csq-491 RESILIENCE RISING by Cultural Survival

Cultural Survival RESILIENCE RISING

Indigenous Wisdom in Disaster Response and Climate

Crisis Management

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

PRESIDENT

Kaimana Barcarse (Kanaka Hawai’i)

VICE PRESIDENT

John King

TREASURER

Steven Heim

CLERK

Nicole Friederichs

Marcus Briggs-Cloud (Maskoke)

Kate R. Finn (Osage)

Laura Graham

Richard A. Grounds (Yuchi/Seminole)

Stephen Marks

Mrinalini Rai (Rai)

Jannie Staffansson (Saami)

Stella Tamang (Tamang)

FOUNDERS

David & Pia Maybury-Lewis

Cultural Survival Headquarters

2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140

t 617.441.5400 f 617.441.5417

www.cs.org

Cultural Survival Quarterly

Managing Editor: Agnes Portalewska

Contributing Arts Editor: Phoebe Farris (Powhatan-Pamunkey)

Copy Editor: Jenn Goodman

Designer: NonprofitDesign.com

Cultural Survival Quarterly (ISSN 0740-3291) is published quarterly by Cultural Survival, Inc. at PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Periodical postage paid at Boston, MA 02205 and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Cultural Survival, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Printed on recycled paper in the U.S.A. Please note that the views in this magazine are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Cultural Survival.

Writers’ Guidelines

View writers’ guidelines at our website (www.cs.org) or send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Cultural Survival, Writer’s Guidelines, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238.

On the cover: A cultural burn in Alabama. Photo by Ekvn-Yefolecv Maskoke Ecovillage (see page 10).

Safeguarding Equilibrium Through Cultural Burns

Nati Garcia (Maya Mam)

Cultural burns have been practiced by Indigenous Peoples around the world for thousands of years.

Thangmi Community’s Battle Against Landslides in Nepal

Raista Palikhe (Newar)

Bioengineering rooted in Traditional Ecological Knowledge is helping mitigate disasters.

Indigenous Territorial Management Rewritten Through Digital Technology

Sineia Bezerra do Vale (Wapichana) and Martha Fellows (IPAM)

Indigenous Traditional Knowledge combined with the latest technology is protecting lands in Brazil.

The Resilience of the San of the Southern Kalahari Brain Miennies (San)

San spiritual connection to the land is combating desertification in South Africa.

18 I Taotao Tåsi (The People of the Sea)

Shaylin Salas (CHamoru) In Guåhan, communities turn to Indigenous values to recover and rebuild from natural disasters.

20 Sowing the Seeds of Climate Resilience

Rochelle Morgan-Verdin (Houma) Traditional Knowledge provides a framework for mutual aid during climate disasters.

22 Resilience Rising

Sabantho Aderi Corrie-Edghill (Lokono-Arawak)

Indigenous wisdom is essential in the fight against climate change disasters in the Caribbean.

24 Strengthening Indigenous Resilience to Natural Disasters in Bangladesh

Georges Dougon (Dogon) Cultural Survival Youth Fellow Donoai Mro (Mro) is addressing climate change-induced water scarcity in the Chimbuk Hills.

Seba

26 Keepers of the Earth Fund Grant Partner Spotlight Comisariado de Bienes Comunales de San Mateo Etlatongo

28 Staff Spotlight

Maya Lazzaro (Quechua)

29 Bazaar Artist

Maria Violet Medina Quisque (Nasa)

Resilience Rising: Indigenous Wisdom in Disaster Response and Climate Crisis Management

Halito akana (Hello friends),

Ihope you, your families, and communities are well despite this time of great uncertainty and turmoil we are living in. Amongst the many crises we are facing, climate change has the potential to trump them all. According to the latest climate data, 2023 was the warmest year capping off the warm est decade on record glob ally. Greenhouse gas con centrations reached record highs, now 50% higher than pre-industrial levels. Around the world in 2023, floods, storms, wildfires, landslides, and heatwaves killed at least 12,000 people and caused significant economic losses. In 2024, 27 weather and climate disasters caused several hundred deaths and at least $1 billion in damages in the United States alone, and we are awaiting data from the rest of the world. We can see with our own eyes that climate change is increasing the severity, frequency, and impacts of extreme events, and scientists predict global temperatures will continue to rise, driving increases and intensity of severe weather and related deaths and damage.

steward around 25% of the world’s land, including a large portion of Mother Earth’s biodiversity, as well as carbon stored in soil and biomass and at least 36% of the world’s intact forests.

Support for Indigenous Peoples is critical at this time. Governments must recognize Indigenous Peoples’ rights to land and resources and sovereignty over their territories, listen to Indigenous voices incorporating their knowledge and values into climate policy, and provide Indigenous Peoples with direct access to climate finance and capacity building. With this support, Indigenous communities can adapt, build resilience to climate change, safeguard biodiversity, and support humanity with critical knowledge to ensure a better future for all life on Mother Earth.

CULTURAL SURVIVAL STAFF

Aimee Roberson (Choctaw & Chickasaw), Executive Director

Mark Camp, Deputy Executive Director

Avexnim Cojtí (Maya K’iche’), Director of Programs

Edison Andrango (Kichwa Otavalo), Indigenous Rights Radio Program Assistant

Verónica Aguilar (Mixtec), Program Associate, Keepers of the Earth Fund

Mishelle Calle, Bazaar Program Assistant

Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (Quechua), Program Associate, Keepers of the Earth Fund

Miguel Cuc Bixcul (Maya Kaqchikel), Accounting Associate

Jess Cherofsky, Advocacy Program Manager

Michelle de León, Grants Coordinator

Roberto De La Cruz Martínez (Binnizá), Information Technology Associate

Danielle DeLuca, Senior Development Manager

Georges Theodore Dougnon (Dogon), Capacity Building Program Assistant

Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan), Indigenous Radio Program Coordinator

Sofia Flynn, Accounting & Office Manager

Nati Garcia (Maya Mam), Capacity Building Manager

Byron Tenesaca Guaman (Kañari Kichwa), Fellowships Coordinator

Alison Guzman, Donor Relations Coordinator

Emma Hahn, Development Associate

Belen Iñiguez, Publications Distribution Assistant

Natalia Jones, Advocacy Coordinator

Mariana Kiimi (Na Ñuu Sàvi/Mixtec), Advocacy Associate

Dev Kumar Sunuwar (Koĩts-Sunuwar), Community Media Program Coordinator

Indigenous Peoples living in balance with Mother Earth contribute the least to climate change and yet are disproportionately impacted by it. Our hope for the future of our communities, humanity, and all life comes from knowing that our languages, values, governance, and knowledge systems carry solutions to today’s most pressing issues, including climate change adaptation and mitigation. This issue of Cultural Survival Quarterly is dedicated to uplifting this knowledge and promoting community action to address climate change-induced natural disasters. Indigenous Peoples’ deep connections to their lands and environments inform climateresilient practices, which include sustainable agriculture, water and land management, ecosystem protection through stewardship of biodiversity and carbon sequestration, as well as using weather and climate forecasting systems to prepare for extreme weather events. Indigenous Peoples

Since taking office in January, President Donald Trump has signed several executive orders and directed actions that have raised significant concerns among our communities due to their disproportionate negative impacts on Indigenous people. As an Indigenous-led organization, we stand in solidarity with Indigenous and Native communities and remain committed to advocating for their rights, sovereignty, and well being. We are actively monitoring these developments and working alongside our partners to challenge policies that threaten Indigenous lands, cultures, and self-determination.

Now more than ever, we reaffirm our dedication to amplifying Indigenous voices and ensuring their concerns are heard at all levels of decision-making. Your partnership supports Indigenous Peoples in safeguarding knowledge systems, languages, and lifeways for future generations and allows us to amplify Indigenous voices in leading the way to climate change solutions. Please give generously at www.cs.org/donate

Hטchi yakoke li hoke (I thank you all so much),

Aimee Roberson (Choctaw and Chickasaw), Executive Director

Rosy Sul González (Kaqchikel), Indigenous Rights Radio Program Manager

Marco Lara, Social and Digital Media Coordinator

Kevin Alexander Larrea, Information Technology Associate

Maya Chipana Lazzaro (Quechua), Bazaar Vendor Coordinator

Jamie Malcolm-Brown, Communications & Information Technology Manager

Candela Macarena Palacios, Executive Assistant

Cesar Gomez Moscut (Pocomam), Community Media Program Coordinator

Edson Krenak Naknanuk (Krenak), Lead on Brazil

Diana Pastor (Maya K’iche’), Media Coordinator

Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua), Indigenous Rights Radio Producer

Camila Paz Romero (Quechua), Keepers of the Earth Fund Program Assistant

Agnes Portalewska, Senior Communications Manager

Tia-Alexi Roberts (Narragansett), Editorial & Communications Assistant

Elvia Rodriguez (Mixtec), Community Media Program Assistant

Mariana Rodriguez Osorio, Executive Assistant

Carlos Sopprani, Human Resources Associate

Thaís Soares Pellosi, Executive Assistant

Abigail Sosa Pimentel, Human Resources Assistant

Candyce Testa (Pequot), Bazaar Events Manager

Sócrates Vásquez (Ayuujk), Program Manager, Community Media

Miranda Vitello, Development Coordinator

Candy Williams, Human Resources Manager

Raquel Xiloj (Maya K’iche’), Program Manager, Keepers of the Earth Fund

Pablo Xol (Maya Qʼeqchiʼ), Design and Marketing Associate

INTERNS

Candela Biset, Mariana Campos, Wari Mamani (Bolivia), Paola Sanchez, Lucas Kasosi, Esénia Bañuelos

New Zealand | Taranaki Maunga Gains Personhood

JANUARY

On January 30, New Zealand granted personhood to Taranaki Maunga mountain, which is recognized as an ancestor by the Māori Peoples of the Taranaki region and now protected by the government as “a living and indivisible whole.”

U.S. | Supreme Court Protects Native Vote in North Dakota

JANUARY

The United States Supreme Court voted in January to maintain the district map that entitles the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara Nations in North Dakota to select and vote for their own political candidates.

U.S. | National Tribal Coalition Calls on Trump to Respect Tribal Sovereignty

FEBRUARY

A coalition of Tribal organizations, communities, and citizens, has called on the Trump administration to uphold Tribal sovereignty and continue federal funding that sustains essential Tribal programs.

U.S. | Winnebago Tribe Urges U.S. Court to Hold Army

Accountable

to Repatriate Children’s Remains

JANUARY

The Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska filed a brief with the U.S. Court of Appeals urging the U.S. Army to be held accountable to their obligations as cited in the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act to return the remains of two

children, Samuel Gilbert and Edward Hensley, which were disinterred in 1927 to make way for a parking lot for the base.

Brazil | Miners Removed from Munduruku Lands

JANUARY

In January, the Brazilian government concluded 419 actions to combat illegal miners in protected Munduruku Indigenous land.

U.S.

| Clemency Granted to AIM Activist Leonard Peltier

JANUARY

On January 20, American Indian Movement activist Leonard Peltier (Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa) was granted executive clemency by President Biden after serving nearly 50 years in prison. Peltier is 80 years old and in declining health.

U.S. | Montana Court Sides with Youth Climate Activists

DECEMBER

The Montana Supreme Court affirmed the ruling in the landmark constitutional climate case Held v. State, siding with 16 Native youth plaintiffs who sued the state for destructive fossil fuel production over concerns of rapidly accelerating climate change and health implications.

U.S. | Biden-Harris Administration Announces 10-Year National Plan on Native Language Revitalization

DECEMBER

The Departments of the Interior, Education, and Health and Human Services released a 10-year government-wide strategy committed to investing in and expanding access to Native language revitalization.

Colombia | IACHR

Holds

Colombia Responsible for Indigenous Rights Violations

DECEMBER

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights wholly upheld the territorial, envi-

ronmental, and cultural rights of the U’wa Peoples against the threat of proposed environmentally destructive touristic projects by the Colombian government.

Global | New Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Appointed

DECEMBER

Dr. Albert K. Barume was appointed as the United Nations Human Rights Council Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous Peoples.

Chile | Mapuche Achieve Historic Co-Management of Villarrica National Park

DECEMBER

The Mapuche Kurarewe community in Chile secured a landmark agreement for the co-management of Villarrica National Park, ending a seven-year struggle for their territorial rights within the park.

Argentina | Legal Protection for Indigenous Peoples Removed

DECEMBER

The Argentine government has revoked legal safeguards for Indigenous land rights, ending 18 years of policy protecting Indigenous communities from eviction.

Ecuador | Communities Declare State of Emergency Over Prison Project

DECEMBER

Indigenous communities in Ecuador’s Pastaza province have unanimously rejected and declared a state of emergency over the construction of a maximumsecurity prison project in Archidona, Napo.

Peru

| Shipibo-Konibo Community

Denounces

Cultural Appropriation

JANUARY

The Shipibo-Konibo community in Peru has condemned Vogue Mexico and Latin America Senior Editor José Forteza and Peruvian designer Anaís Samanez for culturally appropriating their kene (traditional designs).

