CSQ 474: Indigenous-led Conversation - Hope for the Future of the Planet

Cultural Survival Q

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INDIGENOUS-LED CONSERVATION Hope for the Future of the Planet

VOL. 47, ISSUE 4 • DECEMBER 2023 US $4.99/CAN $6.99

D EC EM BER 2023 V OL UME 4 7, ISSU E 4 BOARD OF DIRECTORS PRESIDENT

Kaimana Barcarse (Kanaka Hawai’i)

VICE PRESIDENT

John King

TREASURER

Steven Heim CLERK

Nicole Friederichs

Valine Brown (Haida) Kate R. Finn (Osage) Laura Graham Richard A. Grounds (Yuchi/Seminole) Stephen Marks Marissa Nuvayestewa (Tewa and Hopi) 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 Copyright 2023 by Cultural Survival, Inc. Cultural Survival Quarterly (ISSN 0740-3291) is published quarterly by Cultural Survival, Inc. at PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Periodical postage paid at Boston, MA 02205 and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Cultural Survival, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Printed on recycled paper in the U.S.A. Please note that the views in this magazine are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Cultural Survival.

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FEATURES

DEPARTMENTS

12 Models of Indigenous-Led Conservation— A Love Story Cristina Mormorunni (Métis, Sardo) In June, the Blackfeet Nation made history when it returned buffalo to their homelands that colonizing forces had removed over a century ago.

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Executive Director’s Message

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In the News

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Indigenous Arts From Oak Flat to Spiro: Enduring Indigenous Connections to Copper

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Rights in Action South Africa Exchange Explores Free, Prior and Informed Consent

14 Living in Sacred Relationship with Our Ancestral Territory in the Sierra Nevada A conversation with Seyaru’kwingumum, Co-director of Ofrenda A’bunna, who is leading his Arhuaco community to be a model of Indigenous-led conservation.

16 The Radical Optimism of Youth Working Towards Protecting Herring—and Renewal 8 Youth Voices Robert Mutua Mila (Kamba) Hartman Deetz (Mashpee Wampanoag) In Mashpee, MA, Native Environmental 10 Women the World Ambassadors are leading the way for Must Hear solutions by protecting their homeland Raquel Tsahuanda (Shuar) with Rights of Nature.

18 Promoting Coexistence through Indigenous Knowledge in Maasai Mara An interview with Nelson Ole Reiyia (Maasai), Co-founder of the Nashulai Maasai Conservancy.

20 Conservation Is at the Heart of Traditional Knowledge in Fiji Ratu Emori Ganilau, Isikeli Kainaigani, Aliti Verevou The protection of Traditional Knowledge and stewardship of the environment is evident and strong in the village of Nasau.

26 Keepers of the Earth Fund Grant Partner Spotlight Coletivo Mura de Porto Velho 28 Staff Spotlight Candyce Testa (Pequot) 29 Bazaar Artists Tigris Handmade (Kurdish)

22 Saving Our Great Wild Transboundary Rivers in Alaska Lee Wagner (Tsimshian, Haida, and Łingít) The Tsimshian, Haida, and Łingít Peoples have been the Unuk River’s customary caretakers for over 10,000 years.

24 A Call to Champion Sustainable Use of Wildlife as an Indigenous Rights Issue Lesle Jansen (Khoikhoi) and Joe Goergen In South Africa, Indigenous Peoples have formed community-based organizations to manage the use of natural resources and wildlife.

Cover: Blackfeet Tribal members ride horseback as the Blackfeet Buffalo Program drives the buffalo herd from winter to summer pasture in Montana (see page 10). Photo by Louise Johns.

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR’S MESSAGE

We Are the Stewards of the Earth

CULTURAL SURVIVAL STAFF

Dear Cultural Survival Community,

Mark Camp, Deputy Executive Director

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s we close out 2023, I want to thank you for your ongoing partnership and support of Cultural Survival. Our team and community partners led a year filled with global impact and collaboration that wouldn’t be possible without you.

This issue of the Cultural Survival Quarterly is dedicated to uplifting a few of the many stories of Indigenous-led stewardship and care of the Earth. As Indigenous people, we continue to battle fortress conservation efforts that displace us from our lands and territories and restrict access to our environments in the name of conservation. The 30x30 initiative, a worldwide initiative for governments to designate 30 percent of Earth's land and ocean area as protected areas by 2030, is one of the greatest threats to Indigenous Peoples unless our Indigenous leadership, participation, and knowledge is prioritized in the management of natural resources and environments. Indigenous communities are the guardians and keepers of the Earth.

We make up just over 6 percent of the world’s population, but we steward 25 percent of the Earth’s surface and 40 percent of intact ecosystems, and we protect 80 percent of the planet’s remaining biodiversity. This is no coincidence; we have millennia-old knowledge, traditions, lifeways, and relationships with our lands and territories. Our Indigenous-led solutions hold the answers to many of today’s pressing problems, including climate change, biodiversity loss, pollution from fossil fuel extraction, economic destruction, food insecurity, and language loss.

As an Indigenous woman, and for my people, ceremony is the ultimate conservation. On my ancestral land in

2023 Statement of Ownership, Management, and Circulation

Siberia on the shores of Lake Baikal, we hold ceremony in a pine grove. Every year we check the condition of the pines, because in our belief system, every tree represents a lineage in our clan. If we see that a tree is dying, we know that one of the families is not going to have continuation in their lineage. In recent years we have seen many trees dying, and asked our youth to plant seedlings. This is our form of conservation.Indigenousled conservation is rooted in our relationships with our environments and our ancestral teachings. There is no single solution for protecting the planet and biodiversity, as solutions are all place-based. There are many different ways Indigenous Peoples globally manage their lands and waters.

However, we need access to, and control over, our lands.

Support Indigenous people in continuing to care for and protect our lands, ensure that we are engaged in decisionmaking, and act in solidarity with us as we secure title to, reclaim, and reoccupy our traditional homelands. Contribute to securing a future guided by the wisdom and leadership of Indigenous Peoples by donating to our end of the year campaign to help us reach our ambitious $250,000 end-of-year goal. We can’t continue our work without you. Please give generously at www.cs.org/donate.

As we walk into the new year filled with gratitude and compassion, we wish you a healthy, prosperous, just, and peaceful holiday season and New Year.

In gratitude,

Galina Angarova (Buryat), Executive Director Avexnim Cojtí (Maya K’iche’), Director of Programs Verónica Aguilar (Mixtec), Program Assistant, Keepers of the Earth Fund Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (Quechua), Keepers of the Earth Program Assistant

Miguel Cuc Bixcul (Maya Kaqchikel), Accounting Associate Jess Cherofsky, Advocacy Program Manager Michelle de León, Executive Assistant

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

Alison Guzman, Donor Relations Coordinator Emma Hahn, Development Associate Natalia Jones, Advocacy Associate

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

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

Carlos Madrigal (Mazahua/Jñatjo), Capacity Building Program Assistant Jamie Malcolm-Brown, Communications & Information Technology Manager

Cesar Gomez Moscut (Pocomam), Community Media Program Coordinator

Edson Krenak Naknanuk (Krenak), Lead on Brazil Diana Pastor (Maya K’iche’), Media Coordinator Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua), Indigenous Rights Radio Producer

Agnes Portalewska, Senior Communications Manager Tia-Alexi Roberts (Narragansett), Editorial & Communications Associate

Carlos Sopprani, Human Resources Associate

Candyce Testa (Pequot), Bazaar Events Manager Sócrates Vásquez (Ayuujk), Program Manager, Community Media

Galina Angarova (Buryat) Executive Director

Miranda Vitello, Development Coordinator

Candy Williams, Human Resources Manager

Raquel Xiloj (Maya K’iche’), Community Media Grants Coordinator

1. Publication Title: Cultural Survival Quarterly 2. Publication Number: 0740-3291 3. Filing Date: September 13, 2023 4. Issue Frequency: Quarterly 5. Number of Issues Published Annually: Four 6. Annual Subscription Price: $45.00 7. Mailing Address of Publication: 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140 8. Mailing Address of Publisher Headquarters: 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140 9. Full Mailing Address and Complete Names of Publisher, Editor, and Managing Editor-Publisher: Cultural Survival, Inc. 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140, Editor/Managing Editor: Agnes Portalewska, Cultural Survival, 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140 10. Owner: Cultural Survival, Inc., 2067 Massachusetts Ave. Cambridge, MA 02140 11. Known Bondholders, Mortgagees, and Other Securities: None 12. Tax Status: The purpose, function, and nonprofit status for federal income tax purposes has not changed during the preceding 12 months 13. Publication Title: Cultural Survival Quarterly 14.

Issue Date for Circulation Data Below: September 2023-Issue 47, Volume 3 15. Extent and Nature of Circulation: Subscription to members a. Total Number of Copies: Average No. Copies Each Issue During Preceding 12 Months: 2000; Actual No. Copies of Single Issue Published Nearest to Filing Date: 2000 b. Paid and/or Requested Circulation-1.

