything, I work as a guardian, as a forest ranger, attending tourists, but there aren’t any right now.”
He commented that this was the half of what he earned before, because the municipality of San Vicente was paying half of what used to pay. “The municipality is paying me less to give work to more people,” he explained. “They cut half of our salary to hire twice the staff and help others. The problem is that if you protest or say something about that, they will kick you off. I am grateful because coming with you, I’ll have an extra income. Otherwise, I’ll be completely screwed up.”
Despite the situation, Jose is optimistic: “Soon the park will be open, and everything will rebound again,” he said. “Because people will come to see the lava and we will have work again!”
On those days, the lava rivers grew a lot and farms located on the slopes of the volcano were covered by lava. The lava destroyed everything in its path. These farms are located outside the park administered area, yet the lava attracted the attention of many national tourists
who were in search of the experience of being near it. This madness lasted three days, and then the entrance to these farms was closed by the same municipality.
When I went to these farms, I managed to interview Gabriel Orellana, son of the owner of the Campo Alegre farm. He told me, “We are very sorry that the municipality hasn’t helped us at all. We haven’t even received moral support from them. We are just charging a fee for entering our farm that has been destroyed. The fee is to have a little income to offset our losses. But the municipality doesn’t let us work. They’ve closed the entrance and sent us a notification that they were going to close this side, but not the park itself. Despite that, we will continue working. Now the municipality has closed the road to enter here and is diverting tourists to the park. We lost five hectares of land, including coffee plantations, pastures, and grasslands for cattle. This is what we live from, and we need this to live the rest of the year.”
The administration of the park states that these people want to charge for the entrance to their farms, but that the income is only for them and not for the park. The administration takes the position that even if the farm is not in the park, it is part of the volcano, and therefore the municipality should also receive money for it. Otherwise, they will stop receiving income from tourists.
For those living in the Pacaya, it’s a daily fight between subsistence and survival. Taking advantage of the volcano’s resources comes with risk. El Pacaya is a natural wonder—for many synonymous with adventure but for others just a way to put food on their tables no matter the risk. u
BY CORDELIA NEWLIN DE ROJAS, PHOTOS COURTESY OF CHOCOLATE CONCIERGE
Meet Ning-Geng Ong, founder of Chocolate Concierge, a Malaysian-based chocolate company. Ten years ago, Ong found his way to chocolate via micro-brewing while searching through active home-brewing community pages. He came across two sites that, unbeknownst to him, would completely alter his life’s path. They were John Nancy’s Chocolate Alchemy and This Chocolate Life. Here he learned that it was possible to make chocolate with simple home appliances.
The first time Ong made chocolate, he was blown away by the simplicity of the process and how delicious it tasted. His wife Melissa and his paternal grandma helped through the entire process, and once he tasted the chocolate they had made together, he was hooked by this new hobby.
He delved deeper and learned how chocolate is similar to wine: just as wine can use grapes from one or multiple regions, chocolate can use cacao sourced from a single or multiple regions. Cacao beans are affected by their terroir (environment), just like wine grapes. He explained that where the beans are grown, in what climate, which varietals, what the soil nutrition looks like, and how the plantation is managed will affect the flavour of the chocolate.
Food production wasn’t new to Ong. He grew up immersed in it, thanks to his parents’ pastry and baking supply store. Upon his return from the United States where he attended university and worked in educational application development, he settled on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, where he and his American-born wife planted a garden full of edible plants. Here, he began to wonder why, given Malaysia’s perfect climate for cacao, no one had ever developed a Malaysian single-origin chocolate.
This provided him with the clear, wide growing region and space for the fermentation process, ensuring he could perfect his methodology and produce repeated batches at the same level of quality.
Though Ong does grow cacao on his farm, it is primarily a postharvest processing facility. Two minutes down the road, Ong discovered a boarding school attended by local Indigenous Orang Asli children. Being neighbours, Ong and his family developed a relationship with the families as they came to collect and drop off their kids, and soon he discovered that the Orang Asli were cultivating cacao in the forest nearby without the use of pesticides.
He started calling local producers and asking each of them the same questions, “Do you produce chocolate?” They all answered yes. “Do you make it with Malaysian cocoa?” Here, the answer was a unanimous “No.” And when he asked them why, there was no good answer.
Ong enrolled himself in a cacao brewing course run by the Malaysian Cocoa Board. His goal wasn’t to learn to brew but to find the farmers who were growing cacao beans locally. He spent the course going from table to table collecting names to build a network.
The first step to making chocolate is the fermentation of the beans. Without this critical step, the cacao is too bitter to consume. Ong found that he would receive initial samples that would make a great batch of chocolate, but when he ordered more beans, he couldn’t reliably replicate the outcomes. The fermentation methodology wasn’t maintained, which led to hit and miss results.
He realized that to maintain a consistent and high quality, he would have to ferment his own beans and so, four years into his journey, he took that leap and bought a farm in the state of Pahang.
When he shared his discovery with other growers, they simply did not believe him. They assured him that as soon as his back was turned, the Orang Asli must be using pesticides or fumigation by setting fires across the forest to smoke out the pests. This seemed improbable to Ong, simply because it would be hard to set 20 fires in the dark, in the jungle, at a site only accessible via a walking trail.
Determined to prove his point, Ong, his wife, and their two young boys got permission from the local chief to live with them for a week and observe how they tended their cacao crops. Every day he would follow his designated host into the jungle and observe how he worked. Ong soon created a checklist of factors including, genetics, variety, altitude, other species, soil nutrition, and pruning methods. One thing stood out: their growing approach was one of agroforestry. They plant different species side by side unlike mono-cropping, which requires intensive, expensive, and toxic weed killers, fungicides, and pesticides. The Orang Asli method is overall much more efficient. Yes, their crops are still affected by pests, but this is mild by comparison and doesn’t severely impact the yield of their crops. For the same amount of land, they may sacrifice 30 percent of their cacao crop by making space for other species, but in addition to cacao, they also harvest mangosteens, ginger, bananas, and pineapples. The loss to pests that Ong observed was less than five percent with zero use of pesticides. In short, the food forests are thriving.
It makes sense. If you have a large field of any given crop with plants on a grid more than 100 plants across, you are creating a buffet for the pests. “Once they catch the scent, they can effortlessly drift from plant to plant, frolicking, laying eggs, and devouring to their tiny insect hearts’ content,” Ong says. “When you mix your crops, not only do the pests have to overcome a mixture of different plants but the other plants naturally attract other animals, often predators such as lizards, birds, and frogs who prey on the original
pest. The other trees will not share the same vulnerabilities, so though you get some pests, they will never end up destroying 90 percent of your crop.”
Nature is very effective at population control. Ong decided to follow suit and put this into practice on his own farm.
It takes time and effort to plan your biodiverse forest. Ong found that often when growers claimed their plantations supported biodiversity, they would actually have a monoculture over 60 acres and then plant one acre of other fruit trees for their own consumption and label this ‘biodiverse’.
Given the skepticism he had faced, Ong knew he would need to create a pilot project in order to persuade other cacao growers to follow suit and move towards more sustainable growing practices.
For their farm, Ong and his family decided to work on a 1:1 ratio. In 2019, they were able to kick off their reforestation project with the help of The Forest Research Institute of Malaysia (FRIM). They were able to source threatened and endangered species that had been matured in a nursery and, with the help of volunteers, they planted 1,000 trees to match their 1,000 cacao plants.
“Using a drone, we can already see the difference before and after the reforestation and it is early days yet,” Ong explains. “The FRIM trees are a mixture of mostly canopy and sub-canopy species, some of which are dipterocarps. It will take time before we achieve a mature multi-layered canopy.”