Mural of Leonard Peltier. Photo by Gary Stevens.

ADVOCACY UPDATES

Paraguay: Demarcation of the Territory of the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples Begins

DECEMBER

Within the framework of defending and demarcating the lands of the Yvy Pyte community in Paraguay, leaders and representatives of the communities and associations of the Paĩ Tavyterã People received in their territory the technical team of the National Indigenous Institute (INDI) on December 18-19, 2024, to carry out the initial act of the judicial measurement of their lands. These lands are of utmost relevance for the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples due to their proximity to the sacred site and place of origin, Jasuka Venda, and for being a form of historical organization known as Tekoha Guasu, which unites several communities in the same territory. Currently, their lands are being invaded by people outside the community who have committed aggravated acts of coercion and threats and damage to natural resources.

Bolivia: Totoral Chico Rejects False Consultation on Mining Again JANUARY

On January 13, the community of Totoral Chico of the Ayllu Acre Antequera in Oruro, Bolivia, categorically rejected mining activity in their territories for a second time in a meeting organized by the government, a sham consultation that did not meet minimum standards at the international level. The first meeting took place in October 2024 and was organized by the Jurisdictional Administrative Mining Authority to legitimize mining activity by the company La Salvada Sociedad Colectiva, which has been operating in the territory since 2013 without consent from the Quechua communities of the Sura Nation that inhabit the region.

Argentina: Government Evicts Lof Pailako Community From Their Ancestral Territory

On January 9, national authorities and police forces from Argentina arrived in Los Alerces National Park to evict the Lof Pailako community. The legal battle started in 2020 when the community attempted to claim their ancestral lands. In 2024, President Javier Milei annulled Indigenous Territorial Emergency Law 26160, which had suspended evictions and ordered the territorial survey of Indigenous communities. Days before the eviction, a judicial officer

Cultural Survival’s Advocacy Program launches international campaigns in support of grassroots Indigenous movements as they put pressure on governments and corporations to respect, protect, and fulfill the rights of their communities.

left an eviction notice threatening the community with eviction “by public force” if they did not leave voluntarily before January 9. Due to past violent experiences of repression in evictions experienced by other Mapuche communities, including leaders being killed, members of Lof Pailako chose to leave their land with their animals and belongings to protect their children. During the judicial process, the community were unable to present evidence in their defense to demonstrate their traditional and ancestral connection to the territory, and the courts ruled in favor of the National Parks Administration.

Nepal: Alternative Report Submitted to CEDAW on Violations of the Rights of Indigenous Women

JANUARY

Cultural Survival, with our partner organizations in Nepal, including Nepal Tamang Women’s Association, Newa Misa Daboo, Sunuwar Women Society, Indigenous Women’s League Nepal, and the National Indigenous Disabled Women Association Nepal, submitted an alternative report on the situation of Indigenous women’s rights in Nepal for the 90th session of the Committee on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), which took place in Geneva, Switzerland from February 3–21, 2025. The report highlights the substantial obstacles that remain in attaining genuine gender equality, as existing frameworks frequently overlook the varied experiences and the unequal social, economic, cultural, and political status of women, especially those from marginalized groups such as Indigenous Peoples. Indigenous women’s traditions are often criminalized, they are among the most vulnerable subjects to human trafficking, and their language, cultures, and worldviews are threatened under the current education system. Governmental plans addressing climate change ignore particular needs of Indigenous communities and fail to engage them as active participants. Furthermore, infrastructure projects carried out by the government frequently violate their fundamental rights to Free, Prior and Informed Consent.

PUTTING WALLMAPU ON THE ART WORLD MAP AN INTERVIEW WITH SEBA CALFUQUEO

Seba Calfuqueo with "Tejedor de la imagen, Tecnologías de la imagen" (Weaver of the Image, Technologies of the Image), featured in her solo exhibition with Galeria Marilia Razuk of São Paolo at Art Basel Miami.

Cristina Verán

It’s been a stellar year for Seba Calfuqueo (Mapuche), a multi-disciplinary contemporary artist from Chile who has captured the attention and acclaim of curators, critics, and collectors at some of the most eminent and influential art forums, including the Whitney Biennial, Venice Biennale, and Art Basel Miami. Her work has already been acquired, meanwhile, by the Tate Modern, Denver Museum of Art, Centre Pompidou, and other prestigious collections. An Indigenous trans woman, she belongs to the first generation of urbanizing Mapuche; born in and rising up from the city of Santiago, from which her world now extends far beyond. Cristina Verán recently spoke with Calfuqueo about her journey.

Cristina Verán: Given how strong the push toward assimilation can be in South American cities for Indigenous Peoples, how did your family retain (and also pass on to you) a sense of being Mapuche after having left their community of origin?

Seba Calfuqueo: My parents and grandparents always made it known that we are Mapuche and that I belong to the Mapuche Peoples—our Indigenous surname, Calfuqueo, is a clear mark of that. In Chile, such names can stigmatize and

relegate a person to a social realm typically associated with poverty, as well as limit opportunities for mobility. My grandmother had little choice other than to be a domestic worker when she came to Santiago. She and my grandfather found ways to resist, though, and continued to speak our language Mapudungun—in closed cultural spaces, not public arenas.

CV: At what point did you come to understand and thereafter define how you, yourself, would bear a direct responsibility for some kind of cultural assertion and continuation?

SC: I was about to turn 18 when my grandmother, the last person in my family who spoke the language completely, died. In that moment, I became not only an adult but also aware that the ancestral knowledge she’d always carried with her had just been lost. My conscience told me, very clearly, to do whatever I could to recover it.

CV: What is helpful to understand about Mapuche history, its distinctiveness, that speaks to who your Peoples are today?

SC: Our colonization experience was quite different from that of other Indigenous Peoples in South America. In the 17th century, we were officially recognized by the Spanish Crown as an autonomous, sovereign people, and they agreed not to occupy our lands. Things changed after 1860 however, when (by then independent) Chile and Argentina carried out concurrent military campaigns to annex Mapuche territories. Our Indigenous reality is forever linked to that colonial reality, in battle and struggle, coexisting and contaminating each other. There is a constant reinvention of what tradition is and can mean for Mapuche; a way of being that I think has helped us continue to exist. We live not in a static past but in this moment and for the future, within a perpetual cross-contamination.

CV: From this “contamination,” what, if anything, have you found creatively useful, perhaps even meaningful, to have come out of it?

SC: Well, consider our silver jewelry. Silversmithing was introduced to Mapuches during the era of colonization; something foreign. Our Peoples took to it and made it their own. Similarly, rapping was not born of our world, but there are many Mapuche exponents of hip hop today who use our Mapudungun language to rap, as a form of resistance, about important issues and political things.

CV: Who or what first sparked your interest in art and making art to tell stories in a visual way?

SC: My parents didn’t have much to do with art, but I do remember some in my family who made textiles or had other types of creative cultural practices. I studied art at the University of Chile—being the first in my family to graduate from, then go beyond high school—where an art teacher from that time, Joanna Berríos, greatly impacted my life. She planted the seed that would make me want to do what I do today, and we now work together. She’s my right-hand woman, my producer.

CV: You are an artist, you are Mapuche, and you are a trans woman. How would you say the latter two identities impact and inform the first?

SC: Identifying as Mapuche is a political claim against the colonial state; one that I enact through art. My art speaks to more than just my Indigenous identity or my trans identity though; its power is beyond all of that. These layers are always intertwined, connected and dialoguing with each other. They cannot be separated, either from one another or from the art that I make.

CV: How do Mapuche cultural and historical understandings of gender factor into this?

SC: Christianity imposed this idea that the world is binary, but Mapuche recognized other life experiences. Mapudungun has many terms describing trans people, trans bodies in fact, but during colonization these were deliberately reinterpreted with negative implications to reflect the colonizing eye, no longer representing how Mapuche would have understood it themselves. Our word weye, for example, was translated derogatorily, akin to “f*gg*t;” something nefarious. Colonial chronicles I’ve found in my archival research speak of our machiweye (machi=healers) —who shift between the feminine and the masculine— as “invoking the devil,” because that’s how homosexuality and homoerotic desire, as well as transvestism, were understood by Europeans at the time.

CV: You speak of “reimagining what could be” with your art. How do you approach and articulate this vision—and how has this (and perhaps even you) evolved over time?

SC: Each artist creates a new kind of language, one that is distinctly their own. I think about crossing boundaries and transgressing the limitations inherent in “traditional” notions of what a Mapuche person would do or could be, both in how we are represented by others and what we ourselves are allowed to do as creators. I use a variety of technologies, including making 3D-printed and digital artworks. Though I’m primarily a visual artist, my art is about more than just images. I also work with the body, doing performance art, through which I am able to bring forth sensory experiences of light, color, sound, and smell. All the senses come into play.

How I present myself has been a real journey throughout—and the way I’ve done so has changed over time. My art has reflected the transition, an ever-mutating story.

CV: As a multi-disciplinary practitioner, how do you decide which format works best to bring an idea to fruition?

SC: For something narrative that tells a story, I use video. To create something more sensitive that talks about the body, I use performance. For an idea focused on objects, I use ceramics. And if I want to make something more representative, I will use painting.

CV: Finally, what kinds of creative and activist communities have been important for you?

SC: I’m part of Colectivo Mapuche Rangiñtulewfü, which connects activists—especially Indigenous, Afro-descended, or with a migrant experience—throughout Wallmapu (the Mapuche territories of Chile and Argentina) and across the Andes. The global network of Indigenous filmmakers, too, has been a real bridge for me to other Indigenous creators as a visual artist exploring other kinds of media for my work and in spaces apart from the traditional art world.

Cristina Verán is an international Indigenous Peoplesfocused specialist researcher, educator, advocacy strategist, network weaver, and mediamaker. As adjunct faculty at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, she brings emphasis to the global histories, expressions, and sociopolitical impacts of Indigenous popular culture alongside contemporary visual and performing arts.

Left: Ceramics from Calfuqueo's “Imagen País” (Country Image) series, from Galeria Marilia Razuk at Art Basel Miami. Middle: Galería Patricia Ready featured Calfuqueo’s commentaries on copper mining, in its “La Sombra de Nuestro Tiempo” (The Shadow of Our Time) exhibition at NADA (New Art Dealers Alliance) in Miami.

Right: Pieces from Calfuqueo's “Destellos” (Flashes) series at “See Me, Hear Me: Native Cultures,” a group exhibition of Indigenous Artists of the Americas, at ArtNexus Space Miami.

A CANADIAN MINING GIANT VS. THE GUARDIANS OF THE AMAZON

Brandi Morin (CREE/IROQUOIS)

In early February Ecuador finalized a new trade deal with Canada, which both parties claim will promote local job growth while holding each country to the highest of labor and environmental standards. But here, deep in the Amazon, we are bearing witness to a different side of Canada’s engagement with Ecuador via a Canadian-owned copper mining project that local Indigenous communities see as an existential threat to their way of life.

The journey to the remote Shuar Maikuaints community feels like traveling backward through time. Just seven years ago, there was no road here at all—only a grueling two-day trek from the nearest river crossing through dense Amazonian jungle. Now, the dirt track carved by a mining company leads us into the heart of a looming conflict between two worlds: the ancestral ways of the Shuar and the relentless march of industrial development.

In this pocket of Ecuadorian Amazon, approximately 235 kilometers from the capital city of Quito in the province of Morona Santiago, surrounded by the Cordillera del Condor mountain range, some 400 Shuar Maikuaints people practice a way of life that has endured for centuries. Their ancestors were legendary warriors and the only Indigenous Peoples to successfully resist Spanish conquest. Today’s battle is different but no less existential. Just 15 minutes down the new road, Solaris Resources’ Warintza project threatens to upend everything: their water, safety, and sovereignty over these ancestral lands.

Solaris Resources was, until very recently, a Vancouverbased company. It announced plans late last year to relocate to Switzerland after the sale of a minority stake to a Chinese company fell through over concerns about the

regulatory review process. Canada has been attempting to limit foreign ownership in its natural resources sector due to concerns focused on the increasing role of Chinese investment.

Canada’s outsized role in global mining plays a role in what is unfolding in Maikuaints; at least 70% of the world’s mining companies are headquartered there. Canadian mining companies operating abroad face minimal oversight and regulation from their home country, leading to widespread accusations of human rights violations, environmental destruction, and the trampling of Indigenous sovereignty across multiple continents with almost no accountability.

The tactics used by Canadian extractive industries follow a familiar pattern both at home and abroad: divide communities, bypass proper consent processes, and, when faced with resistance, rely on State police forces to criminalize and remove land defenders. In Canada’s own territories, militarized raids against Wet’suwet’en land defenders opposing the Coastal GasLink pipeline and the arrests of Indigenous opponents of the Trans Mountain pipeline near Vancouver mirror the same playbook used in places like Ecuador.