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Pablo Xol (Maya Qʼeqchiʼ), Design and Marketing Associate

INTERNS

Miriam Abel, Francesco Cricchio, Blair Darian, Nina Kaufmann, Sing Mong Marma, Deisy Pérez Xiloj, Avi Reyes García

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 1

IN TH E N E W S

Yasuní National Park in Ecuador is one of the richest areas on the planet for the diversity of birds, trees, mammals, and amphibians.

Photo courtesy of Matt Hewitt.

Ecuador | A Win for Indigenous Rights: Oil Drilling Banned in Yasuní AUGUST

Ecuadorian citizens voted in a historic referendum to keep over 726 million barrels of oil underground in the Yasuní National Park, located within the northern Amazon rainforest, the homelands of the Waorani, Tagaeri, and Taromenane Peoples. This is the first time that citizens from an oil-producing country were able to decide on the limits of resource extraction.

Borneo | Indigenous Forest Defenders Reach Settlement with Timber Giant SEPTEMBER

After intense international pressure, timber company Samling dropped a lawsuit against Indigenous grassroots organization SAVE Rivers, who were campaigning to protect their forests from logging in Borneo.

U.S. | Solenex LLC v. Haaland Decided in Favor of Blackfeet Nation SEPTEMBER

Louisiana-based company Solenex will retire its gas and oil lease in the BadgerTwo Medicine after reaching a settlement with the Blackfeet Nation in Solenex LLC v. Haaland. Badger-Two Medicine, known as Miistakis in Blackfoot, holds profound spiritual, cultural, and historical significance for the Nation.

U.S. | Mohicans to Reclaim 351 Acres of Homeland AUGUST

After nearly 200 years of separation from their traditional homelands, the

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Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Mohicans is prepared to purchase 351 acres of land back. This victory is part of a larger #LandBack movement of Indigenous Nations reclaiming their land and highlights Indigenous land repatriation and management as a method to improve climate resilience.

Philippines | Supreme Court Supports Pala’wan Land Rights SEPTEMBER

The Pala’wan community in the Philippines has won an 18-year fight against a plan to mine nickel in a protected area.

The community argued that the proposed mining would cause irreparable damage to both the protected area and the community living there.

Canada | BC Supreme Court Rules that Mineral Claims Need Indigenous Consultation

SEPTEMBER

The British Columbia Supreme Court issued a landmark ruling in favor of Gitxaala and Ehattesaht First Nations that Indigenous Nations must be consulted before companies can make mineral claims on their lands.

struggle to advance reconciliation and recognition in contemporary Australia.

Brazil | Brazil’s Supreme Court Rules Against Controversial Marco Temporal SEPTEMBER

Brazil’s Supreme Court has rejected the controversial Marco Temporal, a legislative proposal that interprets the Constitution to limit the rights of Indigenous Peoples to the lands they physically occupied on the date of the 1988 Federal Constitution. In its ruling, the Constitutional Court has shown vigilance in its paramount duty to protect the fundamental rights of Indigenous Peoples in Brazil.

Indonesia | Indonesia Grants Largest Indigenous Forest Claim to Date to Bornean Dayaks SEPTEMBER

The Indonesian government has officially acknowledged 70,000 hectares (about 173,000 acres), the largest expanse of forests to date, within the ancestral territory of an Indigenous group in Borneo.

This recognition, which was sought by 15 Indigenous Dayak communities, was granted after 11 years of application.

Australia | Australia Rejects Formal Inclusion of Indigenous Voice in Constitution

Tanzania | Maasai Celebrate Partial Victory After High Court Ruling

A proposal to formally recognize Aboriginal people in Australia’s constitution and establish an advisory body for Indigenous issues has been rejected by Australians. For many Indigenous advocates, this defeat is a setback in their ongoing

On September 19, the High Court in Arusha declared that the land theft of 1,502 square kilometers, called Pololeti Game Controlled Area in Loliondo, was null and void because of a lack of consultation and for having been replaced by a Pololeti Game Reserve declared by the president.

OCTOBER

SEPTEMBER

ADVOCACY UPDATES

Paraguay: Yvy Pyte Community Under Continual Attack by Invaders (OCTOBER) The Yvy Pyte community of the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples have been facing ongoing attacks since 2021 by outsiders who have invaded and deforested their territories. On October 22, Arnaldo Benítez Vargas, one of the spiritual leaders of Yvy Pyte, was killed by people linked to the land invasions. Cultural Survival reiterates our support and calls on the international community for solidarity to support them in defending and protecting their land against the violence they are suffering. We also call on national and local authorities, specifically the Paraguayan Indigenous Institute, the Prosecutor’s office, and the police, to take action to stop the attacks.

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European Union: SIRGE Coalition Applauds Recognition of Right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent in EU’s Draft Critical Raw Materials Act (SEPTEMBER) The Securing Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in the Green Economy (SIRGE) Coalition celebrates the European Parliament’s inclusion of Indigenous Peoples’ right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent as enumerated in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in their official position on the Critical Raw Materials Act, adopted September 14, 2023. The Critical Raw Materials Act seeks to contribute to the development of a green economy in the EU that promises to be environmentally and socially responsible.

While the SIRGE Coalition recognizes this as a positive step towards the recognition of Indigenous rights, it acknowledges that the law fails to fully recognize the sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples and calls on European member states to follow the European Parliament’s leadership and adopt Critical Raw Materials legislation that guarantees the rights of Indigenous Peoples, including the right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent.

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Brazil: Report Honors Lives Lost of 13 Indigenous Defenders (NOVEMBER) The University of California Network for Human Rights and Digital FactFinding, in partnership with Cultural Survival, published a Story Map on Indigenous land defenders who have been killed in Brazil. The first part of the report profiles 13 Indigenous leaders and land defenders from 7 regions in Brazil killed between 2019–2022.

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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.

The second section includes additional information on the seven Brazilian states in which the defenders were killed (Amapá, Amazonas, Bahia, Maranhão, Mato Grosso, and Mato Grosso do Sul), and six other states that were identified as emerging sites of concern for possible threats and targeting of Indigenous land defenders: Acre, Pará, Paraná, Rio Grande do Sul, Rondônia, and Roraima. The 13 lives and deaths portrayed in this report are, tragically, only a small glimpse into the larger crisis of hundreds of murders of Indigenous Peoples in Brazil and reflect a deeper systemic issue. Access the report at cs.org/latest.

Global: Cultural Survival and First Peoples Worldwide Publish Guide on Free, Prior and Informed Consent (OCTOBER) On October 9, Indigenous Peoples Day, Cultural Survival and First Peoples Worldwide released Securing Indigenous Peoples’ Right to Self-Determination: A Guide on Free, Prior and Informed Consent to support Indigenous leaders in developing FPIC protocols and securing self-determined priorities of their communities. The aim is to provide clear information for frontline defenders who deal with investors and government officials seeking to develop projects that may affect Indigenous communities. The 60-page, illustrated document draws from resources, case studies, legal and legislative precedent, and firsthand experiences of Indigenous communities around the world. The guide will be available in Spanish, Russian, Portuguese, French, and several Indigenous languages in the next few months.

The guide is available at www.sirgecoalition.org/fpic-guide.

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Mexico: Thirteen Indigenous Communities Gather for Second FPIC Exchange (OCTOBER) As a followup to last year’s exchange of experiences on Free, Prior and Informed Consent, Cultural Survival hosted a second convening in Merida, Yucatan, on October 5-7, 2023, with partners from the region as well as participants from Costa Rica and Peru.

Participants engaged in dialogue about how to defend their territories and communities from megaproject development through self-determination processes. Stories and strategies about Free, Prior and Informed Consent were shared and new alliances were made among participating representatives of the Ayuujk, Binnizá, Bribri, Chontal, Maijuna, Maya, Murvi Buee, Nahua, Ñuu Savi, Otomí, Purepecha, Tsotsil, and Tzeltal Peoples.

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__________________ Read more news at www.cs.org/latest.

Cultural Cultural Survival Survival Quarterly Quarterly December December 2023 2023

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IND I GE N O U S ART S

From Oak Flat to Spiro

ENDURING INDIGENOUS CONNECTIONS TO COPPER

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Bobbie Chew Bigby (CHEROKEE) Top: Artist Tracy Newkumet (Caddo) wearing her regalia.

Photo by Tracy Newkumet.

Middle: A copper leaf from the memorialized oak tree signed by sculptor Jason Youd.

Photo by Bobbie Chew Bigby.

Bottom: A detailed look at a Caddo dush-too and German silver head comb.

Photo by Bobbie Chew Bigby.

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n the lands of the San Carlos Apache in southeastern Arizona, a fight continues between Apache Tribal members and two multinational mining giants over the proposed extraction of copper. At stake is the site of Chi’chil Biłdagoteel, known in English as Oak Flat, which has, and continues to, represent a sacred landscape for the Apache. Apart from Oak Flat’s role as an environment for prayer and medicinal plant gathering, this landscape is particularly important as a site where young Apache women take part in comingof-age ceremonies. These significant cultural and spiritual relationships that Apache people actively maintain with the living landscape of Chi’chil Biłdagoteel make it difficult for many Apaches to accept the proposed plans by Resolution Copper to build one of the largest copper mines in the world. Adding to the gravity of the situation is the fact that the proposed block cave mining technique to access the copper ore would obliterate the mountain, turning it into a two-mile-wide crater on ecologically diverse federal lands that are part of the Tonto National Forest.