One of the surprising discoveries they made is that even when they overlapped their trees, where logic dictated that the cacao plant would do better standing alone on the 3 m x 3 m grid, they actually found that the cacao thrived when their banana grid overlapped in some places, leaving these two plants 15 cm apart.
One day while browsing in a specialty store, Ong found himself chatting with a woman who turned out to be a buyer for an Irish specialty craft grocer. She asked him if he had any of his chocolate on him. Upon tasting it, she bought all 10 kg of stock available.
Shortly after, Ong invited Chef Darren Teoh, whose restaurant Dewakan was the first Malaysian restaurant to be featured in “Asia’s 50 Best”, into his test kitchen. Ong admired Teoh as he knew he was a pioneer of the locavore farm-to-table movement. After tasting the chocolate, Teoh asked Ong to set aside his entire stock for him. This was the turning point when Ong knew it was time to ditch the safety net and leave computer science behind. In January 2018, he made Chocolate Concierge his full-time business.
Sustainable is a term much bandied about and, truthfully, it sometimes does not mean much. Few companies truly embrace sustainability at every possible level, and even for those who do, there is always room for improvement. Ning-Geng Ong is a man who is trying his best to embrace sustainability without compromising on quality.
He is now working with three different Orang Asli communities, [Temuan (Pahang), Semai (Pahang), and Temiar (Perak)] who supply him with 80 percent of his cacao beans. These are delivered fresh daily. For the rest, he has found a grower who uses bio-control by intercropping cacao and coconuts. Coconuts attract black ants, and
the cocoa pod borer does not like these ants. All it takes is one ant on a cacao pod to keep the borer away.
He has also tackled packaging, supplying zero waste bulk food stores with chocolate wrapped in leaves while his retail bars are wrapped in paper. No plastic, no foil. The key here is never breaking the cold chain.
Ong’s original goal was to create a single-origin Malaysian chocolate, and he has knocked that one out of the park. For the last five years, the Malaysian barista champion sent to compete on the world stage has used Ong’s chocolate to compete in the category of hot chocolate. This year, he will be supplying three restaurants featured on the “Asia’s 50 Best” list. This is a tremendous sign of recognition, and industry buy-in has catapulted him toward achieving his latest goal: for Malaysians to recognize that if they want excellent chocolate, they need not import it.
Unfazed by the competition, Ong hopes to make every chocolate grower and maker consider the ecologically sound approaches to growing chocolate that he has learned from the Orang Asli. He has created an association of chocolate makers to share best practices because he believes if he is going to engage the consumer, he will need to get more commercial allies on board.
We know chocolate first made its way across the Atlantic to Spain, though various people have been credited with bringing back this “discovery.” What we are certain of is that once it landed on Spanish shores, it was quick to spread across Europe and was a luxury item enjoyed by the upper classes. Thanks to various innovations, the cost eventually came down and chocolate was made available to the masses. u
The Olmecs are generally credited with the discovery, but the Maya were the first to write about it. The Maya and Aztecs believed the cacao bean a gift from the gods. The former enjoyed it in all households and made it into a frothy drink adding water, honey, and chili while the Aztecs revered it and considered it more valuable than gold. They used it as a form of currency and made it into a bitter, grainy, celebratory drink consumed in honour of their deities.
A locavore is a person whose diet consists of principally of locally grown or produced food. Jessica Prentice coined the term in 2005 after reading about an agricultural ecologist’s experiment to eat foods harvested within a 250mile radius for the duration of one year. The term earned notoriety in 2007 when it was chosen as Oxford’s Word of the Year.
BY KAY THELLOT - MANBO
ASONGWE, PUBLIC SPEAKER, FOUNDER OF PRENSIP MINOKAN, AND COLLABORATOR WITH TRADITIONS POUR LE FUTUR
Ayiti, Vodou, Nature, and the Lwa
People of Haiti performing a ceremony to show their devotion to their ancestors and various lwa spirits. REUTERS/Alamy
How do we hear the call of our Ancestors, our Zansèt? There is a process. It starts by communing with the natural elements. Nature is the vector by which I hear the voices of my Zansèt. I hear the call by taking in Nature and soaking it in my body, or by submitting to it, like when I let myself sink to the bottom of a lake. Or again, when eyes closed, I throw my head back and swing as high as I can. In these moments, I reach for that space, that place where all is still, between consciousnesses. A place so perfectly still, I can hear birds in the forest begin to sing again, as if my stillness signals that I am no longer an intruder, that I have entered a space of immersion instead of visitor.
I watch the sheen of my skin under the sun’s rays, a sheen amplified by a thin slick of sweat. I am in the moment. I feel like Nature’s daughter. This communion with Nature is the doorway to fractals of the Divine, of the Source (Lwa). These fractals that are Lwa are like whitelight’s rainbow spectrum. The subtleties of how the Lwa are intertwined with the Land evades me, but They are here. They dwell deep within all that vibrates on this planet and in this Universe.
VODOU AYISYEN - HAITIAN VODOUVodou Ayisyen is an Afro-Indigenous Haitian practice that integrates the traditions of the peoples that collided through the barbary of colonialism. Centering African ancestral frameworks, Vodou Ayisyen also integrates sacred knowledge from the Indigenous Nation of the Taìno (Caribbean), Christians, and Freemasons. The practice of Vodou Ayisyen is a purposeful act of resistance against colonial and Western oppression. In Ayiti (Indigenous spelling of Haiti), Vodou is a dynamic act of sovereignty over the African body and experience.
It is a response to colonial and neoimperial assaults against an individual’s and a collective’s very sense of personhood. Newly arrived African peoples took justice into their own hands, by escaping the plantations or marooning, and rebuilding their spiritual connection with Nature and the Unseen. In doing this, Africans asserted their personal agency in a system that actively repressed this.
Receiving co-stewardship of the Land from the original Indigenous Peoples acknowledges that to rebuild their pharmacopeia, Africans learned about the local plants from, and exchanged their use of plants with, the Taìno. To be co-stewards of the Land with the Taìno
also meant further resisting oppression by maintaining the worldview that honours the life of all that lives, of all that vibrates.
Vodou is more than a set of exotic rituals. I also seek to challenge the racist view that Vodou is a backward sacrilege against all that is righteous and civilized, and that it pertains only to the sacred. Vodou Ayisyen offers a unique space to fight for human dignity and justice, for Nature and the energies that it bears. Vodou is a philosophical framework that articulates how we are called to relate with the All that surrounds us. Vodou proposes that the Sacred operates in all facets of Life because Life itself is sacred. Thus, Life is meant to be upheld and defended. Vodou is about social justice. Vodou is about nurturing Nature.
“Vodou is about social justice. Vodou is about nurturing Nature.”
Trees are the repozwa of the Lwa: spaces in Nature where the Lwa will choose to dwell and make their presence known to us. All matter has its own vibrational imprint: stones, bodies of water, animals, plants, and people. Based on a tree’s imprint, the Lwa will decide to dwell within it if their respective energies are compatible.
Caring for trees that serve as repozwa implies singing, dancing, feeding, and honouring the Lwa within them. Because of the interconnectedness and interdependence between all forms of life, Vodou Ayisyen is inherently conservationist. The ecological balance of where the Vodou practitioner (Vodouizan) lives is essential to working with the energy of the Universe that surrounds us, and preserving its balance safeguards ours.