This colonial approach to resource extraction transcends borders. The same tactics of community division, criminalization of protest, and bypassing of Free, Prior and Informed Consent that Indigenous Peoples face in Canada are exported globally through Canadian mining operations. When communities resist, the response often involves violence, surveillance, and the use of State security forces to protect corporate interests rather than human rights. Often, opinions in the communities affected by the mining project are not uniform. In Maikuaints, there is near-unanimous opposition to the mine. Meanwhile, the neighboring

Juostin Antun goes fishing by hand while wearing traditional Shuar clothing.

community of Warintz has expressed support for the mine, welcoming the jobs they expect it to bring.

No consultation

The Warintza project borders the Zamora, Coangos, and Santiago rivers in Shuar territory. It is just 40 kilometers north of the Mirador copper mine run by Chinese consortium CRCC-Tongguan, owners of one of two large-scale industrial mines operating in Ecuador. The Ecuadorian government never consulted the community about the Solaris mine, declaring them outside the “impact zone.” But the Maikuaints know better. They have seen the advance of industrial projects before, bringing contaminated waters and violence against their people from previous opposition.

Last December, about 40 community members filed into the community meeting house to air their concerns. “This is a space that provides many services to us, not only to us,” Domingo Antun, leader of the Maikuants Shuar Tribe, stated firmly, his voice resonating through the meeting house. “This is a natural space, a forest that purifies the air and oxygen for the world, and we all need to have water. We all need to have oxygen. That’s why we fight and defend everything that nature offers us. And that’s sharing. That is living with the external world. Our law clearly says we must not allow any type of risk people bring from outside to disrupt us. They want to devastate our living space.”

The passion in the room was palpable as Narankas Domingo Antun Ankuash, a Shuar man in his 30s, rose to speak. “I’m outraged about this issue, and I have promised that I will not allow it because no one and for no reason will change me or convince me. My position is firm about defending the territory because without territory, we can’t live.” Marcos Pintos, 28, spoke next: “I feel pity and anger because our rights are violated. We are not going to allow it. As young people, we are not going to allow men and boys to continue trampling on each other, to continue to blame us here in the territory. We are not going to allow it!”

Rooted in centuries of stewardship

The Shuar have a long history of resistance. Shuar territory stretches across the Ecuadorian Amazon like a vast tapestry

of forest and water. But today, 56% of it carries invisible wounds—mining concessions carved out by the Ecuadorian government without the Free, Prior and Informed Consent of the Indigenous Peoples that inhabit these lands. These concessions form a patchwork of foreign interests: Australian company SolGold, Chinese-ownedExplorCobres S.A., and Canadian firms Aurania Resources and Solaris Resources, each claiming their piece of Shuar ancestral lands.

When Solaris arrived in 2019, purchasing the Warintza project through its acquisition of Lowell Mineral Exploration, they weren’t the first to eye these copper-rich lands. The Shuar had already expelled Lowell in 2006, a victory that seemed definitive at the time. But, global demands shifted. As the world rushed toward decarbonization and a transition to a “green” economy, copper became the new gold, and Solaris saw an opportunity too tempting to resist. The Shuar’s response was swift and unified. In 2019, the same year Solaris appeared, the Shuar Arutam People (PSHA) declared their homeland a “territory of life,” launching their unequivocal campaign: “PSHA has already decided: No to mining!” It wasn’t just about one mine or one company. It was about self-determination, about the right to choose their own path forward.

The Shuar’s stance is rooted in centuries of careful stewardship. Their traditional practices of shifting cultivation, agroforestry, and hunting have helped preserve the Amazon’s biodiversity, maintaining a delicate balance between human needs and environmental protection. Their relationship with the land isn’t just physical; it’s spiritual, woven into their religious beliefs and passed down through generations.

This deep connection to the land makes the current crisis even more acute. The Shuar have accused Solaris of a litany of transgressions: complicity in the militarization of their territory, greenwashing of destructive mining activities, death threats, intimidation, careless behavior during the Covid pandemic, and the systematic destruction of community bonds. Based on a 2023 detailed risk assessment by Amazon Watch, the Solaris project has become a stark example of how mining operations can fundamentally violate Indigenous rights and tear apart the fabric of traditional communities. (CONTINUED ON PAGE 8)

L-R: Maikuaints community leader Domingo Antun. Exploratory drilling sites at Solaris Resources’ project. Members of the Antun family harvest nuts and other produce in the jungle of Maikuaints.

Despite PSHA’s clear rejection of mining activities, Solaris has pushed ahead with their plans, dismissing the traditional governance structure of these 12,000 Indigenous people spread across 47 communities. The situation took a dark turn in November 2020 when PSHA’s former president, Josefina Tunki, received a death threat from Solaris Resources’ Vice President of Operations, Federico Velásquez. “If they continue bothering me with national and international complaints, one of these heads will have to be cut off,” he warned. Though Tunki filed a formal complaint, two years have passed without investigation or resolution. In the aftermath, the territory was militarized, and leaders found their social media accounts compromised in what appeared to be attempts to discredit them.

Rather than engaging with the entire PSHA community, Solaris employed what many consider a divide-and-conquer strategy. They established a “Strategic Alliance” focusing on just two communities, Warints and Yawi, effectively bypassing PSHA’s traditional democratic decision-making structure. This tactical approach has created deep rifts between communities and families, even leading to the formation of “self-defense” groups aligned with company interests.

The company’s disregard for community welfare became particularly evident during the COVID-19 pandemic. In March 2020, Solaris brought community members to Canada for a mining convention, then allowed them to return without proper quarantine protocols. The result was devastating: 126 confirmed COVID-19 cases by October 2020, including the death of one delegate’s mother. Making matters worse, the company apparently used the health crisis to its advantage, offering medical supplies in exchange for project support. The environmental impact has been equally concerning. The project threatens the delicate ecosystem of the Cordillera del Cóndor, with local residents reporting serious water contamination. People who bathe in local rivers emerge with rashes and lesions, while deforestation spreads from workers’ camps and exploration activities.

This pattern of violations makes the Warintza project not just ethically questionable but also a high-risk venture that exposes Solaris to significant legal, operational, and reputational consequences. Their assessment suggests that such large-scale mining operations in the Amazon are fundamentally incompatible with both Indigenous rights and environmental protection, raising serious questions about the future of resource extraction in one of Earth’s most sensitive regions.

Colonial divide-and-conquer

Perhaps most insidious is Solaris’s “Warintza model” of engagement, a strategy that bypasses the collective decision-making process of all 47 PSHA communities in favor of selective agreements with just two communities, and allows Solaris to sell shareholders on the idea that

the Shuar Peoples are in favor of mining. It’s a tactic that would have been unimaginable before colonialism broke down social cohesion and the strength of self-governance institutions, when Shuar populations lived dispersed throughout the forest, each family unit autonomous yet connected through shared traditions and beliefs.

The roots of this vulnerability trace back to the 1960s, when government-sponsored colonization programs forced many Shuar to abandon their traditional dispersed settlements for concentrated villages. This represented a fundamental shift from a society based on autonomy and balanced power to one marked by dependency and hierarchical authority. The same government that failed to recognize Shuar land rights then is now parceling out their territory to mining companies.

Yet, the Shuar have always been pioneers in resistance. They created Latin America’s first formal Indigenous organization, the Shuar Federation, which now represents 490 centers across Morona Santiago and Zamora Chinchipe. This groundbreaking move inspired the creation of the Confederation of Ecuadorian Indigenous Populations (CONAIE) in 1986, now Ecuador’s largest Indigenous political organization.

Ecuador’s 2008 constitution recognizes Indigenous collective rights, declares both Shuar and Spanish as official languages, and even grants rights to nature itself— the first constitution in the world to do so. The country has ratified international agreements protecting Indigenous rights, from ILO Convention 169 to the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Yet, these paper protections crumble in the face of economic pressures.

Recent events have only heightened the tension. In August 2016, military forces violently displaced the Shuar community of Nankints to make way for Chinese mining operations. When the Shuar protested, the government’s response was swift and brutal: tanks, helicopters, raids on homes, and the imprisonment of community leaders. The president of the Shuar Federation, Agustín Wachapá, was sent to a high-security prison for encouraging his people to defend their lands. Three anti-mining activists have died and their cases now before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.

What Solaris Resources calls a “global scale” copper operation isn’t just corporate hyperbole. The company has identified 909 million metric tonnes of copper-equivalent ore in its measured and indicated categories with an additional 1.43 billion tonnes waiting to be confirmed, stretching across 268 square kilometers of pristine jungle. These aren’t just statistics; they represent the systematic destruction of an ancient and important ecological landscape. The project’s open-pit design means the earth will be torn open, mountain by mountain, creating vast craters where forests once stood. Each of these outcroppings is a living ecosystem, home to jaguars, birds, and countless species that the Shuar have coexisted with for generations.

But the damage isn’t limited to the physical landscape. The project has already torn through the social fabric of the Shuar communities, creating divisions where none existed before. The 2020 impact benefits agreement signed with the Warints and Yawi Shuar Tribes drove a wedge between communities that had lived harmoniously for generations. Now, the Maikuaints find themselves caught in the middle, with former neighbors turned adversaries on both sides.

The legal landscape shifted dramatically on March 18, 2024, when the International Labor Organization delivered what should have been a death blow to the project. Their conclusion was unambiguous: the Shuar Arutam had never been properly consulted about the Warintza mine, a direct violation of ILO Convention 169 and Ecuador’s constitution. The ruling validated what the PSHA had been saying all along. Yet, even as this legal victory was being celebrated, the ground was shifting beneath everyone’s feet. Solaris Resources, facing scrutiny from the British Columbia Securities Commission over its misleading claims about community consultation, made an unexpected move.

As of January 1, the company is in the process of relocating its headquarters from Canada to Switzerland, opening the door to massive Chinese investment. The stakes became devastatingly clear when Ecuador adopted hardline security policies to protect mining interests. Those who dare to speak against the extraction of their resources face more than just legal threats—they risk their lives— and environmental defenders and land protectors have become targets.

The language of progress, a legacy of destruction

Maria Lalia Silva is Executive President of the Mining Chamber of Ecuador, which makes her head of the association representing what she calls “responsible mining” in Ecuador. She paints a picture of an industry bound by strict standards and noble intentions. “We believe

in the communities’ development. We believe in legal certainty,” she says. “The Maikuaints community is not part of the direct influence area of any mining project.”

The same technical sleight-of-hand has excluded Indigenous communities from consultation processes across the Amazon.

Silva speaks about regulations and safety protocols with meticulous detail, emphasizing that alcohol consumption is forbidden and that “the transportation in and out of the project has to respect lots of regulations. One of them, of course, is the speed of the machinery on the roads.”

The disconnect between Silva’s corporate rhetoric and the reality in Maikuaints is stark. While Silva speaks of “international standards” and “inner policies of safety,” the Indigenous guard patrols their territory with spears, protecting their people from those same supposedly wellregulated mining operations. Her vision of development follows a familiar script: “All the communities have the right to develop, have the right to know how progress is. Now in Ecuador, the remote communities are always the poorest in the country,” Silva says.

Silva points to Ecuador’s poverty statistics, where nearly one-third of the population is considered poor, and half of this sector is extremely poor. Despite their claims of economic opportunity, mining operations have historically deepened poverty in Indigenous communities, destroying traditional livelihoods and leaving environmental devastation in their wake. When the Shuar speak of opportunity, they’re talking about the right to maintain their relationship with their ancestral lands, practice their traditions, and determine their futures.

Brandi Morin (Cree/Iroquois/French) is an award-winning journalist reporting on human rights issues from an Indigenous perspective.

This is part one of a four-part series. To read the full story, visit: cs.org/morin1.

Left: Domingo Antun, wearing his Jaguar-skin bag, with Mashiont Jaime Nantip Antun, Antun ya Pakach Segundo Julio, and Sergio Nantip at a community meeting in Maikuaints.

Right: Fanny Kaekat speaks at a community meeting in Maikuaints.

SAFEGUARDING EQUILIBRIUM THROUGH CULTURAL BURNS

Nati Garcia (MAYA MAM, CS STAFF)

The stories have been embedded in the land, penetrating deep down to the sediment of the rocks into the heating core of the Earth, our only home. For thousands of years, Indigenous Peoples have been born with the land as part of their cultural identity and ways of being. The increasing rise of natural disasters around the globe is a footprint of colonial and economic systems that have been exploiting the planet’s natural resources. We are burning ourselves up, taking entire ecosystems, from the smallest creatures to the largest, with us.

We are part of this ecosystem. Indigenous ways are interconnected with the cycles of life and the ecological existence of the Earth. The Earth has been part of the universe for longer than we can even fathom, and Indigenous Peoples have carried forward the oral stories of our relations with the Earth and the universe. Indigenous Peoples have been caretaking alongside the millions of microcommunities that exist within nature. It has been part of our livelihoods and lifeways. Throughout our existence, Indigenous Peoples have built trust with the Earth and cultivated techniques that have contributed to the flourishing of ecosystems and thriving biodiversity. We have developed technical and cultural practices in safeguarding the equilibrium of nature’s life cycles. Traditional fire burning has been one of these practices.