Based on increasing political and popular support for what have been labeled “green” energy transitions (renewable energies and technologies that move away from carbon), certain transition metals, including copper, lithium, cobalt, and nickel, are deemed critical because they are required components in manufacturing batteries for electric vehicles and related technologies. As countries throughout Europe and the United States race against China for dominance in the electric vehicle market, the conversations and plans around obtaining the supplies of necessary minerals have become more urgent. Yet, in the eyes of numerous Indigenous communities, as well as an increasing number of environmental scientists, these plans are fraught with risks and unacceptable consequences.

As a result of the threats to Oak Flat, members of the San Carlos Apache Tribal community created the Apache Stronghold, a nonprofit organization that fights for Oak Flat and Apache relationships with this sacred site. Apache Stronghold has been the leading party in a lawsuit against the U.S. government aimed at preventing the transfer of this land— which has immense religious and cultural importance to Apache people—to the mining companies. And while the struggle at Oak Flat points to the deep, sustained relationships Indigenous Peoples have always had to the lands

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where copper can be found, many Indigenous Peoples have also long had significant relationships to the copper itself.

In Oklahoma Indian Country, one does not need to travel far in any direction to find strong relationships between Native people and copper. Beginning with the Caddos, one of the original Tribal Nations to have called present-day Oklahoma part of its traditional homeland area, the story of connections to copper can be seen as layered, complex, and enduring. A critical set of perspectives on these traditional and present-day relationships to copper comes through the voice of Tracy Newkumet (Caddo/ Delaware), a highly accomplished traditional regalia maker and artist with decades of experience across sewing, beadwork, jewelry making, and clothing design.

Between approximately 1000–1450 AD, Spiro was the seat of a highly sophisticated cultural community that was closely linked to trade through the Arkansas River, and by extension, the Mississippi River. Copper played a central role for the community at Spiro, particularly as seen in the diverse and intricate copper headdresses, repoussé plates, ear spools, axes, needles, and beads. In certain cases, objects such as masks and rattles were covered in copper.

Many of the copper repoussé plates were adorned with dancers in specific regalia, hawks, and unique geometric motifs. The ingenuity shown in the diverse array of uses for copper is a testament to the traditional value of the metal for the people of Spiro, both in terms of the practicalities of everyday life, as well as in use for ceremonial and spiritual functions.

Centuries later, throughout the period of contact with European traders and settlers, Caddo women, along with numerous other Tribal Nations of the eastern woodlands, began to wear the dush-too— a black, hourglass-shaped headpiece worn by women that is often embellished with metal studs, beads, or mirrors and long, flowing ribbons of water silk that are also adorned with metal, mirrors, or bells.

German silver, which is an alloy of nickel, copper and zinc, is the most common metal for studs and medallions on dush-toos. Newkumet points out that many of these new trade items, particularly alloys containing copper, were coming from Asia and the Middle East via the Silk Road.

“The blending of cultures on the Silk Road all came together and directly benefited us as Native Americans,” she says.

Newkumet’s emphasis on the importance of the Silk Road trade to Native Peoples is a perspective rarely heard in the dominant narratives of European influence and trade with Native Nations. In tying these connections together, she posits, “I can imagine a world in which our Native Peoples would have been able to trade and exchange without the intermediaries of European traders. I can imagine our communities, who really elevated these materials into something special for our Native cultures, interacting directly with those communities in Asia that produced these fine goods that traveled the Silk Road.”

Apart from the Caddo dush-toos, German silver hair combs, and brass bells that Newkumet uses, creates, and handles on a daily basis, her relationship with copper recently took a deeply personal turn. In the spring of 2019, a group of Caddo Nation Tribal members went to visit the Caddo Mounds State Historic Site in Alto, Texas for the site’s annual Caddo Culture Day. The area where the mounds are located is part of the Tribe’s traditional homelands and also the southwesternmost ceremonial site of their Caddoan ancestors. In the midst of the day’s activities a tornado struck the area, decimating the traditional Caddo grass house and the heritage museum, and injured numerous Caddo and non-Caddo visitors.

Newkumet and her daughter were in attendance that day and experienced the devastation caused by the shahó (tornado). Afterward, Newkumet immediately noted that shahó had taken something else that she had deeply loved at the Caddo Mounds site—a large oak tree cherished by so many. She describes the tree, her “favorite tree on the planet … it had moss on its left side, like a human body where the heart is strongest on the left side. This tree had four sections and when you would look up at it from below, you could see how your heart would work with the four chambers.” Shahó had destroyed this oak tree, and with that, had added to the trauma and sadness experienced by the survivors.

With support from the Texas Historical Commission and inspired by Newkumet’s calls to commemorate the tree, planning for a tree memorial was started alongside the reconstruction of the museum and traditional grass house.

Sculptor and metalworker Jason Youd was invited to create a steel tree that would memorialize the spectacular fallen oak, as well as honor those survivors of the devastation that occurred on that day. Newkumet made the special request that individual leaves made of copper be attached to the tree, with each copper leaf bearing the name of a survivor.

Erecting this tree in the Snake Woman’s garden site at the mounds, Newkumet says her healing journey started from those copper leaves, on which she wrote her name and ‘Dóh Neshay’ (I keep going, keep trying).

Newkumet’s stories that connect copper’s cultural and ceremonial significance to Caddo people, both in the deep past and present day, share resonances with the spirit behind the Apache Stronghold movement and the value it places in honoring land, water, and all lifeforms. These histories show that Indigenous connections to all of creation, whether it is a transition mineral or the living lands upon which those metals are found, are layered, complex, and enduring. The struggle for Oak Flat continues through the ongoing lawsuit of Apache Stronghold v. United States to defend and honor the gifts of our living world.

Bobbie Chew Bigby (Cherokee) is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Waterloo, Ontario, Canada, where she researches the intersections between Indigenous-led tourism and resurgence.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 5

R IG H TS I N ACT I O N

SOUTH AFRICA EXCHANGE EXPLORES FREE, PRIOR AND INFORMED CONSENT AS THE FIRST LINE OF DEFENSE FOR INDIGENOUS COMMUNITIES Bradley Van Sitters of the Mountain 12 conducted an opening ceremony for an exchange on Free, Prior and Informed Consent in Cape Town, South Africa.

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n September 20–24, 2023, overlooking Hoerikwaggoa (Table Mountain) in Cape Town, South Africa, Indigenous people from Africa and abroad gathered to exchange experiences about implementing the right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) in the context of mineral extraction. Free, Prior and Informed Consent is fundamental to the self-determination of Indigenous Peoples. It is enshrined in International Labour Organization Convention 169 and the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, among other international legal instruments.

Indigenous Peoples must be consulted prior to the execution of any project in their territories and, whether or not they grant consent, they must be the exclusive decision-makers. The right to FPIC flows from Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determination; it encompasses and protects all rights of Indigenous Peoples, including land rights, collective rights and participatory rights. FPIC is specifically mentioned as a prerequisite for any activity that affects Indigenous communities in the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

The event was attended by over 50 participants from organizations and communities in South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Kenya, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the United States. The exchange was shared and co-hosted by partner organizations First Peoples Worldwide, Earthworks, The Indigenous Peoples of Africa Co-ordinating Committee, Natural Justice, Southern Africa

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Resource Watch, Jamma International, and the Securing Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in the Green Economy (SIRGE) Coalition, of which Cultural Survival is a founding member.

A welcoming ceremony called out to historic figures from the North, South, East, and West. Harry the beachcomber, or Autsumao, an ancestor who was summoned during the ceremony, was a famous early resident of Blaauberg Beach, where the conference was held, along with the Goringhaikona People, who inhabited the area thousands of years ago. The descendents of Khoikhoi people are doing much to revitalize the cultures and languages of their ancestors. The Mountain 12, a collective of Khoi and San Peoples whose members were arrested in 2021 after reclaiming their ancestral rights over the sacred mountain of Hoerikwaggoa, welcomed the delegates and partners to the conference.

Ouma Katrina Esau (Nama), a respected Elder in South Africa, opened the proceedings with her son, daughter, and granddaughter, Claudia, in a N/uu song. Ouma (grandmother in Afrikaans) Katrina is the last fluid speaker of the N/uu language, which she has been teaching to her granddaughter in an effort to keep their culture alive. Ouma Katrina described some of the hardships that she and other South African communities have endured since colonization, which have resulted in the loss of many Indigenous languages: “Our lands were stolen and we woke up with the bible in our hands. Our language was stolen. They subdivided us, then they took our minerals and sent everything abroad. We were so rich but now we are poor. All of our riches have been moved abroad.”