Gran Bwa is the Lwa that connects us to knowledge of trees, leaves, root work, and our lineage—our blood, social, and initiatory lines. More tangibly, our traditional healing practices are profoundly rooted in Nature. Without the leaves, herbs, flowers, and roots necessary to prepare remedies, entire treatment options would be lost. Local efforts to preserve this have been weakened due to years of Western NGOs and institutional interventions. Considering the lack of access to affordable and culturally sensitive medical care, these ancestral modes of care are often the only trusted choice available. Consequently, preserving our ancestral pharmacy is essential to maintaining our options for wellness.
The Lwa Loko Atissou and Ayizan Velekete are the guardians of ancestral knowledge and of initiatory rites in Haitian Vodou. The orality of Vodou and the body being in the center of the Vodou experience, transmitting information through oral tradition makes knowledge available to everyone and challenges the notions of illiteracy versus intelligence. Human contact is the primary vehicle for
the transmission of our ethnocultural identity in a form that makes it difficult to control by oppressive forces. Coding initiatory information, translating it into our sacred geometry (the Vèvè) archiving our history in ancestral chants, transmitting interpersonal wisdom through generations with our proverbs, riddles, and comedy, are all ways of democratizing the process of creating meaning as a collective and accessing that knowledge system as an individual.
Western ways of knowing are often hierarchized as more scientific than local vernacular. In terms of social justice and decolonizing how we think about knowledge, Vodou Ayisyen offers interesting ways of connecting with how we know things, but risks being lost in the globalization of Western thought and being taken for granted as standard. Living Vodou is living our ancestors’ heritage through the body and experience.
In Vodou thought, animals as totems touch on both social justice and being stewards of Nature. Just like in any ecosystem, the health of the social fabric depends on the balance between the roles, responsibilities, and needs of everyone. In other words, I can seek the highest quality of life for myself as long as I don’t interfere with the integrity of others’, Nature’s, and the Universe’s path and form. Otherwise, social relationships suffer, the land flora and fauna are depleted, and ultimately, the Zansèt and the Lwa will communicate the imbalance and require restoration.
In Vodou Ayisyen, animals and their associated qualities inspire the wisdom and the symbolism they embody. Serpents, bulls, lizards, hummingbirds, spiders, marine life, butterflies, and moths: all animals and their respective dwellings connect the Vodouizan with the properties of the totems. Also, each totem is in place to support our spiritual ecosystem as individuals and as a collective. Consequently, when we offer an animal during our rituals, we ask them for permission. If they don’t grant it according to the protocols of the ritual at hand, we cannot take that animal’s life.
Once we have offered the necessary sections of the animal, we share the rest with anyone available to eat—devotees and people passing by. Ancestrally, we would eat meat according to the celebratory cycle of the year. For instance, if we are not celebrating a Lwa related to bovine, we don’t eat beef. Rather, we buy, sell, and barter the animals with people in the city who eat meat more according to Western habits. Preparing food for the less fortunate, allowing children to eat first, the person offering the meal eats last, eating meat according to the celebratory cycles of the year—all of these protocols around sharing food are rooted in the value that wellness and healing are incomplete and worthless if they operate separate from other people and beings. Ignoring or even abusing our foundational Vodou values of interconnectivity and interdependence actually harms the social ecosystem, our relationship with our Zansèt, and ultimately, fragments pieces of ourselves away, dehumanizing us.
After Haitian independence in 1804, the plantation system was rebuked as a relic of the oppressive slave regime of the colony. Here, the socioeconomic stratifications of the colonial era continued into post-independence. For the elites, the project of Ayiti as a republic focused their aspirations towards pleasing the gaze of Western values. On the other hand, the African masses relied on Vodou to build a parallel socioeconomically sovereign project: the Lakou system, a form of farming and livestock cooperative.
Centering Vodou’s ethic and the Lwa Kouzen Azaka Mede (the mystery of agriculture and harvest), the Lakou is where a handful of families live together on a piece of land big enough to include a Peristil (Vodou temple) in its center. Together, this community shares, barters, and financially supports each other through the Konbit. The Lakou, Konbit, and Vodou ethics apply to justice, child rearing, elder care, and every facet of life. This demonstrates how Vodou transcends religion and asserts itself as a way of life. Vodou has aided the Ayisyen (Haitien) popular masses in empowering themselves over generations, through grassroots organizing of everyday life.
Organizations like the Fondation Julia & Jade in the south of Ayiti, directed by Ms. Paul, still rely on Vodou, Lakou, and Konbit frameworks to organize agro-sustainability, literacy, and social programs to serve the local community. However, the dignity of these organizations is chronically trampled on by a glib government and oppressive international forces. Ms. Paul has received anonymous calls, threats against herself and her children, and psychological pressure under the guise of advice. Her community work has been politicized, and she has been presented as a “formal” political opposition—implying political responsibilities that she does not ascribe to as a community organizer. She has also received invitations to meetings presented under false pretenses where she experienced intimidation from government officials seeking to accommodate foreign organizations’ interest.
The international response to the devastation experienced in the south of Ayiti after Hurricane Matthew in 2016 is one example of international forces that thwart grassroots efforts to self-determination and sufficiency. Ms. Paul confirmed that locals were not consulted in elaborating NGO action in the area. NGO interventions did not seek to restructure the local pre-Hurricane Matthew self-sustaining agricultural economy. Furthermore, the NGOs involved in the post- Hurricane Matthew response distributed hybrid seeds that cannot reproduce. This single action imposed a dependency on the foreign seed providers that hijacked local community efforts to rebuild Ayiti’s economic self-sufficiency and food security.
As an initiated daughter of the Lwa, I am called a Manbo. My hope is to share how working with the Lwa intersects with defending the spaces to support our intimate relationship with Nature, the Land, and with the Zansèt. As a result, being a steward of Nature also means caring for the wellbeing of my community, which ultimately cycles back to ensuring my own.
The tradition to self-determination, which asserts sovereignty, and being empowered to redefine individual and collective identities into the Ayisyen nationhood, survives today through Vodou thought and ethics. The sacred geometry of the Vèvè Minokan (a Vèvè that integrates the entire Vodou pantheon and all related energies into a single unit of sacred geometry/ancestral calligraphy) points to important principles in Vodou: balance, interconnectedness, and integration. Applied to social justice and ecology, Minokan challenges Western values of individuality, fragmentation, compartmentalization, and pathologization.
Exploring Vodou Ayisyen’s philosophy and ethnospiritual heritage reveals a framework for resisting oppression. This work—my Zansèt and my work—ultimately seeks to uphold the Vodou position as a decolonized Afro-Indigenous approach to safeguarding human dignity and the environment. u
BY KAYLA BRUCE (GREEN OKANAGAN)
SHAYNE MEECHAN (GREEN OKANAGAN)
BRITTANY BRUCE (BEE POSITIVE COUNSELLING)
What comes to mind when you think about the climate crisis? How does it make you feel?
Extreme weather events. Environmental disasters. Carbon pollution. Thinking about the climate crisis leaves many of us feeling out of control and overwhelmed.
In 2017, the rise of these negative feelings driven by environmental thoughts led to the American Psychological Association defining a new term to bring awareness to the issue: eco anxiety.
“Eco anxiety refers to a chronic fear of environmental doom.” – American Psychological Association
Eco anxiety, also known as climate anxiety, causes symptoms similar to other forms of anxiety, such as depression, feelings of helplessness, trouble sleeping, and restlessness. Along with the traditional symptoms of anxiety, people who are feeling the effects of eco anxiety can also have trouble defining personal values, making decisions related to the environment, and regulating their emotions after hearing about environmental issues.