Fire is one of the elements that sustains us as a source of food substance and a spiritual connection. For the Maya, fire ceremonies are part of our connection with the land and spiritual connection with the ancestors. Fire holds messages and is a vessel for communicating with the

spirit realm. Fire also represents unity in bringing together community and family during moments of darkness. Just as it provides warmth, it holds space for healing and passing down Traditional Knowledge. Indigenous cultures around the world connect to fire. It is part of our lifeways.

Cultural fire burning has been part of traditional practices in land management, animal husbandry, and agriculture. It strengthens the mineral content of the soil for growing plants. It also improves the wellness of the environment, keeping out invasive species and allowing a forest to flourish. It is a rotational technique, permitting the land to rejuvenate itself for a richer landscape. However, with the invasion of colonial settlers on Indigenous lands, the practice, and associated knowledge, have been fragmented.

The dependence on fossil fuels since the rise of industry in the 17th century has caused a continuous rise in global temperatures, transforming the Earth into a fiery globe. The escalating intensity and velocity of wildfires in the 21st century are fundamentally altering our way of life; wildfires are becoming more intense and expanding at a faster rate each year, as we have witnessed most recently with the tragic and catastrophic wildfires that devastated Los Angeles and Maui.

Severe wildfires in the summer of 2023 on Turtle Island on the Pacific Coast of the Unceded Coast Salish territories and in the interior of northern British Columbia displaced a quarter of a million people. This cataclysmic event highlights a growing trend of internal displacement in Canada caused by a combination of climate-induced disasters and economic and social factors. Addressing this issue requires a constellation of responses: individual action to reduce our personal environmental footprints, the adoption of sustainable practices by corporations and industry, and

Cultural burns have been practiced by Indigenous Peoples around the world for thousands of years.

Photo by Ekvn-Yefolecv Maskoke Ecovillage

government investment in climate resilience, disaster preparedness, and social and economic equity.

Dawn Morrison (Secwepemc) is the founder and curator of the Working Group on Indigenous Food Sovereignty. Since 1983, she has been involved in horticulture, ethnobotany, adult education, and restoration of natural systems in formal institutions, as well as embarking on her own personal and community healing and learning journeys. She shares, “[In August 2023], there were 40,000 hectares burnt in our territory (Skwlāx te SecwepemcúÍecw), which are our hunting, fishing, and food gathering lands. Our ancestors have lived in relationship with this land for millennia. Since the fires, this year’s been a little bit milder. There is still smoke. There is still fire burning, but thankfully not so much in the immediate area where I am right now. There was a fire earlier in the mountain behind us. That was so scary. Last year, probably two-thirds of the mountain behind us was already burnt. It came close and an evacuation order was issued. The people who run the farm here had to move all their sheep.”

She continues, “This year, while we haven’t been evacuated and there are no fires burning in the immediate area, it is pretty devastating to look at the land, to see how much it has been burnt and also the clear-cut logging continuing in our watershed. This time of year there are tourists from around the world, so many people flooding the area and driving their cars. It seems almost surreal how all of that would continue in the midst of this kind of devastation that we feel, especially the grief and loss of our wild salmon, who have been struggling for years to come back to the number they once were. Now with the drought and the rising temperature of water, there are so many factors that are impacting them. This year, the weather has been erratic.”

We need to shift our focus and budget towards proactive measures such as wildfire mitigation, fire prevention, and the return of cultural burns. By reducing the available fuel in the forest, we can prevent fires from escalating and, in turn, reduce the amount of money spent on fighting large wildfires. Morrison reminds us that “healing the land, conserving the land is healing ourselves” and advocates for “activating the ancestral teachings around that, the biocultural memory of wellness.”

“The climate emergency and the situation with wildfires is a wicked systemic problem because of multiple factors,” Morrison says. “Ultimately, though, we know as Indigenous Peoples that these times are challenging us to be better humans, and that is why we create ethical spaces of engagement. We need to look at our ethics and human behavior and our role in the climate crisis and make changes reconceptualizing new accountability frameworks—not just reconceptualizing them, but implementing them. We think Indigenous food sovereignty is a powerful place to start.”

To effectively rebuild and revitalize Indigenous communities and their cultural heritage, a holistic approach centered on historical knowledge is essential. This involves understanding the land’s history from the initial contact with colonizers to the present and acknowledging historical injustices, systemic oppression, and cultural disruptions. In recognizing and rectifying land dispossession, erasure of cultural practices, and marginalization of Indigenous voices while supporting our efforts to reclaim our heritage, revitalize our languages, and reestablish traditional systems, we can honor the resilience and wisdom of Indigenous Peoples while fostering a more equitable and just future for all.

Cultural burn at US Kaibab National Forest in Arizona.

Photo courtesy of Kaibab National Forest Service.

THANGMI COMMUNITY’S BATTLE AGAINST LANDSLIDES IN NEPAL

Thami community members during a practical planting training.

Settled in the shadow of the Himalayas at around 3,000 meters above sea level, the Thangmi community stands as a symbol of resilience and determination. For countless generations, these Indigenous communities have flourished amidst the rugged landscapes of Dolakha district, maintaining a profound connection with nature. Our traditions, livelihoods, and identities are interwoven with the land we call home. Our existence is also filled with challenges, particularly the persistent threat of landslides that emerges every monsoon season.

For the Thangmi Peoples, landslides are more than natural disasters: they are recurring nightmares that force us to constantly rebuild and adapt. Each year when the rains arrive, unstable slopes collapse under their weight, sweeping away homes, farmlands, and livestock. The destruction is not merely physical; it is a disruption to an entire way of life and places our cultural heritage at risk.

But this story is not one of despair. It is a story of hope, unity, and action. Recognizing that our survival depends on addressing these challenges head-on, the Thangmi have come together to tackle landslides through an innovative and transformative approach of bioengineering. This initiative combines Traditional Ecological Knowledge with modern techniques to stabilize slopes, prevent erosion, and protect our land for us and future generations.

A Community-Driven Solution: Bioengineering

The Thangmi community resides in the foothills of Dolakha, a district of striking natural beauty with terraced fields and dense forests that are highly vulnerable to landslides. The region’s fragile geology contributes significantly to the frequency and severity of landslides, especially during

the monsoon rains. This poses a persistent threat to the lives and livelihoods of the local population. The impact of landslides is devastating: homes can be buried, crops destroyed, and roads blocked, cutting off access to markets, schools, and healthcare. Families lose their livelihoods, and in some cases, their loved ones. For the Thangmi Peoples, these disasters compound existing challenges of food insecurity, displacement, and loss of income, creating a cycle of vulnerability that is difficult to escape. And as climate change intensifies rainfall patterns, the threat of landslides grows even more severe.

To confront and potentially prevent the devastating effects of these landslides, Thangmi communities have turned to bioengineering—a method that integrates traditional practices with scientific techniques to stabilize the land and prevent erosion. This approach is rooted in the wisdom of our Elders, who have long understood the relationships among plants, soil, and water. The project began as a collective vision, as community members gathered to discuss the problem and identify solutions, drawing on our deep connection to the land. Together, we created a plan to reinforce vulnerable slopes using vegetation and terracing.

Bioengineering is a sustainable, nature-based approach that uses plants and natural materials to strengthen the soil and prevent landslides. It is particularly effective in fragile, erosion-prone areas, offering both environmental and social benefits. In our project, we have planted deeprooted grasses and trees on unstable slopes. Key species include broom grass (Thysanolaena maxima), which binds the soil with its strong roots, and guava trees, which not only stabilize the land but also provide fruit that can be sold as a critical source of income.

We have also employed terracing techniques to reduce the steepness of slopes and minimize water runoff. Stone barriers and bamboo structures further support the soil,

Raista Palikhe (NEWAR)

preventing erosion during heavy rains. These measures are complemented by community-led efforts to monitor and maintain the land. Elders guide the selection of species and planting techniques, ensuring that their Traditional Knowledge is honored and applied. Youth lead the physical labor, bringing energy and enthusiasm to the project. Together, they have been working, turning disaster prevention into an opportunity for sustainable development.

Beyond Disaster Prevention: Transforming Lives

With the aid of this project, the Thangmi communities have implemented two distinct programs aimed at raising awareness and building resilience in the community. The Community Awareness on Landslide Risks and Mitigation program focused on educating the community about the risks of landslides and practical measures to mitigate them. Interactive discussions were held emphasizing the calamitous effects of landslides, the importance of preparedness, and the use of locally available resources to reduce vulnerability. These sessions incorporated Traditional Knowledge and practices, ensuring that the community’s Indigenous wisdom was acknowledged and integrated into modern mitigation strategies.

Our presentations on climate change and bioengineering solutions were delivered to school kids between the ages of 12–16, covering topics such as the causes and effects of climate change, its role in exacerbating landslide risks, and the potential of bioengineering as an effective mitigation technique. Students learned about how climate change impacts local ecosystems, intensifies weather events, and contributes to soil instability. The presentations highlighted bioengineering, such as planting deep-rooted vegetation and constructing natural barriers using organic materials to stabilize slopes and prevent landslides.

This initiative is about more than just preventing landslides: it is about transforming lives and building a resilient future. The communities have utilized areas for farming, allowing families to grow crops and earn a living. The planting of fruit trees has created new sources of income, reducing our dependence on external aid. The project has also strengthened community bonds, as working together toward a common goal has fostered a sense of unity and pride. Children, too, are involved in the effort, learning about conservation and sustainable living. This collaboration ensures that the knowledge and practices developed together will be passed down to future generations.

The principles of resilience and community action are universal. Some of the practical lessons the Thangmi community have learned so far are:

1. Start with Community Unity: Solutions are most effective when they are driven by the community. Elders, youth, and all community members should be engaged in discussions to identify challenges and solutions. Collective action

strengthens bonds and ensures that everyone feels invested in the outcome.

2. Leverage Traditional Knowledge: Indigenous knowledge is a powerful resource. When combined with modern techniques, it offers the possibility of solutions that are both innovative and grounded in a community’s unique context.

3. Focus on Sustainable Practices: Addressing natural disasters is not just about immediate relief; it is about longterm resilience. Practices should protect the environment while providing economic benefits to the community.

4. Involve the Next Generation: Children must be taught about the importance of conservation and sustainability. Their involvement ensures that the work started today will continue in the future.

5. Seek Partnerships: While community action is vital, external support can amplify your efforts. Collaborate with organizations, researchers, and government agencies to access resources, training, and funding.

The Thangmi community’s journey in landslide prevention and mitigation is one of transformation and hope. Despite the challenges we face, we have found strength in unity and a way forward through bioengineering. Our efforts not only protect their land but also preserve our culture and way of life. This project aims to raise awareness among all community members, irrespective of age, about landslide risks and mitigation strategies. Special emphasis is placed on empowering the younger generation, as they are the leaders of tomorrow. By equipping students with knowledge about locally available tools and techniques and fostering an understanding of bioengineering principles, the project seeks to instill a long-term commitment to sustainable practices and disaster resilience. Engaging with the Thangmi community in this manner enhances our capacity to mitigate landslide risks while also strengthening our connection to our Indigenous Knowledge and the environment. As a result, the community becomes better prepared to address future challenges, building a foundation for safer and more sustainable living conditions.

Planting of grass species above a retaining structure.

INDIGENOUS TERRITORIAL MANAGEMENT

Rewritten Through Digital Technology

Indigenous Peoples’ close relationship with their environment has resulted in unique knowledge systems. Elders’ mind maps have been used for generations to guide land management and territorial protection. For roughly 12,000 years, this knowledge enabled Indigenous Peoples to live in harmony in the dense Amazon rainforest, shaping it and enhancing its diversity. Natural landmarks and Indigenous socio-cultural territories often functioned as unspoken boundaries without defined borders. Still, the dynamic that shaped the traditional landscapes of Indigenous territorial occupation shifted with the incursion of foreigners onto Indigenous territories in Brazil. As a result of numerous conflicts, the Indigenous struggle rose to the federal level. Following several clashes, Article 231 of the Brazilian Constitution was established to recognize the physical demarcation of Indigenous Lands as a fundamental right, safeguarding their cultural and historical sovereignty.

Despite this legal achievement, there is still a long way to go before these rights are fully realized. According to FUNAI, Brazil’s governmental protection agency for Indigenous Peoples, 153 traditional territories are still in the first phase of the demarcation process, which can take more than 20 years to complete. Moreover, deforestation rates within Indigenous Lands have increased significantly in recent years, with territories inhabited by Peoples living in voluntary isolation being the most affected. Other impacts continue to directly threaten the well-being of these communities, while climate-related challenges worsen the environmental conditions at the community level.