Several sessions focused on understanding FPIC as a

fundamental right for Indigenous Peoples and as a tool to advocate for their self-determination in different spaces and situations. Participants spoke about the impact of mining for transition minerals in Indigenous territories, which contain significant amounts of untapped heavy metal reserves around the world. Of 5,097 mining projects globally that involve some 30 minerals used in renewable energy technologies such as electric vehicles, solar panels, and wind turbines, 54 percent are located on or near Indigenous Peoples’ lands and territories. Speakers exchanged information on how the exploitation of these resources violates Indigenous Peoples’ rights in the transition to a “green economy.”

About 80 percent of the world’s remaining biodiversity is managed by Indigenous Peoples, but irresponsible mining threatens it. There is a critical need to support affected and at-risk Indigenous communities to exercise their right to self-determination and Free, Prior and Informed Consent when mining for transition minerals is proposed on their territories. It is vital that Indigenous Peoples are prepared to engage with companies attempting to exploit their territories in order to protect their right to FPIC. As discussions unfolded, it became clear that Indigenous Peoples share similar experiences of dispossession and limited access to information about the green economy and its association with mining activities. Donatien Kambola, a lawyer and defender of the rights of populations in mining areas in the Democratic Republic of Congo, said, “I want to say to Belgium: you took our copper, you took our cobalt, and you became rich. After colonization, the system of mining that exploited the land in favor of the multinational and foreign industry continued. Yes, it’s good for the environment to buy an electric vehicle, but you have to make sure that cobalt was mined in good conditions.”

In addition to the technical sessions, participants shared their specific experiences and listened to others talk about the negative impacts that their communities have suffered from mining activities. Two defining factors emerged that distinguish the struggles of Indigenous Peoples in the African region: one is the fight to maintain their individual cultures, languages, and traditions. At the same time, there is a need to expand the sense of community to enable Indigenous Peoples to work collectively towards the defense of their territories and resources. This point was emphasized

by Bradley Van Sitters, a member of the Mountain 12, who urged attendees to reflect on mechanisms to work together and to learn from each others’ experiences, because, in the end, “Your fight, my brother, is ours, and ours is yours.”

Chilekwa Mumba, an environmentalist activist from Chingola, Zambia who organized a lawsuit against a copper mining company responsible for the severe contamination of his community from toxic waste, encouraged participants to prioritize Indigenous customs and values when engaging with corporations. “We shouldn’t just let corporations take over our land without proper consideration of who we are

and where we have been. These corporations will bring about destruction of our normal way of life, and a tree without roots cannot stand. . . . If we make sure we’re educating our communities, we can hold these companies to account in a much higher way than we are doing right now,” Mumba said.

Lesle Jansen (Khoikhoi), a lawyer, spoke about the status of Indigenous rights in South Africa. Jansen led a groundbreaking case in South Africa that established that Khoikhoi and San Peoples hold intellectual property rights to the Rooibos plant, and defined a benefit-sharing system where Khoikhoi and San Peoples are now paid 1.5 percent of Rooibos sales. Jansen also remarked on the importance of keeping African communities informed about FPIC, the green economy, and its implications in Indigenous territories in order to move forward in benefit of Indigenous Peoples.

“We are fighting for self-determination, and FPIC is the car that brings us there,” Jansen said.

Galina Angarova (Buryat), Cultural Survival Executive Director, and Kate Finn (Osage), First Peoples Worldwide Executive Director, presented a new guide on Free, Prior and Informed Consent for Indigenous leaders to develop FPIC protocols and secure self-determined priorities of their communities. “As more and more Indigenous Peoples forward their own FPIC processes and protocols to assert their rights, this guide collates many of the questions, considerations and actions that Indigenous Peoples have made with their priorities and activation on FPIC. This guide reflects many of the lived experiences and real world considerations that Indigenous Peoples face, and we are grateful for the contributions and work Indigenous leaders around the world have made to this guide and to their communities,” Angarova commented.

As the first event of its kind hosted by Cultural Survival and our partner organizations in the African region, the participants allowed us to better understand their situations while demonstrating that the true and valuable knowledge about Indigenous Peoples is in the communities—and that is where we should look for answers and solutions. While rampant capitalism represented by multinational corporations is determined to dispossess Indigenous Peoples from their resources, a true Just Transition to a green economy cannot happen at the expense of Indigenous Peoples.

It must be led by Indigenous Peoples, who have always been, and remain, the stewards of the Earth.

Left: Ouma Katrina Esau (Nama) shares about her work on revitalizing the N/uu langauge.

Right: Kate Finn (Osage) and Galina Angarova (Buryat) present the new FPIC guide for Indigenous leaders.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 7

YO U TH VO I CES

YOUTH MITIGATING THE IMPACTS OF CLIMATE CHANGE in Arid Kola, Kenya

Robert Mutua Mila (Kamba).

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Nina Kaufmann (CS INTERN) “

e chose not to farm everywhere.

We chose to protect a certain area.

We develop it for trees, and right now those trees are being cut down just because someone wants to sell charcoal,” says Robert Mutua Mila (Kamba), a Cultural Survival Youth Fellow. Presently, Kenya ranks as the 31st most vulnerable country to the impacts of climate change. Droughts and floods are causing significant disruptions to livelihoods and increasing endangerment of the environment and human lives.

This year alone, there is a projected 43 percent increase in food insecurity in the country, and the resultant migration caused by drought is steadily on the rise. Deforestation and charcoal production are exacerbating this dire situation.

Mila is an eyewitness to these extreme climate changes in his country. He is part of the Motherland Project (Kamba/ Gikuyu) located in Kola, Makueni County in eastern Kenya, a region characterized by an arid climate that has been severely affected by droughts and extreme floods. “We are still experiencing some change in the climate. From June to July, it’s normally the cold months. But this time we have experienced only a few cold days instead of the extreme cold that we’ve been used to. And there has been a mixture of hot days. It’s confusing how seasons are changing,” Mila says. Along with Mila, Joshua Mbindyo Mutunga, Chemitei J. Janet, Thereza Mercy Akello Onyango, Peter Kinyanjui, Elijah Muli, Ambrose Mugume, Kenneth Gitunda, and Alex Kamau are also part of the Motherland Project.

The primary goal of their fellowship project is to develop tools in collaboration with the Kamba community to address climate change and alleviate the harsh effects of drought and resulting hunger and food insecurity within the region.

Mila emphasizes the link between protecting the sanctity of the land and environmental conservation, stressing the urgent need to communicate these local issues to a broader

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audience as an educational tool. “It is high time to tell such stories because we need to protect the land, we need to protect the motherland,” he says. “It is not only me; many people need a voice to tell such stories.”

Among the initiatives of the Motherland Project are rainwater harvesting, tree planting, cultivation of droughtresistant crops, and beekeeping. These activities integrate community education and awareness programs that aim to promote practices like water conservation and farming, an integral part of the Kamba way of life. Cassava, millet, cowpeas, and grass are alternative crops to prevent soil erosion. To facilitate these training sessions, the team of youth worked in smaller working groups, each tasked with reaching out to 50 families within the community. They also have a Sustainability Committee to assess the project’s progress. The clans represented within this Kamba community include Atangwa, Aombe, Ekuua, and Aiini. Mila describes them as “like one tree with a deep root, a tree that has many branches. A clan is a family that has many branches belonging to one lineage.”

Discussing the historical aspect of land stewardship in his community, Mila says, “It is important to note that a long time ago, as the Elders tell me, people could graze without looking at the limits because the land was free and people had unity and love. With this union and love, people raised animals and had a lot of manure. The manure from the sheep, goats, and cows returned to the crops, which generated food for the family. That’s why we like to keep the culture alive.”

Mila observes birds and their organizational patterns as a model of community organization and a different perspective on land stewardship and preservation. He asks, “How can we protect our climate? How can we protect our trees with the understanding of the clan? As I experience the birds in their element, I observe the birds are free, and they know how to use their environment as a community and as a whole . . . they use every tree. They use the resources that are there equally. So, my understanding is to bring this type of thinking to the community. Our ancestors still hold All photos by Louise Johns.

the land, and why do we find ourselves in that position?

Right now, we are fighting for such a resource. So it’s high time to educate the public about the birds. How do the birds live in the air? They live freely.”

This perspective permeates the Motherland Project, which emphasizes traditional perspectives on land stewardship. Their approach to preservation views spaces and human interaction as interconnected. It leaves groups of trees intact in the territory, opposing restricted preservation models like fortress conservation, which involves isolating ecosystems from human interaction. By allowing the community to autonomously map preserved spaces in the territory and use their resources in a balanced manner, similar to how birds use tree resources, the project promotes community-based conservation perspectives.

Mila is keen to instigate this perspective within his community, given that many trees have been cut down for charcoal production in a sacred space that was later designated as State-protected land. He says, “You find that where our ancestors used to pray and dance, the trees still remain. Some have been cut down. Now it’s a government protected area, but it was supposed to be a community protected area. We want to change that perspective, let the community feel responsible for its environment and understand that their health depends on it. That’s what I advocate.”