Ecopsychology is a branch of mental health research that studies the impact of the environment on human identity, resilience, and overall wellness. Recent research has shown the negative impact of environmental changes on mental health, using the terms “eco trauma” and “eco grief”.
Eco trauma is the psychological impact of the changes in our relationships with the environment. Eco grief is the feeling of loss resulting from the climate crisis.
Around the world, many Indigenous communities are struggling with eco trauma and eco grief because of the impacts of the climate crisis. Increasingly, environmental changes have contributed to the loss of natural foods and resources, impacting traditional ways of life. Many Indigenous communities have lived in peaceful harmony with the natural environment since time in memorium. However, the impact of the climate crisis has made it increasingly difficult for communities to live off the land and sustain their traditional lifestyles. In many cases, this has resulted in anxiety over the sustainability of food and traditional resources, which can be considered a form of eco trauma. The loss of autonomy, sustainability, and traditional ways of life can also induce the psychological response of eco grief.
It’s important to recognize that eco anxiety disproportionately impacts some more than others. Communities that are most vulnerable include:
• Indigenous, Black, and Persons of Colour communities
• Communities with limited resources/lower socioeconomic status
• Those whose employment relies on the environment (i.e., fisherpersons, tourism)
• Seniors, children, and youth
• Those living with chronic health issues
These feelings can be overwhelming, but by gaining a better understanding of where they come from, we can develop coping skills to manage them. When we start feeling anxious, we can slow the pace using exercises and practices that help us self-regulate.
A great place to start is by trying a simple breathing exercise, like bee breathing:
1. Slowly breathe in through your nose.
2. Breathe out through your mouth, buzzing like a bee as you do so.
3. Repeat three or four times until you feel grounded.
Another coping skill you can try is getting outside and observing your surroundings in a natural place, such as a nearby forest or com-
munity garden. If you aren’t able to go outside, consider listening to nature sounds through Youtube or Spotify. As you indulge and appreciate nature, ask yourself:
1. What do I notice?
2. Where am I? In a green space or in the middle of an urban area?
3. What sounds do I hear?
4. How do the sounds of nature make me feel?
These coping skill exercises can be used when you’re experiencing eco anxiety, eco grief, or eco trauma.
An important step to managing eco anxiety is reframing your mindset. Instead of thinking about the things you can’t control, focus on what you can control. You don’t have to solve the climate crisis all by yourself, but you can make changes in your own life that will have a positive impact on the present and future of our planet.
Here are three actions you can take today to be a Climate Ally:
1. Get Educated - Eco anxiety can be triggered by events we see on the news, posts on social media, or conversations. It’s important to listen, but also fact-check the information using reliable sources. The spread of misinformation can contribute to unnecessary stress. Be sure to use reliable sources to educate yourself. Weed out the myths from the facts and strengthen your understanding of the issues.
2. Get Involved - Start volunteering your time, donate to a cause, or join a local group. Whichever avenue you take, getting involved can help spark inspiration within yourself and your community, leading to greater, greener change. Have you joined the Green Okanagan Facebook Group yet?
3. Get Loud - You’ll be surprised by how far your voice can travel. Talking to your friends, family, and local government can have a huge impact on the policies, actions, and progress made in your community. Use your voice and encourage others to do the same.
Be intentional with your thoughts, actions, and questions. Focus on small areas you feel passionate about, breaking down simple goals that are achievable. Here are a few examples to get you inspired!
• Love animals? Try adopting a plant-forward diet. Start by looking up vegan recipes that sound delicious. From there, pick a goal like “Meatless Mondays”.
• Love running? Give “plogging ” a try! Bring gloves and a bag with you next time you’re out and pick up litter you see along your path.
The journey to becoming a Climate Ally is a road best travelled with friends. Find a support system, club, or group of people you feel comfortable with and start the conversation.
Feelings of eco anxiety can be overwhelming. Know you’re not alone. Small steps like simple breathing exercises and working towards small, achievable green goals will go a long way in easing your eco anxiety. u
GREEN OKANAGAN, or GO for short, is a volunteer-led registered non-profit organization based in the beautiful Okanagan, in Canada. Our mandate is to progress sustainability from an individual level. By sharing our own experiences and easy to implement tips and tricks, we hope to empower you to make smart consumer choices and adapt your lifestyle to improve your overall sustainability.
We break it down in an approachable way, with simple and affordable solutions anyone can implement. Join our online community for free resources that’ll help you simplify your life and improve your sustainability.
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The country road from Penticton into the Village of Naramata winds geographically and metaphorically—Okanagan Lake glistens in view, draped in her ever-changing colours as you pass verdant vineyards, opulent orchards, and craggy cliffs, and as you approach, a feeling of magic creeps into your being. There are even colourful resident peacocks roaming the village.
It’s easy to see why people have affectionately dubbed Naramata ‘The Shire’, as in J.R.R. Tolkien’s book The Hobbit. Life is pleasant here, with residents enjoying nature’s bounty, including produce from gardens and orchards and wine, spirits, and craft beer from wineries, distilleries, and breweries.
The Shire’s citizens are protective of their slice of paradise, coming together to enhance and steward their realm. A lot gets done in a population of around 2,000, which grows exponentially during tourist season.
A tale of Okanagan dwellers—First Nations, then fur traders, miners, beef ranchers, orchardists, railway personnel, and settlers, then artists, writers, recluses, vacationers, innkeepers, and retailers, and more recently, winemakers and filmmakers—paints Naramata’s history. Its name is thought to have surfaced in a séance held by settlement founder John Moore Robinson. Purportedly, a medium named Mrs. Gillespie connected with a local Chief’s spirit who spoke fondly of his wife “Narramattah” translated as “the smile of Manitou”.
Through considerable community effort, Narmata is one of only three communities in Canada to receive the Cittaslow designation from the International Cittaslow Society in Italy. When the initial drive lagged somewhat, folks gathered around a picnic table at the Village Grounds, a local coffee shop, to make the designation more dynamic. The first steps included forming the Naramata CittaSlow Society, creating a NaramataSlow social media presence, and planning a Long Table Dinner.
For over a dozen years, The Naramata Tailgate Party presented by the Naramata Bench Wineries Association was successful in attracting participants to experience the outstanding wine region; however, NaramataSlow had an added vision of a community celebration for its own citizens and longtime advocates.
Naramatians, as locals call themselves, lean to a less frenzied, thoughtful pace shaped by Mother Nature’s ebb and flow. In keeping with CittaSlow principles, decisions are community-driven with a genuine attitude to care about a balanced life where heritage, culture, the arts, environment, plus health and welfare of its citizens matter above all else.
Thus, with the cooperation of The Naramata Centre Society and the Regional District of Okanagan South (RDOS), the Long Table Dinner debuted as the NaramataSlow Harvest Supper in a beachside park in fall 2016. Potluck-style, each family contributed a dish consisting of “as many Naramata grown, raised, or sourced ingredients” as possible. Jay Drysdale and Wendy Rose, Bella Homestead Farm— home to fine boutique Bella Wines—contributed the highlight of the menu, a slow-roasted pork they raised and prepared. Talk about food made with pure love!
More food love is shared in The Preserve Exchange. Participants bring a jar of their home preserving and trade for one of their neighbours’ preserves. Festivities are bookmarked by wine tasting and live entertainment each year.
To make it weatherproof when forecasts threatened in the following years, the Harvest Supper was relocated indoors to Columbia Hall. When a more formidable adversary than weather arrived in the form of the COVID-19 pandemic, rather than sidelining the community event, NaramataSlow To Go was created. Your Harvest Supper Takeaway Box could be pre-ordered to enjoy the bounty of our lands, together, yet apart.