While the State lacks resources to effectively implement Indigenous territorial rights, Indigenous communities, organizations, and civil society have been seeking complementary solutions. The internet has emerged as a powerful resource to defend Indigenous rights, disseminate information, and organize and mobilize communities internally. In this context, Indigenous science has been combined with other knowledge systems to ensure the integrity of their territories and welfare. Integrating these knowledge systems has led to the creation of a social technology called the SOMAI-ACI system, which includes the Indigenous Amazon Observation and Monitoring System (SOMAI) platform and the Indigenous Climate Alert (ACI) application.

Territorial surveillance and monitoring have long been part of Indigenous communities’ routines. These strategies often combine various methods, such as tracking by scent, using landmarks, and seeking spiritual guidance. However, over the last few years, the escalation of land conflicts has demanded new approaches. In response, the Amazon Environmental Research Institute, in collaboration with Indigenous organizational partners, developed the SOMAI geo-web platform to support monitoring activities. Hosted on an open-access online platform, SOMAI serves as a data library, providing information on the impacts affecting Indigenous Lands in the Brazilian Amazon.

The SOMAI platform offers data on territories, land use, infrastructure projects, and climate. Initially designed to assess the level of exposure of each territory to external impacts, SOMAI’s first version was launched in 2014 and was mentioned in the National Adaptation Plan as a tool to support climate adaptation efforts. Its main partners included FUNAI, the Articulation of Indigenous Peoples of Brazil (APIB), the Coordination of Indigenous

Sineia Bezerra do Vale (WAPICHANA) & Martha Fellows (IPAM)

Fire brigades trained by CIR in partnership with FUNAI and IBAMA.

Photo by CIR.

Organizations of the Brazilian Amazon (COIAB), and the Indigenous Council of Roraima (CIR), among others.

The original platform disclosed open data, mostly coming from satellite or public open sources. Over the years, SOMAI has evolved, incorporating new features in its third version. Its reliance on the internet led to the creation of the Indigenous Climate Alert application in 2016, which, in addition to satellite data, enables Indigenous Peoples to collect information directly from their villages—often in remote areas with little or no internet access.

Through its development phase, IPAM held several workshops in the states of Mato Grosso, Roraima, and Maranhão. In this process, the Indigenous organizations collaborated on designing the content and functionality that would best fit their needs. ACI’s resulting design generates automatic alerts on fire and deforestation occurrences to all Indigenous Lands of the Brazilian Amazon, as well as weather data on temperatures, rain, and wind speed.

Since its first version, ACI has been updated to incorporate new functionalities according to its use by Indigenous Peoples, mainly local monitoring agents. It serves as a tool for mapping and locating threats in the territory, such as territorial invasion, illegal mining, and deforestation, enabling the communities to tell their story firsthand. The mobile app currently has more than 900 users across 32 organizations and is connected to the SOMAI platform via login. It features a robust security system that prevents third-party access to private information collected from the 33 million hectares under surveillance by the SOMAIACI system, and has proven to be a fruitful integration of Indigenous and non-Indigenous science.

Fire Brigades at Roraima State

The Indigenous Council of Roraima is a statewide organization located in the northern region of Brazil, where the Amazon borders Venezuela and Guyana. While this area is part of the Amazon, the region’s native vegetation shares characteristics with savanna ecosystems. Working closely with nine Indigenous Peoples across 10 ethno-regions representing around 50,000 people, CIR has developed a unique approach that combines technological tools,

like the SOMAI-ACI system, with traditional on-the-ground knowledge. Fire is a natural element managed by Indigenous communities in the region, but climate change is altering weather patterns and impacting traditional fire management practices. To combat and prevent fire events within Protected Areas such as Indigenous Lands, a program promoted by the Federal government supports Indigenous fire brigades, including in Roraima State. CIR is a key partner in this alliance, leading with an innovative approach. The Indigenous brigades’ positive impact goes beyond firefighting, extending to land restoration, environmental education, and land management by integrating satellite data with ancestral science. Building, participating in, and collecting data through the SOMAI-ACI system has demonstrated that information and communication technologies can effectively support Indigenous Land management. However, significant challenges remain to ensure these projects benefit Indigenous communities and the wider public. While some of these challenges are technological, many of the most pressing issues are social, political, or economic. There is an urgent need to establish a secure communication channel that connects the SOMAI-ACI system and the organizations that use it with federal command and control agencies. This connection is essential for addressing crimes and other illegal activities that occur within these communities. While establishing the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and

the Latin America and Caribbean co-chair of the International Indigenous Peoples Forum on Climate Change.

Sineia Bezerra do Vale (Wapichana) is

The ACI version 1.0. app generates instant alerts of fire, deforestation, and weather data for each Indigenous land in the Brazilian Amazon.

Photo courtesy of IPAM.

Workshop held at Raposa Serra do Sol IL in Roraima in partnership with CIR. Photo by CIR.

THE RESILIENCE OF THE SAN OF THE SOUTHERN KALAHARI A Spiritual Connection to the Land

Brain Miennies (SAN)

The San people of the southern Kalahari have thrived in this harsh desert environment for over 20,000 years, developing a deep spiritual connection to the land and its creatures. Our traditional practices and knowledge have enabled us to adapt to the unforgiving climate, and our spirituality and Traditional Knowledge play a vital role in our resilience. Indigenous spirituality is critical in addressing climate change, as it offers valuable insights into the interconnectedness of all living things and the importance of living in harmony with nature. It is essential that we take action to support the San community in their efforts to adapt to climate change.

San Peoples’ traditional practices are deeply rooted in our spiritual connection to the land. We believe that every living thing has a spirit and a purpose and that humans must live in harmony with nature. We practice our beliefs in the way we rotate grazing areas to prevent overgrazing and promote vegetation regrowth, which maintains the balance of nature. We use fire management techniques to maintain ecosystem health and prevent devastating wildfires and as a way to communicate with the spirits of the land. We also implement conservation agriculture methods to enhance soil fertility and retain moisture, nourishing the spirits of the land. All of these practices are examples of our deep relationship with nature.

The San community’s Traditional Knowledge and livelihoods are under threat due to desertification and climate change. The loss of medicinal plants, changes in rainfall patterns, and increased temperatures devastate the San community’s way of life. Seasons in the Kalahari region have drastically changed over time with the extreme high and low temperatures further escalating. Willie Eyman, a community activist in Rietfontein, recalls, “I was born and raised in the Kalahari in the 1980s. It looked green, animals could feed, and communities lived from the field and the

foods it provided. With the years that have passed, climate change and especially desertification are becoming more of a concern. As kids, we could play in the sun, but today the sun gets to 40°C and up, which makes it more hazardous for children to play in the field.”

Desertification in South Africa is a serious environmental issue. Nearly 91% of the country’s land is considered prone to desertification due to large dryland areas, making it highly vulnerable to land degradation and the spread of desert-like conditions. This is especially true in the Northern Cape region, where factors like overgrazing, poor land management, climate change, and changing rainfall patterns have contributed to soil erosion and loss of vegetation cover. The San People have traditionally been hunter-gatherers, relying on the land to provide them with food and other essential resources. However, with changes in rainfall patterns, the land is becoming increasingly barren, making it difficult for them to find the food and resources needed to survive.

The San have always lived in harmony with the land, using natural materials to build their homes and shelters. However, with increased temperatures, these materials are becoming increasingly scarce, making it difficult to maintain their traditional way of life. Petrus Vaalbooi, a traditional leader of the !Khomani San, comments, “Fifty years ago, the Kalahari region was overflowing with gemsbok, blue wildebeest, and other game. Today, weather patterns have changed and as food gets lost due to the heat, animals

Nearly 91% of South Africa is prone to desertification.

Photo by Brain Miennies.

San tracker, Ghopan, showing tracks in the sand

Photo by Khomani San.

migrate further. It is [also] becoming a problem for farmers in the area as the dunes are becoming more red, not as it was 30 to 50 years ago. We’re seeing more red dunes as land degradation takes place. Farmers put 2,000 sheep in an area where only 1,200 should go, or 400 cattle where only 100 should go. It is a problem for both the animals, the land and its people.”

Climate change is also affecting the San community’s rich cultural heritage with its strong emphasis on storytelling, music, and art. With the loss of Traditional Knowledge and livelihoods, this cultural heritage is under threat as western education is now overtaking Traditional Knowledge. The San community’s Traditional Knowledge and livelihoods are closely tied to their cultural heritage, and the loss of these is having a devastating impact on their cultural identity.

Medicinal Plants:

A Vital Part of San Livelihoods

One of the most significant impacts of climate change on the San community is the loss of medicinal plants. Our People have traditionally relied on these plants for their medicinal properties, using them to treat a range of ailments from fever to snake bites. However, due to changes in temperature and rainfall patterns, many of these plants are disappearing. Changes in rainfall patterns are affecting the San community’s ability to farm and gather food, while increasing temperatures are altering the distribution of plants and animals, making it harder for the community to adapt.

The medicinal plants of the Kalahari region are a treasure trove of Traditional Knowledge and a cornerstone of community health and well being. They also hold immense spiritual significance. Several of these plants have gained commercial significance in recent years, with products like Buchu, Sceletium, and Rooibos tea being harvested and marketed globally. The loss of these plants due to desertification and climate change would have devastating effects on San livelihoods, as these plants now have to be grown within greenhouse tunnels and no longer naturally.

Climate Change Adaptation: A Spiritual Imperative

The San Peoples believe that climate change is a sign of the land’s distress and that humans must take action to restore balance to nature. They are taking proactive steps to address climate change, such as establishing community-led conservation areas to protect sacred sites and promote biodiversity, developing climate-resilient agriculture projects that incorporate traditional practices and spiritual values, and creating early warning systems for extreme weather events that incorporate Traditional Knowledge and spiritual insights.

One of the most comprehensive solutions to combating desertification and facilitating land restoration involves addressing degraded water cycles and the loss of soil fertility. In 2024, the Department of Fisheries, Forestry and Environment,

International Union for Conservation of Nature, and Sol Plaatjie University’s Center For Global Change launched the GEF7 Sustainable Land Management Project in the Kalahari that aims to scale-up and mainstream sustainable land management for large-scale impact on grazing lands. In 2024, as the University started to engage with Indigenous communities on several projects, more communities now want to get involved. Our communities can now actively participate and our intellectual and shared knowledge is used in an economic way to benefit us and create an early warning system for extreme weather pattern changes using our ancient traditional values and spiritual insights.

The Khomani San have established a Community-Led Conservation Area within their Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park in the Kalahari Region of the Northern Cape by restoring the land to the community and leasing it back to the South African National Parks (SanParks) as this was seen and allows the Khomani San to maintain their cultural rights and use the land for traditional purposes while also benefiting from the income generated by the park.

Oom David Boch, a resident of Philandersbron, says, “Now that the government has seen how we are struggling in the Kalahari, we’re now hopeful that we can now plant potatoes, pumpkin, and even grapes. Community members used to plant figs as well. We were thriving, but as weather patterns changed and no more rain fell, the earth became dry. One can see it when and if it rains; the field now has deep tracks where water runs and creates these craters.”

Klaas Witbooi, who is affectionately known to the community as Oom Klaas, has seen years of rainy seasons, but in the last seven years, he has seen progressively less rainfall in the area. He says that animal feed and even alfalfa is expensive. “I’m a pensioner, but my love for animals has always carried me through, especially in these trying times. We’re hopeful that with the help of the government on the GEF7 Project our people will soon be entering Canaan, the land of Milk and Honey.”

San spiritual connection to the land and its creatures is at the heart of our resilience. By recognizing and supporting our Traditional Knowledge and practices, we can enhance ecosystem resilience, promote sustainable land management, and support climate change adaptation and mitigation efforts. We call on governments and conservation organizations to respect our practices and knowledge and collaborate with the San Peoples to build a more resilient future for the southern Kalahari that honors the spiritual connection between humans and the natural world. New York and Shanghai may have the technology, but the Kalahari has used the systems for centuries.

Brain Miennies (San) is a nature conservationist working as the Managing Director of the Kalahari Earth Keepers International. He is also the Deputy Secretary-General of the Community Association for South Africans in Natural Resources in South Africa.

I TAOTAO TÅSI

(The People of the Sea)

Shaylin Salas (CHAMORU)

Source: Wikipedia.

On May 24, 2023, Typhoon Mawar found its way to the Mariana Islands. It was a 140 mph, category 4 typhoon as it moved between the two southernmost islands in the chain, Guåhan (Guam) and Luta (Rota). The eye’s southern wall passed over much of Guåhan, delivering the most extreme winds to the island’s northern region.

Luta was just inside the radius of the typhoon’s winds, which caused a number of downed trees and defoliation. Some power poles fell, wooden and tin structures suffered partial wind damage, and power and water were lost during Mawar’s passage. In Guåhan, the impacts were more extreme. There was serious wind damage to vegetation and trees. Many news outlets repeatedly described the damage as, “What used to be a jungle looks like toothpicks.” Power lines were downed, roads were left impassable due to flooding or debris, concrete structures were damaged by flooding and wind, and wooden or tin structures were demolished. Almost the entire island was left without power, water, and cellular communication, which took several months to fully restore. Two people died in swimming accidents.