The Motherland Project’s method of community land management and stewardship intersects with spirituality, in this case with a particular focus on the existence of trees and their relation to the shrines. This heritage is threatened by external cultures impacting the community, and the desperate search for alternative livelihoods has led to a shift in preservation methods. “There was a change,” Mila says. “There was a transition from us leaving the culture and adopting a new culture. People used to perform those dances and prayers; they were called here in our language of Ithembo. Ithembo was a place where people could come, perform dances, and pray to the gods, and the gods would bring back rain. But the interesting thing

about this space is that it was a must for the trees to be there. Trees have an important role in our space.”

To optimize cultivation, ensure tree health, and secure drought-resistant crops through rainwater harvesting, the youth members of the Motherland Project have developed a prototype mechanism for rainwater collection located in Kivani Young Organic Farmers in Kola. Rainwater is collected from house gutters and directed to a tank functioning as a cistern. This water is intended for growing organic food and indirectly benefits beekeeping practices while maintaining the microclimate within the territory, as water, vital for tree health, ensures pollination during flowering periods. Honey production is another potential means of livelihood, and is one of the practices developed in the project, involving the training of groups of young people in beekeeping processes and the creation of modern beehives through workshops.

The Motherland Project is deeply committed to grassroots work toward stewardship practices within the territory of the Kamba community. Their primary objective is to introduce community-based conservation models by implementing practices that mitigate the impacts of climate change. These practices offer alternative livelihood and income generation for the community, thereby reducing the impact of hunger, food insecurity, and water scarcity in the region. They also plan to develop educational materials for social media and manuals for schools, highlighting the importance of and practices of land stewardship, thus opening new avenues and potential pathways for future generations.

Left: Deforestation of the land due to resource extraction near Robert Mutua Mila’s community.

Right: This piece of land is still intact from deforestation in Robert Mutua Mila’s community as it is under conservation protection.

Cultural Survival’s Indigenous Youth Fellowship Program supports young Indigenous leaders between the ages of 17–28 who are eager to learn about technology, program development, journalism, community radio, media, and Indigenous Peoples’ rights advocacy. Since 2018, we have awarded 110 fellowships supporting 204 fellows.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 9

WO M E N T H E WO R L D M U ST HEAR

LAND STEWARDSHIP AND ENVIRONMENTAL ACTIVISM BY SHUAR PEOPLES OF YAMANUNKA: RAQUEL TSAHUANDA

Society documented 1,300 types of trees, 610 species of birds, 268 species of fish, and at least 200 species of mammals, including 13 types of primates, living in the Yasuní.

Raquel Tsahuanda (Shuar) was born and raised in the community of Yamanunka in the Sucumbíos region. From a young age, she showed interest in environmental issues.

Having witnessed the effects of extractivism on her land, she has become one of the most active women in the fight to protect life on her territory.

“No to Exploitation, Yes to Life:” The Fight for the Yasuní

Raquel Tsahuanda and a colleague during one of the activities of land monitoring.

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Francesco Cricchio (CS INTERN) he Shuar Peoples are one of the Indigenous nationalities living in the Ecuadorian Amazon rainforest. They have been working for many years on conservation strategies and land stewardship to mitigate biodiversity and wildlife loss on their lands. Recently, they played an important role also in the fight to protect the Yasuní National Park, located within the northern Amazon rainforest, the homelands of the Shuar, Waorani, Kichwa, Tagaeri, and Taromenane Peoples, among others. The Yasuní Biosphere Reserve, a 4,000-square mile national park in northeastern Ecuador on the border with Peru, is located at the intersection of the Andes, the equator, and the Amazon regions. A 2021 study by the Wildlife Conservation

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“No to Exploitation, Yes to Life:” this was the slogan created

by Yasunidos, a social movement that organized sit-ins and marches to decisive effect to achieve victory in the popular referendum to keep Yasuní Biosphere Reserve, one of the world’s richest places in terms of biodiversity, free from oil extraction and keep over 726 million barrels of oil underground. On August 20, following almost a decade of advocacy by Yasunidos to get the referendum on the ballot, 75 percent of the electorate participated in a historic turnout to make their voices heard with 54 percent of a “Yes” vote.

Ecuadorian citizens showed the world that they chose to prioritize life over profits. After the Minister of Energy and Mines initially rejected the results, the government subsequently issued an official statement reaffirming its commitment to respect the will of the people. This is the first time that citizens from an oil producing country were able to decide on the limits of resource extraction. A great part of this success can be attributed to the movement of Indigenous nationalities in the Amazon rainforest, who worked tirelessly to achieve this historical result.

Ecuador’s 2008 constitution was the first in the world to recognize legally enforceable Rights of Nature, codifying the Kichwa concept of sumak kawsay, abundant life in balance with nature.

“One of the most impactful events was carried out close to the referendum date when we organized a march in Puyo, a city located in the middle of the forest, which is also the headquarters of the Confederation of the Indigenous Nationalities of the Amazon,” Tsahuanda says. “We were in the middle of Yasuní territory together with our Waorani, Siona, Siekopaai, Cofán, and Kichwa brothers and sisters.

Among all these Nations, the presence of the Waorani was the most striking. They live deep inside the territory and in order to reach the march they had to navigate the river All photos courtesy of Raquel Tsahuanda, unless otherwise noted.

and walk through the forest for three days. Their effort and dedication was really contagious and confirmed once more that the fight we were carrying on was worth being fought.”

Reflecting on the difficulties Yasunidos faced in organizing a successful campaign, Tsahuanda says, “During the protest we had to fight against the [mainstream] media.

In Quito, there is a part of the population that does not understand our efforts and our fights. They are victims of fake news and they think that extractivism is the only viable way to achieve development. This situation made us reflect on the importance of community media. We insisted on using the [media outlets] that we have access to and that we developed in our region, and I believe that they played a very important role in achieving the victory. . . . The Yasuní campaign was a great success for our Peoples and for the future of the Amazon rainforest.”

Indigenous community media broadcast in Indigenous languages is essential to Indigenous organizing, awareness raising, and movement building. Community radio in particular plays a key role, as its universal and free nature gives many remote communities and Indigenous audiences access to information that they would not have otherwise.

Indigenous-produced programming strengthens Indigenous Peoples’ capacity to claim their rights and enables access to essential information and broadcasting in Indigenous languages that ensures widespread understanding and cultural continuity.

Biodiversity Restoration in Yamanunka

“I was born and raised in the community of Yamanunka, and over the years I observed how it has been affected by assimilationist practices from outside. The loss of our identity is something extremely serious that has been affecting us for many years. Here, as well as in other Shuar communities, we realized the danger that these acculturation processes represent for us, and for this reason we are designing projects of cultural revitalization. This is not an easy task: there are not a lot of Elders left in the community and the kids cannot speak our language. We do not have much time,” Tsahuanda warns.

Tsahuanda and her family believe that taking care of their land is a first and fundamental step toward cultural

revitalization. She studied land management in relation to climate change, and she is now working to map her territory through activities of land monitoring using some of the latest mapping technologies, such as ODK Collect. Because they often lack resources to hire a vehicle, for the last three years, Tsahuanda says she and her colleagues have been walking “up to five hours in order to get to the places from which we send our reports.” They cover all 8,800 hectares (about 40 square miles) of the municipality in order to get to the places affected by deforestation and use an app to upload data to a digital map to record the use of the land in the area in real time. “Right now, deforestation represents a huge issue, Tsahanda says. “The malanga (a tropical tuber) invades our land and brings heavy deforestation. It is, together with oil spills and the mecheros (gas leaks), surely among the biggest environmental issues that we are facing.”

The community of Yamanunka is actively working to combat deforestation. Twenty-seven women of the community came together to gather seeds of plants and trees at risk of extinction and are conducting activities of biological restoration. As Tsahuanda explains, “In order to find the seeds, we need to walk long distances inside, towards the heart of the forest, in areas that have not been affected by deforestation. Here we can find seeds that we will replant and use for our handicrafts.” She adds, “there are plants whose seeds have disappeared; they cannot be found anymore around our community. “In these cases we exchange them with other communities, or we look for them at the seed fairs, which are quite popular in the region.” Through these processes, native trees such as the ceibo, the chuncho, the laurel, the guayacán, and the cedar have all been restored.

The dedicated work of the Yamanunka women has restored a great part of the land. However, “the threat is constant,” Tsahuanda says, explaining how, along with deforestation, oil extraction is also raging. “The biggest well is located just 200 meters outside our territory. We still have access to some springs of clean water, but the risk that they will also be contaminated by one of the frequent oil spills is very high. If this happens, we would remain without any access to clean, drinkable water. It is a ticking bomb.”

Left: An event organized by Yasunidos in the Shushufindi province.

Photo courtesy of Union of People Affected by Chevron-Texaco–UDAPT.

Right: The results of a seed gathering.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 11

MODELS OF INDIGENOUSLED CONSERVATION— A LOVE STORY

Buffalo run out of the soft release enclosure towards Chief Mountain on the Blackfeet reservation in Montana, the first wild free roaming herd returned by a sovereign Indigenous Nation in 150 years.

Inset: Children collect buffalo fur from the corral at Buffalo Spirit Hills Ranch.