For more than 70 years, the beach setting of the first NaramataSlow Harvest Supper had been part of the United Church’s Naramata Centre, but this beautiful backdrop for Naramata residents and visitors alike was in jeopardy of becoming private property when, in 2020, the Centre was forced to sell some assets. The prospect of losing an inviting sandy beach, stunning lakeshore vistas, and mature trees, all of which played host to countless iconic Naramata memories, was intolerable for the community.
NaramataSlow sprang into action. Engaging the RDOS Area E representative, Karla Kozakevich, and the Naramata Centre Society, NaramataSlow structured a preservation agreement. Centre Beach comprises three parts—a north parcel, a south parcel, and a Ministry of Transportation right of way. Naramata Centre offered citizens the opportunity to take public ownership of the north parcel—a significant portion of Centre Beach—by offering a special price, favourable terms, and guaranteed first access to the south parcel and the right of way.
“Our extensive history of facilitating community, personal growth, and care aligns with the mission of our organization as well as that of NaramataSlow,” said Centre Board Chair Kathy Hamilton. “Partnering with the community to preserve Centre Beach for generations to come is exactly what we hope to achieve.”
Miranda Halladay, NaramataSlow chairperson, added, “Never has the importance of public spaces been more apparent to a generation than through the lens of 2020’s global pandemic, COVID-19.”
Early on, Jacquie Carlson, NaramataSlow treasurer, reported, “Responses to this public campaign have been heartening, leading us to cautious optimism. Reframing the goal to help individuals see their actions, commitment, and generosity can very much make a difference.”
If $850,00 were raised by October 31, the RDOS could access the balance through a municipal borrowing program. With that goal and having raised $400,000 through direct fundraising outreach, NaramataSlow launched a crowd-funding campaign to fund the gap. To reinforce the impact of each gift, donors received a green ribbon to display on their home or business.
November 1, 2020, marked the online donor campaign’s official close. The total reached $937,464, with every dollar reducing the amount of borrowing required by Area E taxpayers to finance the balance of the $1.7 million purchase price. Encouraged to save their green ribbons, contributors were invited to ‘repatriate’ them to Centre Beach. “Tie your ribbon to the fence, to a tree, to the dock, or to whatever surface speaks to you over the next month,” said the campaign organizers. The collective power of the “Little Village That Did” was on full display in green.
NaramataSlow hosts Seedy Saturday, bringing together experts and amateurs to focus on gardens and growing things. Given the event couldn’t proceed this year, 30 days of seedy tips, tricks, and inspiration were offered via its Instagram account. Tim Bouwmeester, the man
behind local Desert Flower Honey, kicked it off sharing insight about bees and their crucial role.
Okanagan Seed Savers Society (OSSS) and Naramata Seed Company were welcomed under NaramataSlow’s umbrella. They are local community groups with a wealth of knowledge supporting local seed saving and growing. Both fit NaramataSlow’s mandate of “fostering healthy living, community involvement, and sustainable food through inclusive community events and education.” This partnership created a local seed bank to store local seeds and preserve genetic diversity for the future. There are over 1,000 seed banks around the world, with collections stored at controlled temperature and moisture levels. Seed banks help to preserve the cultural and historical value of plants from centuries ago and to protect vulnerable plant species from extinction.
Next, Naramata’s own snail-shaped seed library, an outdoor, easily accessible, garden seed exchange project, was constructed. A seed library lends or shares seeds to the public, which preserves plant varieties through propagation and further sharing of seed. Seed library collections are maintained through member donations, serving gardeners by preserving local or heirloom seeds. “It’s pretty fun to watch people stop and browse the offerings on their daily walk,” says OSSS volunteer Jennifer Cockrall.
Another group of gardeners led by Catalina Polloni, an architect heavily involved in sustainability at a community level, partnered with the Centre to develop the Naramata Permaculture Farm Garden. People organically pitch in, tending to various garden jobs. There’s a garden map of what’s growing, and a WhatsApp group chat lets folks post progress and share what needs to be done. The community is welcome to enjoy the garden and its art installations and even to harvest respectfully.
farm stands in Naramata for the new Discover Naramata App, promoted through @naramataslow on social media. The committee says, “By connecting local producers and consumers you can shop close to home and support our producers. Nothing tastes better than home grown bounty!”
The Naramata Clothes Library (NCL) is a non-profit society serving the community of Naramata area. The annual Naramata Recycle Clothes Sale (fill a bag for $5) was adjusted for COVID safety. The NCL gathered, sorted, donated back, and created an organized, COVID-friendly thrift shopping experience.
Organizations such as Keep the Cold Off Penticton, Canadian Food for Children, Naramata Thrift Shop, Critteraid, South Okanagan Women in Need Society, and the Foundry have also benefited from the abundance of items accumulated.
The Naramata Community Garden is a co-operative venture between the community, School District 67, and the Naramata Elementary School to introduce agricultural and environmental awareness to the classroom. For a nominal fee, Area E residents can work a garden plot and the school has four designated beds. The school also committed to the Chefs in the Classroom program developed by the Okanagan Chefs’ Association, which educates children in our community about how to grow, cook, and eat local foods.
NaramataSlow reimagined the Naramata Community Market inviting vendors to “Make it, bake it, grow it!” It joined the BC Farmer’s Market Association, which is passionate about local food and helping markets, farmers, and small businesses grow so local food can thrive.
Envisioned as a safe and fun experience for all, the Market was moved to Manitou Park, where Wednesdays through the growing season, anyone can stop by after work to shop the artisan tables, pick up fruit and veggies, or order takeout dinner.
Beyond market day, NaramataSlow compiled a list of roadside
Volunteer Yanti Rowland explains, “Interested parties book a time online, watch an instructional video, and receive a code for a day of shopping for their bubble. Two days later, as per Covid protocols, another bubble of people can shop. The vision is to have a Naramata Recycle Co-Op, where people can bring items for recycling and swap everything from hockey equipment to band saws, a place to purge unneeded items and to support a more sustainable environment.”
For details, check out www.naramatapac.com/naramata-clothing-library
Last year, the Naramata Hospitality Limited Partnership bought the heritage inn built on Okanagan Lake in 1907 by John Moore Robinson, to be reborn as the Naramata Inn. Partners include acclaimed chef Ned Bell, marketing communications specialist Kate Colley, former CEO of A&W Food Services of Canada Paul Hollands and designer and landscape specialist Maria Wiesner.
It has already become a serious food hub with a focus on fresh, local, and sustainable items. Much of the menu is sourced by farmers within the region and even the aprons and napkins were made by local store Shades of Linen.
Lake Breeze Winery is creating a garden to grow its own produce and raise chickens and pigs to augment its local supply for its restaurant. The community is welcome to visit, meditate, do yoga, and enjoy the scenery.
Down the road at Legend Distillery, Dawn and Doug Lennie use spent byproducts to make other products. Plus, a distillery technique ensures some of the grains used are not alcoholic and the waste can be fed to local pigs, chickens, and other stock.
In Naramata, the road to sustainability is engrained in the community. One article can’t capture all the positive initiatives nor name all participants: It is in the hearts of its citizens. u
Amir and Miguel harvesting fresh, agroecological produce from Don Santos Soledad in the community of Tekik de Regil, in Yucatán. Credit: Ulises Peraza
BY INGRITH LEÓN
It is not news that consumption in an industrialized system like ours has led to a widening divide between product and consumer. Deliveries through online applications create the illusion that quick, easy, and cheap are the best options. Going to large commercial shops to buy the newest items or getting those exotic fruits that come from the other side of the world all demonstrate just how disconnected we are from the products we buy, and how our consumption habits boil down to our preferences and the products’ affordability, leaving behind the social and environmental implications of our choices.