The typhoon originated south-southwest of the Truk (Chuuk) Lagoon, moved through Wa’ab (Yap), and then reached the Marianas. On May 25, Mawar continued west-northwest to the Philippines, Taiwan, and the Okinawa Islands. It was one of the strongest tropical cyclones on record for the northern hemisphere in the month of May and the strongest cyclone in the world in 2023.

Disaster response in Guåhan after Mawar was largely led by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) and local organizations such as Indigenous Nihi Media, Micronesia Climate Change Alliance, Para Todus Hit, and Guåhan Sustainable Culture. Local organizations kept people informed via social media, raised money for disaster relief, and facilitated volunteer debris cleanups. Individuals and families also did their part

to raise relief funds and support recovery on the ground.

Julian Aguon (CHamoru), a writer and human rights lawyer, wrote about conditions in Guåhan post-Typhoon Mawar: “In the northern villages, which were hit hardest, I’ve seen several clans come together—to remove fallen trees from each other’s ranches, to clean each other’s houses, to cook meals for each other’s children. A friend from the northernmost village of Yigo recently recounted how seven of her nephews teamed up to clean all the yards in the family compound, starting with the oldest relatives, followed by those with disabilities.”

This act of coming together to rebuild is deeply rooted in the Indigenous CHamoru culture. Ancient CHamoru society was centered around interdependent family units. The family structure included extended families and most members lived in close proximity to each other. They worked together diligently to provide security, feed and care for one another, and raise the children. This structure is rooted in a CHamoru value, inafa’maolek, which means to make good, to restore harmony and order. Inafa’maolek is about cooperation, interdependence, and preserving all relationships, human and non-human. It is about putting the collective needs above those of the individual. And it is key for maintaining sustainable, equitable, and culturally relevant climate disaster response.

In 2020, the Guam Forest Action Plan found that the island’s overall jungle, or forest, health was suffering. Approximately 49% of the island’s trees showed damage from animals, insects, weeds, fire, disease, and storms. In the context of climate crisis mitigation, adequate forest management and restoration is an integral part in reducing global greenhouse gas emissions and enhancing overall environmental reslience.

In recognition of this, the Guam Department of Agriculture Forestry & Soil Resources Division launched a subgrant program, Fina’maolek, an annual program that awards grants to individuals or organizations with projects that grow and maintain urban and community forests. In its first year, it was awarded to four organizations with goals of native reforestation and planting medicinal trees. Now in

Flooding caused by Typhoon Mawar in Guåhan.

its second year, the newly awarded projects are focused on forest recovery and stewardship. Fina’maolek and inafa’maolek are cognates; they share the root word, maolek, which means good or well. Fina’maolek describes something that makes good or creates harmony, something that improves upon a current situation. It is an apt name for this program.

Another major mitigation effort is found in the expansion of Indigenous healing practices. For many years, lifelong yo’åmte (traditional healer) Lourdes Mangloña, or Mama Lou, has been an active voice and teacher of CHamoru healing practices. It is because of her and other yo’åmte siha that the practice is becoming revitalized in the Marianas. Understanding and using traditional ways of healing help people adapt to environmental changes while safeguarding cultural identities. They connect people with their history and culture and reinforce stewardship of land-based livelihoods. Additionally, traditional medicines are used to protect from various airborne diseases and infections— ailments heavily influenced by environmental changes.

The climate crisis affects all aspects of our health, environment, economy, and more. Embracing Traditional Knowledge of stewardship and healing is critical to easing our way through the drastic changes that are happening and those still to come. Because of our size, remoteness, and fragile land and marine ecosystems, as islands we can only mitigate so much. As we continue to face some of the most extreme climate consequences, adaptation is key. We will take care of each other during crises and do what we can to ease the losses, but how we adapt to ensure the survival of our people and culture is critical.

Mama Lou was chosen at a young age to learn Indigenous healing and was taught by her grandmother. This reflects the antigu (ancient, traditional) way. One was chosen as a young person, learned the practice from their relatives, and then spent their life making medicine and treating the community. This way of passing down the art of healing in the Marianas has worked for a long time. Today, it doesn’t work as well anymore. Colonization, Indigenous erasure, and environmental changes have forced the people to modify and adapt their cultural traditions in order to keep them alive. We know this and embrace it, and so does Mama Lou.

In 2019, she began sharing her knowledge with a handful of non-relative apprentices. They learned the local

medicinal plants and how to process them and make medicine. In 2023, their small group successfully organized a university course series, “Introduction to CHamoru Indigenous Health & Healing.” It was hosted at the University of Guam and open to registered students as well as community members. Although some have criticized this method, saying that it goes against the antigu way, most are grateful to see the support and growth of these healing practices.

Another admirable example of adaptation comes from our Micronesian neighbors and relatives, the Republic of Marshall Islands. Their National Adaptation Plan, formulated in 2023, is unique because of the existential climate risk that their nation faces and because of the level of community participation that was involved. More than 1,300 people were interviewed to design the plan across two dozen Marshallese islands and atolls. With goals to protect their low-lying islands from sea level rise and prevent mass climate immigration, their plan is said to be among the most comprehensive for long-term climate adaptation.

Shifts in the climate have been happening for centuries, and the Peoples of the Pacific are attuned to it all. Pacific Islanders are i taotao tåsi (the people of the sea). We are subject to the temperament of the mighty ocean choosing to feed and protect us, or not. This centuries-long, fickle relationship has made us agile and resourceful. It has made us masters of adaptation. We are climate change frontliners, but we are also healers and navigators deeply rooted in our communities. And we will do what we must to survive this climate crisis.

Shaylin Salas (CHamoru) is a 2022 Cultural Survival Indigenous Youth Fellow.

Debris along a main road in Guåhan after Typhoon Mawar.

Source: Wikipedia.

Mama Lou (third from the right, seated) and her students after a day of class at the åmot (medicine) garden.

Photo by Chauntae Quichocho.

SOWING THE SEEDS of Climate Resilience

TRochelle Morgan-Verdin (HOUMA)

he knowledge and practices of Indigenous Peoples offer more than immediate solutions to climate challenges—they serve as a guiding compass for resilience and healing. Rooted in relational and aspirational values, these teachings emphasize adaptability, community solidarity, and profound connections to one another and the land. Above all, they remind us that resilience is built through mutual aid and the courage to evolve with changing times.

For the Houma, our connection to the Louisiana Gulf Coast and the strong bonds within our community have sustained our culture, health, and identity for generations. Despite enduring countless storms—both physical and metaphorical—our community has persevered because of this deep connection to place. Having lost so much to the storms and flooding, we do not cling to material things; we instead value our relationships to the land, the water, and to one another.

In “Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance,” Robin Wall Kimmerer (Potawatomi) writes that “all flourishing is mutual,” highlighting that the well being of one is inseparable from the well being of others. This truth is reflected in our way of life: when disaster strikes, we make it through by looking after our Elders, sharing the day’s catch with our neighbors, and rebuilding together, always sharing humor along the way. For us, flourishing does not happen in isolation; it thrives within the bonds of community and shared abundance.

Barriers to the Exercise of Self-Determination

Today, the Houma face an unprecedented challenge: the land that has sustained us for generations is disappearing

before our very eyes due to rising sea levels and subsidence. What remains above water has been drastically altered by saltwater encroachment, transforming the plant and animal life “down the bayou.” As a Peoples deeply connected to the land and water, these changes have profoundly impacted our community.

Former Houma Nation Chief, Thomas Dardar, expressed his concern to the U.S. Senate in 2012: “Our homelands are disappearing, and with that land are the stories of our Elders, the bones of our ancestors, and the very cultural fabric that makes up our nation.” Chief Lora Ann Chaisson recalled a visit to her father’s 10 acres, saying, “Where we once stood, there is no land anymore. Where our family lived, there’s no trace of land left.”

As the land disappears, so does the foundation of much of our knowledge, making it increasingly difficult to pass down essential skills, practices, and cultural values tied to the land. Climate-induced displacement leads to language loss, cultural erosion, and a severed connection to ancestral lands, threatening the intergenerational transmission of this knowledge. This is a tragedy that affects not only the Houma, but all of humanity.

Had the United Houma Nation been granted federal recognition, access to funding for climate mitigation might have alleviated some of the devastation we face today. As a state-recognized Tribe, however, this legal segregation deepens the inequities we encounter, limiting our ability to assert our rights and defend our cultural heritage. Furthermore, as a Tribal Nation within the U.S., the Houma are ineligible for support through the Loss and Damage Fund, a global initiative designed to assist nations most vulnerable to climate impacts.

This situation illustrates how entrenched economic, social, political, and systemic barriers constrain Indigenous Peoples’ ability to respond to a rapidly changing environment and protect their knowledge, which holds key solutions to the challenges ahead.

Sunrise on the bayou in Dulac, Louisiana.

Photo by Rochelle Morgan-Verdin.

Inset: Clayton Verdin, author’s uncle, shrimping on the bayou.

Photo by Jecee Morgan-Verdin.

Indigenous Peoples’ Knowledge and Free, Prior and Informed Consent

As climate challenges escalate, the role of Indigenous Traditional Knowledge in safeguarding cultural heritage and the environment becomes even more crucial. Fortunately, there is a growing awareness by dominant society of the validity of the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples, with increasing attention placed on its potential to address climate challenges. While the rising interest in Traditional Knowledge is welcome, it is important to recognize that it comes after centuries of systematic efforts to discredit, suppress, and erase Indigenous knowledge systems.

A troubling assumption accompanies this rising interest in the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples, however: that such knowledge is simply a resource to be extracted and utilized, rather than a living, evolving relationship tied to culture and land. As my mentor and friend, former Tribal Chairman Frank Ettawageshik (Little Traverse Bay Bands of Odawa Indians), often reminds me, the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples is not simply information, but instead a way of knowing. It is a holistic, interconnected, and everevolving understanding, rooted in the context of community, environment, and spirituality. Western science, in contrast, often treats knowledge as something that is generated by the individual mind—isolated facts or inventions to be patented or commodified—severing it from the broader universal mind that connects all life. This fragmented approach introduces a temporal dimension, confining knowledge to a static, individualistic form that limits its adaptability and depth, preventing it from evolving as a dynamic, collective understanding.

This misconception is often accompanied by another deeply troubling assumption, that Indigenous Peoples are morally obligated to share this knowledge or that this knowledge should be placed in the public domain. These assumptions ignore the core principles of Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), treating the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples akin to raw data or a commodity to be harvested and disconnected from its cultural, spiritual, and environmental context. This mirrors the same colonial mindset that sought to extract resources from Indigenous Peoples without regard for their rights, continuing the legacy of exploitation and disregard for the sovereignty and dignity of Indigenous Peoples.

The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples explicitly recognizes the right to FPIC, and more recently, the World Intellectual Property Organization’s Treaty on Genetic Resources and Traditional Knowledge reinforced the importance of disclosing the source of origin when patents are based on genetic resources and associated Traditional Knowledge, directly linking respect for Indigenous rights to the broader global conversation on intellectual property. Together, these international instruments establish a strong framework for recognizing and protecting Indigenous rights, ensuring that the knowledge

of Indigenous Peoples is neither exploited nor misappropriated, including in discussions about climate solutions.

Nurturing the “Knowledge Garden”

The ability of Indigenous Peoples to effectively steward their land and safeguard their cultural heritage depends on their capacity to fully exercise their inherent right to selfdetermination. This self-determination is essential not only for protecting and transmitting knowledge, but also for maintaining the practices that arise from a worldview deeply rooted in a holistic relationship with the land. Practices like controlled burns, wetlands restoration, and traditional fishing have sustained Tribal Nations like mine for generations. When these practices are honored and supported, they offer benefits to Indigenous Peoples as well as the world at large, particularly in the context of ongoing climate challenges.

Rather than seeing western science and the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples as opposing or incompatible, or calling for the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples to be “integrated into” western science, the true potential lies in their collaboration. Kimmerer offers a compelling vision of this partnership through the metaphor of a “knowledge garden,” where the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples and scientific tools grow together side by side, much like the traditional practice of planting corn and beans. This partnership is not about merging facts or subordinating one knowledge system to the other, but about creating a space where both ways of knowing can nourish one another and ultimately thrive together.

Much like sewing together the strands of our traditional Houma fishing nets, this collaboration weaves together the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples and western science, enriching our collective capacity to adapt and thrive. Together, they create a world where both knowledge systems grow side by side in a mutually supportive relational web that mirrors the interconnectedness of nature itself.

Rochelle Morgan-Verdin is a proud citizen of the United Houma Nation. She holds a master’s degree in International Law and Human Rights and a bachelor’s degree in Latin American and Caribbean Studies.

A community service project to assist a Houma citizen with repairs to their home after Hurricane Ida.

Photo by Rochelle Morgan-Verdin.