The fur is integral to the health of the grassland ecosystem, as certain species of birds use it to line and insulate their nests.

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Cristina Mormorunni/Issistsáakiiksi (MÉTIS & SARDO)

estern conservation remains singularly focused on numbers and data. Land conversion rates.

Extinction rates. CO2 emissions.

Acres protected. Miles connected.

While these data are no doubt important, they miss the most important point when it comes to the reality, and ultimately the resolution, of our collective planetary crisis: through Indigenous eyes, conservation is a relationship. This vital work is a devoted practice. In our ways, conservation is love fiercely expressed.

The West teaches that conservation is achieved through objectivity and analysis. We are told that effectiveness requires us to keep heart and spirit out of it. But it is clear that the biodiversity, climate, and social justice crises are, at their root, a relationship crisis. The solutions require much more of us than just intellect or logic. Collectively, we have forgotten what it is to be in relationship with the natural world. We have forgotten that Buffalo, Beaver, and Bear are our brothers and sisters, and as a result we have forgotten, and thus violated, the sacred treaties made long ago with these sacred beings. We no longer remember what it feels like on our tongues to speak Buffalo, to speak the language of relationship: Respect. Reciprocity. Responsibility. Rematriation. Reconciliation. Western conservation has been asking the wrong questions. In an increasingly fatal error, the collective forgets what our ancestors knew and lived, what our Knowledge Keepers are desperately trying to remind us about Natural Law, about the relationship and responsibilities we have to the Earth, and most

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importantly, about how we can live and act in ways that honor this sacred relationship and the intricate and dynamic planetary systems vital to life and our physical, material, and spiritual well being.

Our home planet is fast approaching an irreversible tipping point, a point where nature can no longer heal herself and life as we know it will become untenable. Among the mind-bending statistics highlighted in the 2019 United Nations Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services report: 1 million known species will disappear by 2050 unless radical measures are taken. More than 500,000 species are in effect “dead species walking,” meaning they have no chance of survival because of the expanding human footprint. Wild mammal biomass has plummeted by 82 percent, while humans and farm animals now make up 96 percent of all mammalian biomass on Earth.

There is no doubt our Mother is dying. We need to do everything we can to protect and heal this beautiful planet and all the exquisite beings we share her with. It is time we ask the right questions. It is time to assess the pros and cons of western conservation models and deeply interrogate what has worked, and what hasn’t. What can we learn All photos by Louise Johns.

from our glaring failures? What assumptions are blinding us to the way forward? What questions do we not yet know enough to ask? What if the hundreds of billions currently invested annually in western approaches to conservation were directed to Indigenous-led conservation models, approaches that are informed by western scientific models but are fundamentally guided by an entirely different paradigm: one informed by the language of restorative relationship, of love.

Mindset matters. Words also matter, and are often a reflection of our worldview, our values, and identity. The perspectives or worldviews we invite to the table shape the conversation. And how we shape the conversation sets destiny in motion; it defines the possible and informs the outcome. The modern language of conservation tends to the linear, the reductionist, the mechanistic. Input equals output. Success is measured in acres, miles, designations.

The values embedded, consciously or unconsciously, reflect a language of ownership, control, or dominion over—a language of separation.

There is a much older language we can hear if we slow and listen. A language spoken in whispers, in murmurs.

A language heard on a gust of wind, a bird wing ripping open sky, hooves cleaving earth, the slap of a tail on still water. This language speaks humility and honor, respect and reciprocity, kinship and kindness. This is the language of love that calls on all of us to remember that we’ve been wild for 99 percent of human history. Humans and the natural world have been inextricably intertwined in the most intimate and inescapable of embraces since the beginning of time.

In late June 2023, the Blackfeet Nation actioned love and made history when it returned 49 buffalo to their homelands in Blackfoot Territory, ensuring they were free to roam a landscape that colonizing forces had removed them from over a century ago. Forty-nine mighty wooly beasts ran out of stock trailers to freedom in the blink of an eye. A tourist who had stumbled onto the scene of the “traffic jam” asked me, “Does this happen every day?” Of course, it took millions of thrilling and agonizing moments to get to that day and over a decade of vigilant dedication to living the values of the Buffalo Way and weaving our way back to relationship with our relatives. But I didn’t say any of this. Instead, I mumbled through my tears, “We have been working with the Blackfeet Nation’s Buffalo Program for years to get to this moment, to return all that was taken from us by calculated campaigns of genocide.” “Best traffic jam ever,” she shouted in response over the community’s whoops and whistles celebrating buffalo freedom. The moment was tempered only by the thunder of hooves, the electricity of horns tossing sky as Buffalo reclaimed her rightful place in our hearts and in the order of things.

The story of Blackfeet buffalos’ return is a story within a story within a story. But ultimately, it is nothing more than a love story—an ode to relationship and the power it holds to

teach us the way out of the planetary crisis we are living through. The unexpected, runaway success of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, “Braiding Sweetgrass,” is a profound testament to the hope and potential of restorative reciprocity, of relationship, and at the same time indicative of the depth of disconnection and grief that defines our times; the hunger for relationship.

The language of relationship shimmers off Kimmerer’s pages, her voice a haunting reminder of the paradise lost in breaking the sacred covenant with the wild, breaking out of her intimate embrace like a petulant child. What Kimmerer’s work and success speaks to is the moment we are living through and the fact that this moment is calling on us all to remember, to wake up and remember the memories seeded in our blood. But she doesn’t tell us how. Her beautiful work doesn’t provide the road map so many need and are looking for. So how do we get there from here?

I live, and have lived, between worlds for my entire life.

While I have much to figure out, I do understand the catalytic power of betweenness, of belonging everywhere and nowhere at once, of speaking many languages, none of them fluently; of the need to stay grounded in the present, one eye looking back, one forward. Buffalo fur is my tether.

Whether worrying a piece of fur in my pocket like a rosary or weaving my fingers into a buffalo robe and holding on for dear life, touching Buffalo reminds me how to speak Buffalo and hear my ancestors singing me home while wielding science and strategy to find my way to the future.

Like our relative Buffalo, we need to turn into the tempest, and with our prayerful past as our guide, respectfully place one hoof in front of the other and walk toward the reconciled and rematriated future we all know in our hearts.

We need to Indigenize global conservation and bring into reality a new paradigm for the 21st century. One that sets the right tables and asks the right questions. One that is Indigenous-led, that embodies relationship and gives expression to the language of love.

Blackfeet Tribal member Wyett Wippert takes a photo of his daughter in front of the buffalo in their soft release pen at Chief Mountain.

Cristina Mormorunni (Métis & Sardo), or Issistsáakiiksi (Wolverine Woman), is the Co-founder and Director of INDIGENOUS LED. www.indigenousled.org Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 13

LIVING IN SACRED RELATIONSHIP WITH OUR ANCESTRAL TERRITORY in the Sierra Nevada

Seyaru’kwingumu in the mountains surrounding his community of Seykún, Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia.

Photo by Joshua Dautoff.

Inset: Forest cover on Arhuaco ancestral land expanded 63 percent in 12 years.

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eyaru’kwingumu is Co-director and Co-founder of Ofrenda A’bunna. He is helping to lead his Arhuaco community, Seykún, toward their goal to be a model of Indigenous-led conservation that can be replicated in other places.

Seykún is located in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta of northeast Colombia, a small, isolated mountain range on the northern tip of South America. Because of its location and extreme variation in elevation, it contains almost every ecosystem found in tropical America. The journal Science calls this area “the most irreplaceable site in the world for threatened species.” This is also Arhuaco ancestral territory. Seyaru’kwingumu has observed that recuperating and regenerating this land protects animal populations, which have declined a striking 70 percent globally since 1970. It has also been shown that forests can provide 30 percent of the solution to keeping global warming below 2°C. Ofrenda A’bunna is an Indigenous-led nonprofit founded in 2016 to recuperate and regenerate ancestral land in Seykún. The community has already protected 8,000 acres, and their goal is to purchase and protect an additional 5,000 acres of Arhuaco ancestral territory in the next five years. Joshua Dautoff co-created Ofrenda A’bunna with the Arhuaco community members of Seykún to support their multi-generational struggle to recuperate and regenerate ancestral territory. As Co-director and a trained journalist, he plays a bridge-building role to share Seykún’s story with a larger audience. Miriam Anne Frank is an applied anthropologist and independent consultant supporting Indigenous Peoples for over three decades. Dautoff and Frank recently spoke with Seyaru’kwingumu.

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Satellite Evidence Shows Arhuaco Regenerating Forests

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2022 ■ Forest ■ Agriculture

How is Ofrenda A’bunna implementing an Indigenousled model of conservation?

Seyaru’kwingumu: Ofrenda A’bunna means “offering to creation.” We are recuperating Arhuaco ancestral territory in Colombia’s Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. We work in the community of Seykún, where we are purchasing land to rewild over 70 percent of it and use the remainder to organically grow food for our community. All of the purchased land is collectively owned and protected by the 450 members of our community.