Today more than ever, it is vital to restore and rescue the connections between products and consumers. Knowledge of processes, workmanship, and the use of resources involved in the making of a product is very important because understanding leads to more conscious decision making and to positive impacts not only for the consumer, but also for producers and for our planet. Here are two case studies of small projects from Mérida and the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico that are working to address the disconnect between consumers and products. Both projects are making important impacts in the communities with which they interact.
Amir Tun established Múul Meyaj, which in the Mayan language means “let’s work together”, as a collective of Maya communities, producers, and friends. The collective makes it possible for farmers
and artisans to take their produce and artwork to the city. Múul Meyaj understands the importance of uncovering a product’s ‘hidden value’ that most of us just don’t see. They help the consumer to take literal and figurative journeys inside the communities, meeting the farmers and artisans, revealing the processes, the workmanship, and even the struggles that occur before the final product reaches its new home.
Múul Meyaj supports more than 70 local producers, mostly elderly Maya people who struggle to make an income, the ones who respect nature and the seasons, the ones who still preserve the cultural heritage and knowledge of their ancestors, who grow and harvest agroecological produce, respect fair land use, restore soil and resources, intercrop, treat animals fairly, and the foster biodiversity.
Nurturing the relationship between the process and the consumer is something that Tun has worked on for years, helping us understand the value of a product by sharing the hard and ethical work of the
producer. From native heirloom seeds and local produce to crafts and even dishes prepared by grandmother cooks, the project manages to bring to the city all the communities have to offer, fresh and fair trade.
There is no comparison between a quick click in an online store and purchasing a handmade product from a community that preserves traditional practices.
“The most satisfaction I get from what we do is seeing the people wanting to continue these important activities that, unfortunately, have decreased over time,” said Tun. “Today, they know their work is still valued and the economic impact on their families has brought progress and opportunities. We have a lot to learn from the people in the communities and their willingness to continue fighting against our globalized work. I come from a [traditional] community, too. I have seen the challenges they face to commercialize their many hours of work and dedication to create unique pieces or to carefully grow our food.”
Múul Meyaj has built a support network with local restaurants and with Slow Food Mexico. The group has also joined forces with Guardianes de las Semillas and Fundación Tortilla, both Mexican foundations, which aim to protect and preserve native varieties of corn and other seeds that are in danger of extinction due to the mass importing of low quality corn products and genetically modified seeds.
They have also joined educational environmental programs in which they play a fundamental role in providing what is needed in terms of knowledge and raw materials. They help learning communi-
ties to develop local consumer responsibility, understanding that by purchasing products they are also purchasing years of valuable generational knowledge.
Along the different phases of this project, there have been difficulties. “At the beginning it wasn’t easy,” said Tun. “People needed to believe in what we were doing, and there was fear of what the outcomes could be. Then, once we established, the pandemic hit us and we needed to work even harder to help the artisans and farmers keep their jobs. But something very important is to never stop, because this is part of growing and learning, too.”
Today, Tun, his family, other members of the collective, and loyal customers who support the project are finding ways to help communities recover from the devastating effects of the pandemic and the heavy rainy season, and they will continue regardless of the adversity.
“One of the most satisfying feelings is looking behind and realizing that you are not alone,” Tun says. “You have the support of all those people who believe in what you do, of all those who depend on you, and of all the knowledge and wisdom of our ancestors. For me, this is no longer a job but a humble adventure.”
Imagine you are looking for an item you need, but instead of purchasing it, first you ask a group of people if anyone owns it and can give it to you if they don’t use it anymore. Imagine you are trying to dispose of an
item you don’t need anymore, but instead of discarding it and sending it to the landfill, you could offer it to a group of people so someone can come to your door, take the item, and give it a second life.
This is Mariel Kuri, a commercial manager who, after years of experience in her field, started questioning what she was doing as she learned how to solve different problems at systemic levels in economics and finance. By observing how economics systems were humancentred and by exploring ways to elevate consciousness collectively to promote non-conventional economy models, such as Sacred Economics and Gift Economy, she decided to start her own project. She implemented a platform that promotes a shift in economic relationships, fostering the practice of the exchanging second-hand items. Built as a social media group where items are offered or requested, people have learned to follow parameters that allow harmonic interactions where detachment from consumerist greed, horizontal collaboration, trust, and gratitude are practised.
Círculo de Regalos has been a big pedagogical task in shifting limiting beliefs rooted in the core of our economic and social systems. The biggest challenge has been the scarcity and hierarchical mindset with which we are all programmed. Hierarchy and scarcity are the root of inequality in conventional economy dynamics, whether people offer from a heroic position to only help others in need or whether people ask from an underprivileged position so others can commiserate with their situation and feel superior.
Círculo de Regalos aims to be different. There are no financial transactions, which helps to shift mindsets around money and to acknowledge new ways of trade through collaborative consumption.
“At the beginning, there was conflict between some members, caused by judgement and compulsiveness when asking for everything that was offered,” said Kuri. “But through assertive and constant
communication from the administrators and the help of most of the members, the purpose of the group has been made clearer and the expected outcome of each parameter has improved. Interactions are now more harmonious, and compulsiveness and conflicts are rare. We observe members in the virtual community who identify newer members interacting in ways that can cause conflict and offer help by gently explaining so they can understand how the group works. The group is reeducating itself, and cooperation among members is common now.”
As founder, Kuri says, “Detachment from our belongings has benefits in reducing inequality because no matter if you can afford a new item or not, you can have access to it without any monetary transaction. It also helps to increase the lifespan of an item, reducing waste and the amount of new materials that need to be extracted when buying new items.”
The concept of repairing is also part of the everyday conversation, as many of the objects offered need some fixing. This way, the culture of discarding decreases.
People have the chance to give a new purpose to the second-hand items they ask for, and at the same time, they learn to express gratitude publicly and tell their stories of joy when receiving an ítem.
More recently, Kuri has collaborated with other community projects in the Maya Rainforest that The Nature Conservancy has been carrying out for years. These conservation projects have given Mariel the opportunity to learn from and offer help to the members of these communities by developing regenerative business skills through e-learning programs and workshops that build better business models considering the environmental, social, and economic dimensions of their activities. Right now, they are in the process of implementing some of those business models with a solid collaborative structure and with a purpose to ensure the activities continue into the future. u
Hillside restoration SWilkinson
Sankaty Bluff Nantucket Island. credit: Hanrahan
By jan lee
Humanity has always had a complicated relationship with the sea. For tens of thousands of years, communities have relied upon Earth’s oceans for sustenance, travel, and survival. Our ingenuity has allowed us to develop entire economies from the ocean’s resources, as well as nourish and irrigate our crops.
Yet we also go to a great extent to limit its formidable power. We create concrete walls to protect our properties from storm surges while destroying nature’s natural habitats, such as vital wetlands and mangrove forests. Expensive jetties redirect the ocean’s natural flow away from beaches. Sandy shorelines are replaced with rock embankments to repel waves from our lawns and pathways. We are continuously battling against nature’s ebb and flow.
As the effects of climate change increase, however, some communities have been rethinking their approach to coastline management. Warming oceans and rising seas are resulting in stronger, more frequent storms, loss of life, and property damage. The answer, ecologists urge, isn’t a fortified coastline, but living, thriving shorelines that can adapt and mitigate the effects of climate change.