RESILIENCE RISING Indigenous Wisdom in the Fight Against Climate Change Disasters

(LOKONO-ARAWAK)

For island nations like Bar bados, where the rhythms of daily life are shaped by the tides and the rains, climate resilience is not just a goal: it is a way of life rooted in the wisdom of the land and its people. At the 16th United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification Conference of the Parties (UNCCD COP16), held in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, December 2–13, 2024, nations gathered to address some of the most pressing environmental challenges of our time. For Small Island Developing States like Barbados, the stakes are especially high. Climate change, land degradation, and water scarcity are not distant threats—they are daily realities. These nations need to reflect on innovative solutions and collective strength. By integrating respect for heritage and Indigenous knowledge with forward-thinking advancements, they can lead the way toward a sustainable future.

ing of how to live in harmony with the land. Until 1630, they guided settlers on cultivating crops suited to specific soil types; the poorly drained red high clay content soil, black nutrient-rich well-drained soil, and sandy, nutrient-poor soil, where only cassava could thrive. They also emphasized the importance of planting crops at the most favorable times of the year, such as when the Pleiades star system became visible in the night sky, signaling the onset of the rainy season.

As an urban Indigenous woman born and raised in Barbados, I am deeply connected to this island’s culture and traditions while honoring the wisdom of my LokonoArawak heritage. My father, who is Barbadian and Lokono, and my mother, Lokono and from Guyana’s Pakuri Territory, instilled in me a strong sense of identity that bridges both worlds. Growing up in Barbados, I was nurtured by the vibrancy of Caribbean life and the teachings of my Indigenous heritage, which shaped my understanding of resilience, community, and sustainability. This blend of modern Barbadian life and ancient Indigenous traditions has shaped my vision for resilience and sustainability. It demonstrates that the solutions we seek today are deeply intertwined with the wisdom of the past and the innovations of the present. By embracing all parts of who we are, we can navigate the challenges of climate crises with strength

These early agricultural contributions were transformative. The Lokono-Arawaks introduced crops such as cassava, corn, sweet potatoes, tobacco, pineapples, and sugar cane, which they obtained from Dutch colonists in Guyana in 1618. They also shared sustainable farming practices such as crop rotation to prevent soil exhaustion. Corn, beans, and pumpkins were often planted together so that beans would grow on the corn stalk. The large pumpkin leaves retained soil moisture and shaded the soil, allowing the plants to mutually fertilize one another. This holistic approach improved soil health and increased yields, forming the foundation for sustainable agriculture on the island.

The Lokono-Arawaks’ knowledge extended beyond the land to the sea. Over centuries, they mastered techniques for navigating tides and seasonal changes, identifying the safest times of the year for long-distance voyages. This knowledge became crucial not only for trade but also

Sabantho Aderi CorrieEdghill

Coral regeneration project.

Photo courtesy of Barbados Environmental Conservation Trust.

Inset: Barbadian agriculture

Photo courtesy of barbadosenvironment.org.

for resistance. During the 17th and 18th centuries, many enslaved Africans used these techniques to escape from Barbados to Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. These voyages often took place between December and April, during the dry season following the end of the hurricane season. Today, recreational sailors continue to benefit from this ancient wisdom, which remains a vital part of the Caribbean’s cultural heritage.

In terms of water-related ancient Indigenous knowledge, observing the behavior of wildlife helps us predict rainfall with stunning accuracy. The frigate bird flies in circles over land near the coast exactly 15 minutes before rain falls. One to three days before heavy rains, male termites swarm around light sources in the house at night. Seven days before flooding, ground-dwelling ants build the mud entrances to their nests several inches high. And about 15-30 minutes before a tsunami strikes, shore-nesting birds and coastal mammals flee inland, offering humans a chance to follow them to higher ground and save their lives.

Innovation Rooted in Indigenous Principles

Barbados is ranked among the 15 most water-scarce nations globally, relying heavily on rainfall-fed aquifers. Ancient Indigenous wisdom provides valuable insights into addressing this challenge, and Barbados is building on this legacy of ancient Indigenous wisdom to tackle the critical challenge of water scarcity with the latest modern technology.

Tapping underground water tables using a series of bottomless clay pots stacked upon each other to create water wells in the dry season embodies Indigenous Peoples’ long-held principles of working with natural cycles to create sustainable systems. Combining this technology with improved infrastructure, such as the upgraded South Coast sewage plant that recycles wastewater for irrigation and groundwater replenishment and the two existing desalination plants, Barbados is building a future where water scarcity no longer limits growth.

Modern innovations like the Eco Sky Water initiative are further helping to address this critical issue. This solarpowered technology extracts water vapor from the air, producing over 1,000 liters of clean, drinkable water daily. Scaling such systems to homes, schools, and farms could transform water access across the island.

This same harmony with natural cycles guides solutions in agriculture, where the need for climate-resilient practices grows more urgent each year. Barbados dedicates 37% of its land to agriculture, but much of this remains tied to sugarcane production, a colonial legacy. Transitioning to diversified farming with climate-resilient crops is essential to strengthening food security and reducing dependence on imports.

Combining traditional agricultural knowledge with modern science, farmers can cultivate crops suited to

changing conditions. For example, intercropping and agroforestry inspired by Indigenous practices can improve soil health and reduce erosion. Small-scale poultry farmers, who are struggling with heat stress due to rising temperatures, need access to affordable infrastructure like shaded coops and water-efficient cooling systems to sustain their operations.

Marine ecosystems are critical to Barbados’ culture and economy but face growing threats from overfishing, coral reef bleaching, and pesticide runoff. Barbados’ debt-for-climate deal is funding the modernization of sewage systems to reduce ocean contamination. These efforts protect marine biodiversity while ensuring the livelihoods of fisherfolk who depend on the sea. Strengthening conservation practices and promoting sustainable fishing methods are crucial to preserving these ecosystems for future generations.

By embracing solutions rooted in resilience, collaboration, and innovation, Small Island Developing States like Barbados can lead the way in sustainable development. The intersection of ancestral wisdom and cutting-edge science offer powerful opportunities to address water scarcity, food security, and marine conservation. But this is not just about addressing climate change. It is about transforming vulnerabilities into strengths, showing the world how balance and sustainability can thrive in harmony.

By honoring the wisdom of the past, we can create innovative solutions that ensure resilience in the face of global challenges. The answers we seek today lie in combining the solutions of the past with those of the present. Every part of our history, our culture, and our knowledge matters. By embracing this truth, our nations have the chance to inspire global action with their stories, solutions, and leadership.

Sabantho Aderi Corrie-Edghill is a Lokono-Arawak member of the Pakuri Tribal Territory Autonomous Indigenous community in Region 4, Guyana. She is an Indigenous rights activist, Indigenous data provider, remedial educator, illustrator, and children’s author.

The first mural in Barbados honoring the island’s First Peoples.

Photo courtesy of Trandy Escapes.

DONOAI MRO

Strengthening Indigenous Resilience to Natural Disasters in Bangladesh

Georges Dougnon (DOGON, CS STAFF)

Donoai Mro (Mro) is an advocate for Indigenous rights, environmental conservation, and sustainable development.

A proud member of the Mro Indigenous community in the Bandarban Hill district of the Chittagong Hill Tracts of Bangladesh, he was born into a farming family, fostering a deep connection to nature and traditional practices. He recently earned a degree in Criminology from the University of Dhaka, specializing in environmental crime. As a rising youth leader, Mro serves as the Information and Publication Secretary of the Bangladesh Mro Student Association, where he works to empower Indigenous youth and strengthen Mro culture.

Mro is passionate about knowledge-sharing, actively engaging with his community and broader society to amplify Indigenous voices and advocate for their rights. He is committed to shedding light on the overlooked histories of Indigenous communities that have been marginalized by limited education and representation, and he considers it his responsibility to change that narrative. He is also engaged in addressing the water crisis in the Chimbuk Hills by blending Traditional Knowledge with modern advocacy. Through his Cultural Survival Youth Fellowship project, Mro is bridging generational gaps, fostering community-led solutions, and strengthening resilience in the face of environmental and political challenges. His work continues to drive awareness, policy advocacy, and grassroots activism, ensuring the protection of his Peoples’ heritage and resources.

The majority of the Mro population lives along the borders of Bangladesh, Myanmar, and India. In Bangladesh, over 200 Mro villages are nestled within the tropical forests of the Chittagong Hill Tracts, and approximately 70,000 Mro people live along the Bangladesh-India border with Myanmar. The Mro People are deeply influenced by their traditions, culture, and beliefs, which shape their way of life and social structures. They are highly skilled in farming and the sustainable use of natural resources, maintaining a way of life that reflects their strong connection to their ancestral heritage. They also face numerous challenges in protecting their unique heritage and resources, which are exacerbated by climate change and socio-economic pressures. To address these challenges, Mro designed and carried out “Tui’piya,” an initiative to empower his community with the knowledge, skills, and resources needed to effectively prevent and respond to climate change-induced disasters, focusing on water scarcity in the Chimbuk Hills.

The Tui’piya project aimed to bridge generational knowledge gaps by connecting Elders and youth in knowledge-sharing sessions emphasizing the importance of traditional water collection techniques, which many young people in the community were unaware of, and advocating for a return to the community’s historical practice of reusing plastic bottles to minimize waste. The project also trained several community members, including youth, women, and Elders, to lead advocacy efforts and continue promoting sustainable water conservation practices. While traditional practices offer a holistic approach to sustainability, factors such as climate change pose new challenges. Mro’s project identified both the strengths and limitations

of traditional methods, stressing the need for adaptation while strengthening Indigenous Knowledge.

“The Tui’piya Project was a community-centered initiative with support from Cultural Survival to address water scarcity in the Chimbuk Hills. We began by studying the current and historical status of water sources to understand the impacts of climate change and human activities such as deforestation and unplanned tourism. A seven-member committee was formed to facilitate the dissemination of Traditional Knowledge and coordinate efforts to preserve natural water sources and community forests. This committee collaborated with villagers and external stakeholders to protect critical resources and implement sustainable practices,” Mro explains.

One of the project’s key activities was advocacy meetings connecting community representatives with local nonprofit organizations and regional government agencies. These meetings fostered collaboration and resource sharing, ensuring the long-term resilience of the community. In addition, community-led campaigns were launched to restore traditional practices, such as treating water sources as sacred and fostering a sense of collective ownership.

Bangladesh is home to more than 50 Indigenous communities, which comprise 1.8% of the total population. A significant concentration of these communities is found in the remote areas of the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Reports indicate that Indigenous communities are more vulnerable to extreme weather events compared to non-Indigenous groups, as many reside in climate-sensitive areas and rely heavily on natural resources for their survival. Additionally, Indigenous communities often face social exclusion, and their limited access to basic rights makes them even more susceptible to climateinduced disasters. These adverse conditions exacerbate their socio-economic challenges, impacting their livelihoods and health and threatening their traditional practices and cultural activities. For millennia, Indigenous communities have adapted to such extreme conditions by developing various nature-based adaptation measures.

Bangladesh is frequently affected by natural disasters such as floods, droughts, and landslides. While floods are prevalent in low-lying areas, the Mro community, living in the hilly regions, are most affected by droughts and landslides. “These disasters disrupt our traditional practices, such as jhum (a method of cultivation), which depends heavily on balanced environmental conditions. Droughts caused by climate change dry up natural streams, forcing community members to travel long distances in search of water. Landslides, often triggered by heavy monsoon rains, pose additional risks to lives and livelihoods. Such disruptions lead to food and water shortages affecting every aspect of our socio-economic lives,” Mro says. Indigenous communities in Bangladesh face unique challenges in preparing for and recovering from natural disasters. Among the most formidable are geography, communication, and the historic and systemic marginalization of Indigenous communities. Language barriers and vulnerable infrastructure that is easily damaged and the limited access to critical disaster

relief and recovery resources for marginalized communities, combined with exclusionary policies and government initiatives that are typically designed from the perspective of mainstream populations and ignore the specific needs of Indigenous groups, limit timely disaster response and recovery efforts and reduce opportunities for Indigenous representation and advocacy in disaster planning and policymaking.

Through Mro’s Fellowship project, the Mro community has made significant strides in disaster resilience. Advocacy meetings have enabled the community to secure support from local institutions, including logistical support and equipment for water conservation. The preservation of community forests has also proven effective in maintaining natural streams during the dry season. By proactively monitoring and responding to water shortages, the community has reduced the severity of the annual water crisis with Indigenous knowledge and local practices forming the backbone of their disaster response.

“Traditional beliefs, such as viewing water sources as sacred, promote sustainable resource management,” Mro says. “However, modern development and tourism have eroded these practices. To counter this, the project has focused on reviving traditional values and connecting the community with external stakeholders to strengthen their efforts. Youth engagement has been a key focus, bridging generational gaps and ensuring the continuation of Traditional Knowledge.”

Mro says that government agencies and international partners must play a more active role in supporting Indigenous communities affected by natural disasters, such as developing inclusive plans that involve local leaders, youth, and women, providing translators to overcome communication barriers during emergencies, and offering legal support to help Indigenous communities navigate complex administrative processes. They must also ensure equitable access to resources such as food, medical care, and emergency shelter, and create platforms for Indigenous communities to share their disaster management experiences and practices.