Most conservation models are born out of a desire to protect nature from humans. We believe that in order to protect our planet, we must protect the cultures that have developed respectful relationships with Mother Earth.

Our approach to conservation does not isolate nature from humans. We see ourselves as one more member of the community of life that calls our ancestral territory home. We do not believe in a hierarchy where humans have a superior role. On the contrary, humans depend on our Mother, the water, the stones and the trees; they do not depend on us. Because of this, we have a conservation model in which we live on the land that we are protecting.

We do not pay park rangers or build fences. Instead, we make offerings and live in respectful relationships with our

ancestral territory. We do this because we know that our own health depends on hers.

Ofrenda A’bunna is organized in a similar way as the rest of the Arhuaco culture. Our spiritual leaders are always consulted and guide our work. Decision-making is then done through community consensus. We have also created a all-indigenous board of directors along with other mechanisms that the government requires and that help us interface with the non-Indigenous world. But the spirit of our work is organized in line with Arhuaco culture.

What is the role of Traditional Knowledge and your relationship with your ecosystem?

Seyaru’kwingumu: In Arhuaco culture, the land is measured in more than acres or hectares. We see our territory more like a bible or a constitution, where the wisdom of how to organize our lives is written. Each parcel of ancestral territory that we purchase and protect is equivalent to recuperating a page of this sacred text. The mamos, our spiritual leaders, are trained to interpret the information codified in the stones, clouds, trees, and bird songs and communicate this information to the rest of the community. We then grow our crops, educate our children, and live in relationship with one another based on these teachings.

The women in our community have the power to create life. This, of course, is expressed in pregnancy and the birth of our children, but it is also fundamental in the continuity of our culture through their wisdom teachings offered to the younger generation. We talk about recuperation and regeneration of the land. For us, the land is female. The land that we purchase often has a history of abuse by its previous owners. But when the land is respected and given time, it will grow new plants. The animals and water will return. This is the female energy of birth and regeneration.

For us this is not a metaphor. The women bring this power forth through the clarity in their thoughts. They weave traditional bags throughout the day to maintain harmony and balance in their thinking. The men use the poporo (ceremonial gourd) for the same reason. These practices help create the serenity needed to heal our territory and live in peace.

Why did you choose to buy your land back rather than try to reclaim your ancestral territories through the legal system?

Seyaru’kwingumu: We are a people who want to respect all of nature, including human beings. Even though we consider Colombia’s Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta to be our ancestral territory, we also recognize that there are campesinos here that have legal rights to the land. If we believe we should respect the stones and water, then we also must respect our campesino neighbors. This means we will not push them off the land by force or through the legal system.

Our spiritual leaders have taught us that the campesinos will exchange their land for money. This is why Ofrenda A’bunna is trying to raise money. It is not for us. These funds go to campesinos so they will peacefully go to another place and allow us to protect our ancestral territory.

What successes have you had?

Seyaru’kwingumu: In our Arhuaco community of Seykún, we have already recuperated over 8,000 acres. A geologist from Colombia’s National University studied the impact of our work. Using satellite images, he compared 2,500 acres of land we purchased in 2010 to images of the same land in 2022. He determined that there has been a 63 percent increase in forest cover during this period. As the land regenerates, the water returns, the animals return, our atmosphere heals, and our culture strengthens.

What do you still need to achieve your goals?

Seyaru’kwingumu: Our goal is to purchase and protect 5,000 more acres in the next 5 years. We want to be a model of Indigenous-led conservation that can be replicated in other communities. Many people talk about the many difficulties happening in our world. But we want to communicate that there are positive things to do, and invite those who feel called to support our work to join us and help heal our Mother Earth.

To learn more about Ofrenda A’bunna, visit: www.ofrendaabunna.org.

Seykún community members.

Photo by Joshua Dautoff.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 15

THE RADICAL OPTIMISM OF YOUTH Working Towards Protecting Herring—and Renewal

Native Environmental Ambassadors in New York City.

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Hartman Deetz (MASHPEE WAMPANOAG) or Wampanoag, like many other New England, or Dawnland, Natives, herring are sacred. They bring with their springtime migration the return of life to the land after a long winter, paving the way for planting. They fill the stream with multitudes that in times gone by would be described as turning the rivers black.

Early colonists wrote that “you could walk across the river on the backs of the fish.” The fish would reach the freshwater ponds at the tops of the river and spawn the next generation, which would swim out to the open Atlantic to one day return and continue the cycle of life, death, and renewal.

What will it look like, the world we leave to our children?

Will we have drinkable water? An ocean with fish? Will “fire season” replace autumn? The youth will bear the burden of the procrastination, the apathy, the lies, and the greed that have fueled our society for far too long. For the youth, there is no other choice than renewal.

For many Tribes, youth are encouraged to speak up and are regarded as important future leaders to listen to.

They are often optimistic and uncorrupted. Teenagers tend to be idealistic and lean into the quest for solutions, the hope, the idea we should at least try. When adults maintain these qualities, it is called “radical optimism.”

In Mashpee, Native Environmental Ambassadors (NEA) are leading the way for the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe in advocating for solutions. Described as “a group of Native youth who protect Native homelands from the effects of colonization,” or, alternatively, “a bunch of Mashpee Wamp kids protecting our homeland with Rights of Nature,” the group has so far been able to pass two Tribal resolutions in the Tribal Council. The first was a resolution declaring a

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state of emergency for the herring, whose populations have been in serious decline. In this resolution, the Tribe will act as the advocate for the herring and their rights.

The second is a resolution to support enacting the Rights of Nature into the Tribal bylaws.

NEA member Amayah Balbuena, 15, is learning how to navigate policy and procedure. When I asked her how she got started with Rights of Nature work, she said, “We went to Washington, D.C. for a Tribal sovereignty summit, and one of the activities was to make posters about what our Tribe struggles with. And we saw that so many of us had the same struggles with our waters and polluters.” Fellow NEA member Isaiah Peters, 16, remembers learning from the Tlingit people in a cultural exchange in Alaska. “It was a real opportunity to learn what other people are doing with their herring runs and was inspiring to us for how we could rebuild ours,” he said.

Since the passing of the Tribal resolutions, NEA became the first youth-led organization doing Rights of Nature work on Turtle Island, according to Shannon Biggs of Movement Rights and the Global Alliance for Rights of Nature. Many environmental conferences and programs have invited them to speak locally in the New England area as well as at powwows and cultural events like the Namasket Herring Festival, InterTribal Paddle on the Charles, and the Indigenous Peoples Day celebration in Newton.

In September, the youth of NEA were asked to sit on a panel at the annual Bioneers conference, hosted by the Agua Caliente Tribe in California. With over 80 Tribes represented in the audience, this was the biggest spotlight they had seen so far. After the event, Balbuena said, “So many people came up to us saying what a good job that we are doing and how they are proud of us, and the support just felt absolutely amazing.” Peters commented, Photos courtesy of Hartman Deetz.

“We got to meet a lot of cool Native people and the work they are doing, and to see how much support there is for these kinds of ideas really boosted our morale.”

The youth of NEA are making many of us in the older generation of Mashpee proud, making our voices heard and our presence seen. They have met a who’s who of the Native environmentalism world, such as Pennie Opal from Plant of Movement Rights and Tom Goldtooth (Diné/Dakota Bdewakantonwan Hunka) of the Indigenous Environmental Network, each of whom has dedicated their lives to working for Indigenous Peoples and the environment. Balbuena recalls meeting Goldtooth and “learning how they worked to change things for the next generation like us.” They also met Casey Camp-Horeneck (Ponca), whom they excitedly recognized as “The Grandma from Rez Dogs!”

NEA has also done work with their peers from Houma, Louisiana, the Alaskan Yukon, and Hawai’i. Together they have learned about Tribal law and the resolution process, and also each other’s cultures. Peters recalls how much he liked the “Bird Songs,” a distinct style of singing, from southern California Tribes. For Balbuena, the most memorable exchange was learning lei-making from the Hawaiians.

The youth of NEA are also learning about their culture and our traditional stewardship of the environment through programming with the Mashpee Tribes Education Department. The property of Maushop Farm abuts the Santuit River, and NEA youth have worked to clean up this stretch of the river while learning to identify plants on the property that have cultural uses, as well as the wildlife and its habitats. In cultivating cattail reeds, for example, they learn about how these plants help to clean the water, and can also be used as a source of food as well as a material for weaving waterproof mats for roofing of our traditional houses. On the farmland, they have worked with Tribal member Danielle Hill to grow and cultivate our ancestral corn variety, King Philip’s Corn, a seven-row, red flint corn varietal, which is uniquely suited to the environment after generations of adaptation. They also have started to practice traditional methods of encouraging wild growth through selective clearing.

The other project happening on the property is the construction of a traditional contact period homesite, led

by Tribal member Darius Coombs. The small home and accompanying shade arbor are being built with local materials harvested from Tribal lands. When I asked Peters how this activity was connected to environmental work, he talked about harvesting and processing materials for a home.