Living shorelines are today’s answer to destructive coastline erosion. A form of green infrastructure developed by Dr. Edgar Garbisch in the mid-1970s and now often administered across four continents, it relies largely on biodegradable materials made up of native, often hyperlocally sourced vegetation and methods that support a sustainable environment. Rather than erecting hard, “armored” structures like stone or cement walls to repel wave action, living shoreline techniques work in concert with water flow and the local ecology.
Living shoreline methods include a wide variety of tools, from giant coconut fiber tubes or bags filled with sand that can help build
up sand dunes or hillsides, to marine mattresses that help stabilize a hillside so that landscapers can replant natural vegetation. It can also include hollow, concrete “wave attenuation devices” (WAD) that slow wave action in shallow water and help rebuild sandbars and shorelines. Irrespective of the tools used, the goals are usually always the same: to mitigate storm impacts, reduce coastal erosion, and rebuild local ecologies in a sustainable way.
Peter Hanrahan, a private consultant and specialist in erosion and sediment control who teaches workshops in living shoreline techniques, said it has taken years for ecologists to realize that hard infrastructure that repels and redirects ocean flow actually increases coastal degradation. As artificial bulkheads like rock walls are subjected to storm surges, they gradually wear down, increasing shoreline erosion. The answer, he said, is developing mechanisms that become a natural part of the coastline and help maintain its integrity.
“The Dutch have been doing this for roughly [three millennia],” Hanrahan said, pointing out that a large portion of Holland actually sits below sea level, and yet the country has been successfully reclaiming land from the ocean for more than a thousand years. He said success is owed to the sustainable methods the country has opted to use along its 230 km coastline. “What has really worked for the Dutch is flexible, living shoreline solutions.”
“Along New England’s blustery coastline, support for living shoreline approaches are gradually growing,” said Seth Wilkinson, a restoration ecologist and founder of Wilkinson Ecological. But he
admits that habits and regulatory processes are slow to change in the New England states where walls and breakwaters have been used for hundreds of years. Wilkinson said there has been an “exponential growth” in public understanding of why soft armor techniques are critical on coastlines that are now facing chronic flooding. But implementing the necessary changes can still take years.
“If I had to pick one [challenge we face], I would say it’s the regulatory structure,” Wilkinson said, noting that it can be expensive and cumbersome for homeowners to navigate regulations that aren’t in sync with an evolving technology or with climate change mitigation procedures.
“We are definitely seeing the necessity to retreat [away from the shoreline],” Wilkinson said. “Short-term erosion rates from winter and spring storms are advancing as much as ten feet per year in some areas of Massachusetts.”
In Canada’s Maritime provinces, those age-old perspectives are slow to change, as well. But Therapeutic Landscaper Rosmarie Lohnes, who runs the landscaping business Help Nature Heal in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, said rising sea levels are raising painful questions for many homeowners who see their properties “chewed off” by storm surges.
Nova Scotia’s coastal erosion is exacerbated by land subsidence that leaves coastal properties and small towns increasingly vulnerable to flooding. So, finding ways to better protect coastal property and infrastructure is a priority in the Maritimes. In Lohnes’ view, though, it all starts with changing homeowners’ attitudes towards their relationship with the coastline. She said it is often a shock to new owners to find out that they are repeatedly losing valuable property to storm surges.
“People believe they are purchasing five acres of oceanfront [and] million-dollar views, when realistically, the environment is very fragile,” Lohnes said. She starts every consultation with an honest conversation about what the homeowner can expect in the years to come. “Even though we have a very wonderful ecosystem that can temper and slow down the erosion rates, we can never stop erosion,” she said. “That is a natural process.” She can usually propose changes that will help maintain the integrity of a homeowner’s property and preserve valuable shoreline.
Lohnes said she realized about a year ago that there were several residents in the Maritimes with whom she wasn’t connecting, either because they believed they couldn’t afford her services or because “they didn’t understand the science behind the work.” A prevailing remedy by longterm homeowners when they discovered the coastline in front of their house was top: Rosmarie Lohnes and her team guide participants on how to improve a shoreline in Ingramport, NS, that has been damaged by sea level rise and coastal erosion. Credit: R.Lohnes. Bottom: Newer living shoreline approaches include rebuilding hillsides or embankments with an underlayment of “mattresses” filled with shells or other substances. They eventually become the support for grass and other locally sourced plants. Credit: Hanrahan.
disappearing was to keep backing up away from the coastline, believing that there was nothing that could be done.
“It bothered me that many communities still didn’t know about living shoreline practices,” she said. “I felt that was a disservice to the community and the common good that some folks got our attention and others didn’t. I wanted to address that.”
So, early last year Lohnes and her team launched Shore Up, a community-based program that educates people about living shoreline techniques. It offers a two-day workshop designed to appeal to homeowner associations, non-profits, and other nongovernmental organizations whose stakeholders don’t mind rolling up their sleeves and learning about coastline management.
The first step, she said, involves selecting a test site on a property and prepping it for rehabilitation. Lohnes and her staff take care of risky work that requires professional training, such as repelling down a cliff. Then they procure the materials that will be needed, being careful to use resources from within a 100-mile radius of the site.
“We are often using plants, hay, brush, Christmas trees, logs, things like that,” Lohnes said. “We want to make sure that we use materials from the region that we are working in so we [don’t introduce] any invasive species.”
On day two, the workshop kicks off with a morning class on erosion and an afternoon on-site demonstration. Enrollees learn the basics of redesigning an impacted shoreline and are given the educational tools to assess and make improvements.
“We call it shoulder-to-shoulder,” Lohnes explained. “Community members are placed into smaller groups so they can work hand-in-hand with the employees who have had thorough training.”
Lohnes admitted that the coronavirus pandemic has made it more difficult to hold PowerPoint workshops and up-close consultations. Still, it hasn’t blunted the local interest. Shore Up has now conducted workshops in all three maritime provinces.
The price of the workshop is about $25,000 CAD for a two-day workshop and a year’s worth of Zoom calls and consultations to keep enrollees engaged and productive. Lohnes said most community organizations partner with a non-governmental organization or apply for a grant to cover the costs. Homeowners often split the fee.
Hanrahan said new types of green techniques are being developed every year to address the global impacts of climate change. Still, many pioneers of this new infrastructure revolution are finding that attitudes—including by the government agencies that now promote green infrastructure use—are often slow to change when the remedy seems unconventional.
Wave attenuation devices, which can slow heavy storm surges and help re-nourish the sandy shore, are gaining acceptance in Florida, but are still being treated with skepticism in the Atlantic states. Scott Bartkowski, CEO of Living Shorelines Solutions, developers of the hollow concrete device, said WADs are often also adopted as habitat for numerous marine species.
He said his team found that after they were installed near a coastline, these concrete structures would become stable.
“They would change the flow of the water around it, so you get micronutrient [rich] water on the inside of the structure that would help feed marine life,” Bartkowski said. “Much like a coral reef, the concrete structures in time become home to fish, shrimp, and other marine species. But just as importantly, the WADS help funnel sand back on to depleted shorelines by slowing wave action, and in doing so, protect vital habitat against erosion.”
For many proponents of green infrastructure, Bartkowski’s concrete wave attenuation devices may seem like an unorthodox way to create living shorelines. But WADs aren’t meant to be a permanent structure along the shoreline, Bartkowski explained. Their role is to rebuild severely impacted shorelines that have degraded over time. Once a section of the beach is re-nourished the local ecology has stabilized, the WADs can be repositioned to another affected area or removed altogether.