Mro points out that global Indigenous leaders and communities around the world face similar challenges of marginalization and environmental vulnerability. “To address these issues, it is critical to ensure proportional representation at the national and international levels. By working together, we can amplify our voices and develop sustainable solutions to protect our communities from natural disasters. Let us honor our Traditional Knowledge and practices while working with external partners to ensure a resilient future for all.”

Since 2018, Cultural Survival has awarded 137 fellowships supporting 305 youth fellows.

RESTORING SOIL AND BUILDING STONE WALLS TO FIGHT EROSION

The water retention edge allows water to be charged to the underlying water bodies, with a retention capacity of approximately 1600 cubic meters.

The desertification and deforestation of the hills in San Mateo Etlatongo, Oaxaca, Mexico due to climate change have caused deep erosion and fragile ravines. Over the years, community members of this Indigenous municipality have created a system of contour ditches in an attempt to retain water and restore soils; however, this has been a limited solution. The community continues to work on creating borders in a systematic and structured manner on the hills that have been identified as the most affected by soil degradation and drought under the coordination of the traditional authorities of the municipality. In 2024, Comisariado de Bienes Comunales de San Mateo Etlatongo received a Keepers of the Earth Fund grant to support the community’s efforts.

The Ñuu Savi community of San Mateo Etlatongo, known as Yucunduchi in Mixtec/ Ñuu Savi, is settled on an area of approximately 23.5 square kilometers within the Mixteca region in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico.

We are proud to carry in our veins the blood of indomitable, brave, courageous, and hard-working warriors, which we inherited from our ancestors. As such, we maintain an ongoing struggle to keep our traditions and customs alive in the face of the onslaught of modernity, globalism, and policies of consumer capitalism that have impoverished our Native Peoples, belittling and discriminating against our culture, products, and native seeds while promoting the plundering and extraction of our natural resources and deforesting the world in which we live. As a consequence of the overexploitation of natural

resources, the entire world has lost a considerable number of different species, now extinct due to the extermination of their natural habitat. We have deprived our next generations of the privilege of having known them; they will only have knowledge of them through images.

The excessive and unstoppable deforestation and the voracity with which urban expansion destroys green areas, the high and incalculable emissions of pollutants by industrial complexes that directly pollute the atmosphere, land, and water—all of this is common for most governments, which, manipulated by the economic interests of the rich, are responsible for climate change and the global warming of our planet.

Our Peoples, who previously lived in harmony with nature, are threatened by the planet overheating. This phenomenon has become noticeable in the alarming and extreme prolongation of drought. The lack of rain directly affects agricultural production and the raising of small livestock and poultry—the basis of the diet of our communities—who rely on rainfed crops and the care of livestock for self-consumption. The loss of rainfall, as well as excessive, torrential rains, cause the desertification of the soil, which is completely eroded and thus has lost all possibility of filtration to recharge the subsoil and the aquifers. This has led to the decline and extermination of springs and small wells. Sometimes, we are left without water, forcing our people to emigrate and abandon the towns and making us easy prey to be used as cheap labor for corporate interests. To mitigate this critical situation, we are carrying out various works within our territory, combining efforts with municipal authorities, local and agrarian representatives, educational institutions, and the community at large.

Federico Avendaño Gonzalez (NA SAVI)

Our municipality has a type of flat relief where agriculture is practiced for grains and seeds, as well as fodder for livestock. We also have a large part of rugged, hillside relief, which gives us a significant opportunity to capture the water from the scarce rains through ditches and embankments. We have had excellent results, capturing a high percentage of rainfall. This has been very beneficial in maintaining humidity in eroded areas, thus providing a greater possibility of soil regeneration through the regrowth of various shrubs, grasses, and trees. The community has planted several species from our region near these embankments.

Inside the ravines we build walls of arranged stone as our ancestors did, based on our Traditional Knowledge, to fight erosion. Little by little, the organic matter and soil carried during the rain is retained, helping us recover large areas suitable for the growth of the local flora and gradually transforming the semi-desert area into green spaces. Thus, we are able to regenerate regions that promote the recovery of wild fauna in the area while also capturing a good amount of water.

With the support and guidance of Elders from our town, and taking into account the expertise of engineers, we choose the appropriate places to construct micro-basins. We build embankments supported by heavy machinery that move and compact the material so it can withstand the pressure of the stored water, which increases infiltration into the subsoil and recharges our aquifers. In addition to the micro-basins, on the slopes of solid gravel and small rocky areas that are difficult to clear, we use a tractor to break up the surface and thus be able to plant trees and bushes. This work allows us to capture and filter water during the rains while reducing landslides and promoting maximum penetration of moisture into the gravel, which further contributes to the recovery of the plant life in our area.

The Etlatongo community also faces a problem of river pollution caused by a nearby city. The urban area of Nochixtlán discharges its sewage into this body of water that once gave life to the municipality of Etlatongo. With the discharge of wastewater, the river is no longer clear and crystalline. It is now a grey liquid that is destroying the flora and fauna of this place; it has lost its function of nourishing life. Faced with our planet’s water crisis and, above all, with the ravages that have been felt in our Indigenous communities in recent years, the people of San Mateo Etlatongo will redouble our efforts to restore our eroded lands and fight against the displacement of our Peoples, against the extinction of our native seeds due to the invasion of transgenic grains. We will also fight to preserve our customs and traditions, which have been a great cultural heritage of our ancestors.

The town of San Mateo Etlatongo is committed to the care and safeguarding of the environment. We are a People who have worked, are working, and will continue

to give our maximum efforts for a healthier and cleaner environment for our future generations. We have received support from a government program to begin soil restoration and reforestation work in our most deteriorated areas. The participation of Cultural Survival via the Keepers of the Earth Fund grant has been essential in recognizing, valuing, and supporting our people in the construction of rainwater retention dams for the enrichment of aquifers for the good of life and our planet. Teamwork, including the participation of children and educational institutions at their different levels, as well as local organizations, has awakened an interest in the community in the management and improvement of our environment, promoting habits and values that will give us a more dignified future as human beings.

Trench board to capture rainwater in areas with steep slopes, with a capacity of 16.9 cubic meters.

GET TO KNOW MAYA LAZZARO (QUECHUA)

Cultural Survival Bazaar Vendor Coordinator

Identity

Imaynalla kusanki! (Hello! How are you?) I am Quechua from the altiplano region of Bolivia on my father’s side and European and Argentinian on my mother’s side. My ancestors came from the Andes between Potosi and the Uyuni Salt Flats. I was born and raised in New York City and Brooklyn. I also spent part of my childhood in the mountains of Argentina. There, I learned what New York City doesn’t teach you. I have also been visiting Bolivia.

Relation to the Earth

When I am in Bolivia, I feel free and at peace because of the mountains, the rivers, the sun, and the wind. They make me feel lucky to be from a place that is so sacred. During the day, you are close to the sun, and at night, you are so close to the stars. Our people connect to the Earth through our ceremonies, dances, agricultural practices, and songs. We are taught to call in our ancestors’ spirits and we believe that we are descended from the star people; that is also where we will return.

Indigenous Resilience

Being an Indigenous woman means that I am an embodiment of the past, present, and future. I think that time and space are in constant flux, and I hope to be able to move through these times and not get stuck or lost in them. Indigenous people, and specifically Indigenous women, are often at the forefront of genocides and revolutions, often as a result of colonialism.

Inspirations

My grandmothers are my inspiration. I am also very inspired by the EZLN (Zapatista Front), a movement led by Maya women from Chiapas, Mexico. Indigenous women in the Amazon region have been very inspirational to me in the way they act, think, and dream. One of my mother figures, a Mixtec woman, taught me many things in the kitchen. She also taught me how to stay rooted and strong in a patriarchal world. She showed me how important it is to never lose a mother’s love and a feminine touch.

Working at the Bazaars

I am passionate about Indigenous art and handmade products and Indigenous economic models. I come from a family of artists. At 21, I created my own jewelry line and started selling at different powwows and pop-ups on the East Coast. Now, I enjoy supporting Indigenous artisans who are still living in their communities.

Reclaiming Land and Resources

I am passionate about Indigenous sovereignty, which entails land, water, and language conservation. Indigenous Peoples should be able to self-govern, keep ancestral seeds, and remember the traditional ways of hunting. I also believe we must reclaim our human right to access clean water and restore the biodiversity at risk because of climate change, capitalism, and other consequences of colonialism.

Fighting Against New Colonization

In North and South America, I often see non-Indigenous people try to appropriate, sell, claim, or change the various kinds of traditional ceremonies that Indigenous people practice. I recently spoke to another Quechua person about this, and they reminded me that in the past, some things were kept private in our own culture, which resonated with me. One issue I have been thinking about lately is how we differentiate between what can be healing across nations and what prayerful traditions or bundles need to be more tightly preserved and kept private.

Joining Cultural Survival

I felt I needed to be a part of Cultural Survival because it knows and centers Indigenous people in all aspects of the organization. Our staff is mainly Indigenous with many Indigenous women. Working in Cultural Survival has taught me the significance of connecting with Indigenous people from all directions, showing me that we will only overcome colonialism if we work and build together.

WEAVING OF NASA MEANING INTO LIFE

MARIA VIOLET MEDINA QUISQUE

Esénia Bañuelos (CS INTERN)

Maria Violet Medina Quisque (Nasa) is a mosaic of light. From her origins as a young girl in Pueblo Nasa to Indigenous rights defense leader, international Indigenous women’s rights activist, and licensed psychologist; from the time she spends as a textile-weaver in an Indigenous intersectional community to her support of the Indigenous-led coffee-harvesting effort of CafeMediNasa, Maria credits her many accomplishments to her Indigenous roots.

Pueblo Nasa is where Maria’s love and commitment to the art of textile-weaving emerged, a tradition that she says “reassigns meaning to life, one inherited from our grandfathers, our grandmothers in the Indigenous pueblos.” She notes that the burst of colors reflected in Nasa art is simultaneously “an act of resistance, a bridge to a connection between ourselves and nature.” Weaving remains a constant in Maria’s life, as she recognizes that women of the Embera, Kamensta, Inga, and Nasa Peoples are weavers. Her leadership in the fight for Indigenous rights in Colombia is never divorced from her identity as a Nasa woman, something she reiterates this in every stitch of her textiles. “We combine color with cosmologies; we write in our weaving, our grandparents taught us,” she says.

“In our weaving, we prove that the pueblos have not disintegrated. We are integral. We are medicine, dance, culture, the defenders of life, of land, of water. We are merchants. We are everything. We sing. That is what our grandparents taught us and what we seek to pass to our children. All of that comes through in my weaving, the earrings, and bracelets I make. I do this with a community of women with care, love, and sometimes sadness.”

More and more, Indigenous work is being appropriated and commercialized by non-Indigenous capitalistic entities. The textiles that Maria and women in the other pueblos weave contain an infinite symbology, a breadth of meaningmaking technologies, that are copied “soullessly” by capitalist enterprise. “It is incredibly disheartening to see this, knowing that our art is history. Five hundred years ago, this art was a tool that we used among the pueblos. One can carry around a morral, a bag. What today is just called ‘art’ was an instrument of work. We made the earrings, the manillas (handles), trying to show

other women that they are beautiful and to bring out that beauty. Multinational companies just want to sell our art without the meaning that we in the pueblos know they carry,” she laments.

At the Cultural Survival Bazaar, Maria represents not only the many women that have weaved the textiles and crafted jewelry, but also Indigenous-led coffee harvesting via CafeMediNasa. Coffee cultivation is significant and sacred. It is entirely organic and unprocessed with chemicals that may harm consumers’ physical health. “It is all medicinal, so the company is named MediNasa. MediNasa is a nickname, but it also reflects the community effort,” she explains. CafeMediNasa is composed of young women and campesinos who have been devastated by the armed conflict in Colombia. “One way that violence has emerged against these communities is through forced labor, and specifically the harvesting of coffee beans,” Maria says. “Young women and children are often the most brutalized in this process. In my work as a human rights leader, I help them sell their products. Three hundred families are involved in CafeMediNasa, and 1,600 people have been involved in the cultivation of the coffee. They cultivate it, they decide how much they will sell, and for how much.”

Maria is on a mission to restore the rights of Indigenous artisans, cultivators, and nurturers of the land and life that have been denied on an international scale. “One of my responsibilities is not simply to be a visible face for those who have created the work, but to ensure that they have the same opportunity to be seen,” she says. In the future, Maria says she hopes that more opportunities like the Cultural Survival Bazaar will emerge and provide opportunities for Indigenous artisans communities around the world to be recognized and celebrated as the owners of their work.

Don't miss the Cultural Survival Bazaars! July 19–20: Newburyport, MA • July 25–27: Tiverton, RI bazaar.cs.org

Coffee is grown by CafeMediNasa in Colombia.

Maria Violet Medina Quisque and examples of her beautiful beadwork.

Photos by courtesy of Maria Violet Medina Quisque.