Bartkowski and those who support his efforts hope that WADs will one day become a common sight up and down the Atlantic coastline, providing natural protection against storm surges and nourishment to ecosystems in peril. But first, experts say, our relationship with the ecology we live near and depend on, and our attitude toward nature we don’t command must change. And as a species, that may be the most difficult challenge ahead of us yet. u
Lakes, rivers, and oceans are powerful places with ecosystems that are crucial to our very existence.
We all have our passions. Some outdoorsy types love backcountry ventures where few have been before, others bag mountain peaks in record time. My mania is scuba diving.
For me, it was love at first splash. I just love to be under the water. Although my home country of Canada might not immediately spring to mind when thinking of exotic dive destinations, the waters surrounding this nation are something special. With a coastline that covers 243,042 km, a huge tidal range deemed the largest on the planet, and 20 percent of the world’s freshwater, the underwater realm here is rich with surprises.
the author's husband floating at the bow of the PLM shipwreck in Newfoundland.The Canadian expanse of liquid blue is vast; however, our water systems are delicate and face increasing pressure every day. A warming climate is reshaping communities. Our expansion of urban areas, agriculture, and population mean humans now encroach and pollute aquatic habitats. We may have a rich bounty of water resources but with that comes a responsibility to protect them.
For several years, my husband Joey and I have tossed around the idea of scuba diving across our home nation. From Nunavut’s high Arctic to the depths of Ontario’s Great Lakes, there is something truly magical about seeing Canada from a different perspective. Canadian Splash is a journey that we began last summer. Our goal: to dive and photograph all 13 of Canada’s encompassing provinces and territories showcasing the beauty, wonder, and fragility hidden below the surface.
Camera in hand and dive gear strapped to our backs, Joey and I began our adventure in the province of New Brunswick. Located on the famous Bay of Fundy, this maritime province is home to the largest tides in the world. Twice per day these enormously powerful tides roar in and out of Fundy, moving billions of liters of water in and then back out to sea.
Deer Island’s Old Sow Whirlpool is a unique and challenging site that offers scuba divers a rich assortment of marine life. The island is situated at the mouth of Passamaquody Bay where, thanks to its location, current confluence, and seafloor bathymetry, the second-largest tidal whirlpool in the world exists.
Below the plankton-rich waters of Fundy is an environment teeming with life. Hues of oranges, yellows, reds, and pinks bring warmth to the frigid North Atlantic waters. As the building blocks to many marine communities, rock faces are adorned with sponges, anemones, and coralline algae. Amid this ornate foundation, critters scamper all over the place—my favourites being squishy, gum-ball size lumpsuckers. I could spend hours studying every single macro creature that wanders across my path at this swirling dive site.
After our series of dives in New Brunswick, Joey and I moved east to the neighboring province of Nova Scotia. Some of the province’s best shore diving is just 30–45 minutes from Halifax’s downtown core.
Paddy’s Head and Cranberry Cove are two sites of choice for Joey and I. These diving locations cusp St. Margarets Bay, a mere heartbeat from the famed Peggy’s Cove lighthouse. The lush and sheltered nature of the bay offers divers protection in its many coves and natural harbours. St. Margarets’ picturesque scenery also makes it a joy to travel to these sites. It has almost become an unsung tradition to visit these sites anytime my husband and I are back in the area.
Along the benthos of Paddy’s Head and Cranberry Cove, rockweed and other vegetation cling to the stony sediment. The bottom is relatively shallow and tapers off gradually into the open part of the bay. Between the sprigs of plant life, networks of urchins, crabs, and other zesty invertebrates stir up trouble. These mischievous little beasts are some of my favourite photography subjects.
In the distance, the silver shimmer of fish scales can be seen flitting about. Pollock, herring, and shad school about the hazy shallows, on the hunt for their next meal. Although they couldn’t care less about scuba divers invading their domain, the fish maintain a healthy distance from our cascading trail of scuba bubbles.
Joey and I spent roughly a week in Nova Scotia before moving northward to our third stop on our Canadian Splash journey. Surrounded by the rugged Atlantic Ocean, Newfoundland and Labrador is a wild and isolated landmass. Here, natural elements collide with history boasting azure blue water brimming with vibrant colours and alluring shipwrecks.
During our stay on the island, Conception Bay was where we did the bulk of our scuba diving—the primary draw being the renowned shipwrecks of Bell Island. Twice during the Second World War, German U-boats invaded Conception Bay striking and sinking four vessels supplying the Allied forces with iron ore. The shipwrecks of the PLM, Saganaga, Lord Strathcona, and Rose Castle are now historic and wellpreserved diving sites thanks to their surrounding frigid seas.
For wreck lovers, these mammoth-sized shipwrecks offer intrigue woven into the maze of enclosed passages snaking deep into the heart of the craft. For photographers like me, the super clear water coupled with metal frosted in plumose anemones beg for much camera attention. The PLM was the shallowest of the four wrecks, affording us the most bot-
tom time. The Rose Castle was the deepest, with some of this ship’s components stretching into technical diving limits, meaning Joey and I could not reach them.
Beyond the wealth of marine life adorning the carriers, each vessel has its distinctive points of interest. The Saganaga has a large anchor mid-ship, which flew up out of the water during its sinking and crashed down on the deck. The PLM has a spectacular stern as well as an intact propeller. The Rose Castle has a sunken torpedo off her bow, lying 50 meters (165 feet) on the seabed, and the Lord Strathcona has a red male lumpfish guarding the base of the anchor line.
Following our incredible series of dives in Newfoundland, Ontario is our most recent dive locale. Ontario has some of the most beautiful expanses of forests and lakes in the country. It is home to four of the five Great Lakes, and thousands more lakes are scattered everywhere in between.
Given the current health concerns, as of the last several months, Joey and I have opted to stay within our home province. We have made it our mission to thoroughly explore Ontario’s popular diving spots. Thus far, our dives have brought us to Brockville, Tobermory, Timmins, Sudbury, Sault Saint Marie, and Thunder Bay. All these places have exposed us to new environments, interesting creatures, and unique experiences.
In Brockville and Tobermory, we enjoyed the splendour and glory of Great Lake and St. Lawrence wreck diving. Used for centuries as a primary shipping route, this 3,700-kilometre “marine highway” extends from the Atlantic Ocean as far inland as Lake Superior. As a testament to this region’s nautical tribune, age-old ships litter the bottom of these bodies of water. Some of the most notable wrecks we’ve visited include the Niagara II, the Arabia, the Conestoga, and the Gaskin.
Further north, we had the opportunity to submerge into the buzzing wetlands and
rivers of Ontario Parks. Regulated under the Provincial Parks and Conservation Reserves Act, Ontario Parks is an important entity for outdoor recreation, scientific research, environmental monitoring, and education. These jungle-esque environments provided us with a surprisingly lavish view of Canada’s freshwater ecosystems, as well as many of the creatures supporting life within these communities.
While our ambitious Canadian Splash adventure is far from complete, the beauty and fragility witnessed below Canada’s waterline has helped me to see my home through new eyes. Lakes, rivers, and oceans are powerful places with ecosystems that are crucial to our very existence. From the jungle wetland to the productive oceans, whether I’m using Canada’s waterways for work, recreation, or transportation, the bounty of our watery nation is a force to be treasured, a force to be protected. There truly is no place like it! u
A semi-translucent Neoturris pileata jellyfish species floating in the icy waters of Newfoundland.
It’s not too late. You can help protect the last remaining ancient forests. Take action today at sierraclub.bc.ca/OldGrowth