“We get to be there hands-on with the resources and see where it comes from, and what we have to protect; it gives us more connection to it,” he explained. Balbuena echoed the sentiment, saying, “It gives us the background understanding to know why what we are doing is important.”

As herring move up river they eventually reach Mashpee Pond, the body of water that defines our community as

Mashpee People. For the past four years, the pond has closed earlier and earlier due to the buildup of cyanobacteria. Recently, NEA helped work to pass a proposal in the Mashpee town government to permit a full cultural homesite museum on the property, referred to as 12 Acres, which sits on Mashpee Pond. The town approval for this Land Back action will fulfill the promise of the 12 Acres property, which was the designated site of a museum as far back as the 1970s. Having a cultural museum on the shores of Mashpee Pond will create a powerful space to discuss the impacts of our lives on the herring and our overall ecosystem.

When I asked Peters about the future, he said that he sees “more hard work, a lot to learn, and a lot of info to spread.” But, he added optimistically, “We have time.

We’re young.” Balbeuna articulated a more specific set of goals: “We need to get the state to rebuild the herring runs, we need to stop building so close to the water, we need to stop allowing boats to come and rinse the salt water from the ocean. I don’t think people understand the harm that they are doing.”

These youth are taking concrete actions. We should let them lead with their radical optimism. It is, after all, their future. We should follow our youth, and the herring, to renewal.

Hartman Deetz (Mashpee Wampanoag) has been active in environmental and cultural stewardship for over 20 years.

He is currently a 2023–2024 Cultural Survival Writer in Residence.

Learning traditional skills by building a wetu.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 17

PROMOTING COEXISTENCE THROUGH INDIGENOUS KNOWLEDGE IN MAASAI MARA

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elson Ole Reiyia (Maasai) is Co-founder of the Nashulai Maasai Conservancy (NMC) based in the Maasai Mara in Southwestern Kenya.

Nashulai is one of the first Indigenousowned and run conservancies in East Africa. It challenges western colonial frameworks of land and resource management and conservation in the wake of threats of biodiversity loss, cultural disruption, poverty, and climate change.

Miriam Anne Frank, a consultant supporting Indigenous Peoples, stayed at one of Nashulai’s conservancy camps and recently spoke with Nelson about his work.

Top: Open wildlife corridor.

Below: Nelson Ole Reiyia (Maasai).

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Miriam Anne Frank: How is Nashulai Maasai Conservancy implementing an Indigenous-led model of conservation?

Nelson Ole Reiyia: NMC was established in 2016 by the members of the community, who are also the land owning families in that area. Before that was established, there were fences erected all over the place and there was land commodification, fragmentation, and laws disrupting the cultural cycles and social cohesion of the community.

The community decided to act to create a unique model of conservation inspired by Indigenous Traditional Knowledge. It’s a conservancy whose main ethos is coexistence. This means that people, wildlife, and livestock continue to share the land so the community did not have to lose their land for the sake of creating a national park.

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The size at the beginning was around 5,000–6,000 acres of a critical triangle which borders the Maasai Mara National Reserve, an ancient wildlife corridor. Over time, Nashulai has expanded by adding another 10,000 acres in an area called Nashulai East. Currently, Nashulai is comprised of two conservancies, which are jointly run. The main Nashulai which borders the Mara has 124 land owning families, and Nashulai East has 75 land owning families.

Nashulai is community-led, so people remain on the land to sustain their livelihoods and their culture. It’s a model that espouses balance, harmony, and coexistence.

It is not run by the government or by outside tourism; it is run by the local people. We have a distinguished team of Elders who are leading rotational grazing within the conservancy using the old ways of the Maasai. The main difference between Nashulai and other protected areas is the fact that the people remain on their land. They continue to relate to the land, they continue to enjoy the memory of their land, they continue to access it for cultural and ceremonial reasons, for medicinal uses, for grazing, while at the same time protecting wildlife. The typical protected area would remove the people and lease the land for tourism purposes.

MAF: How is Nashulai Maasai Conservancy organized?

NOR: Nashulai Maasai Conservancy has a management company that has a board of directors. Then we have a Council of Elders who are the leaders on the ground.

Women and youth are fully involved. We have women leaders in the Council of Elders because we value gender equity. We also have women rangers who are part of the team and several women that are in jobs that are offered through the conservancy. The youth are also involved, working as game rangers.

All photos courtesy of Nashulai Maasai Conservancy.

MAF: What is the role of Traditional Knowledge and your relationship with your ecosystem?

NOR: We have an age-old tradition of nomadic pastoralism. Our forefathers, even our own fathers and ourselves, used to move our livestock around to different areas to ensure balance and to conform with the weather patterns and water cycles to avoid overgrazing and to ensure that the management of the rangeland is taken care of. In Nashulai, we have basically returned to that old way of knowing. Our grazing committee, which is part of our Council of Elders, oversees that aspect. We also have our women engaged in water restoration because they are the primary water users. We continue to identify all the plants within the conservancy and we have a herbarium. We recognize the trees and plants and their importance in the ecosystem. Also, we monitor the weather patterns using our Traditional Knowledge. So, in as much as we use science, which we do, this goes hand in hand with our Traditional Knowledge systems.

moment that tourism and hotels come in, the model will change drastically. We have established an educational institute within the conservancy, the Nashulai Training Center, which has a vocational unit to train the youth from the community and build their capacity not only to find jobs in the multibillion dollar tourism industry in the Mara, but to become their own employers. We are also training other community leaders about Indigenous-led conservation, Indigenous land rights, and climate change adaptation and mitigation.

MAF: How is Nashulai working to reclaim your ancestral territory?

NOR: We are having a new concept to scale up the conservancy we are calling “conservation beyond the conservancies.” We are going beyond the territories of Nashulai to bring more and more areas under the Nashulai conservation model. To that effect, we have created Nashulai Conservation Association so that more communities who are outside the main protected areas and tourism-based conservancies can join the Nashulai model.

During the COVID-19 pandemic there was a crisis.

There was no food and people were starving. Nashulai organized a feeding program for 28,000 people weekly, so we gained a lot of social trust among the different communities. Now we are using that social capital to approach the other Tribes to join in Nashulai’s model. Recently, 200 leaders joined from different segments of the conservancy’s communities—spiritual leaders, political leaders, the youth— they all signed Nashulai’s 2023 Declaration, “The Maasai Response to the Climate Crisis.” And in that response they committed almost two million acres of their ancestral lands to the Nashulai Conservancy model.

MAF: What are you hoping to achieve next?

NOR: Our goal is sustainability. This is a dream and a vision whose time has come. It’s an inspiration to many other communities not only in Maasai land, but beyond.

This concept of Indigenous-led conservation is one we need to sustain financially. We also need to continue earning the trust of the communities, so financial sustainability is very important. But this has to be done carefully in a way that sustains the people and the community on the land.

The other goal is to develop our concept of a Stories Cafe. We have always had this idea to create a Traditional Knowledge center where the Elders will transfer their ancestral knowledge to the younger generation. The knowledge of their culture, cosmology, and ethnobotany of the environment can be used by the younger generation. We started building Netii Apa (once long, long ago), and also Netii Taata, which means, “it used to be there and now it is still there.”

Another goal is sustainable tourism, as that will enable the community living around the conservancy to benefit from it. We have a goal to expand the capacity of our college and we are collaborating with international universities.

It is our vision that the conservancy will become not just a place for tourism, but also an educational institute where university students come for research and anthropologists come to learn about the Maasai culture. And we want to expand our “conservation beyond conservancies” model through the Nashulai Association. We are talking to more and more communities to replicate this concept so that we can create impact at scale.

MAF: What are some of your other recent successes?

NOR: For one, we have doubled our conservancy in size, so now we have the main Nashulai and Nashulai East.

Secondly, we launched a feeding program to combat starvation during COVID; no one else did that. Thirdly, we have managed to run a concept of balance and harmony where people and wildlife live in perfect balance and harmony without conflict. No one else is doing that.

Our other success story is that without depending on tourism like all the other game parks, game reserves, and conservancies, we have been able to sustain the conservancy for eight years now. We believe that the

Maasai women lead a river restoration project.

To learn more about Nashulai Maasai Conservancy and to support their vision, visit: www.nashulai.com.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 19

CONSERVATION IS AT THE HEART OF TRADITIONAL KNOWLEDGE IN FIJI

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Ratu Emori Ganilau, Isikeli Kainaigani, Aliti Verevou

Bu Bau (left) imparts knowledge to younger women.

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t’s 6:30 in the morning and dawn is just breaking. As the sun rises steadily over the horizon, I can hear the dragging of leaves on the sand, slow and consistent.

I look at our hosts and they whisper, “It’s Bu Bau, she is back from the caves.” I run out to see Bu Bau, a 68-year-old woman cutting a lonely figure on the deserted beach, bent over from the weight of the pandanus leaves that she carries. Her barefoot strides are short, slow but steady, with a walking stick to aid her. Bu Bau, as she is fondly known, is one of the thousands of women from Fiji who still relies on and carries forward Traditional Knowledge and conservation methods.

Fiji is located in the South Pacific, and on one of the coasts of Fiji’s largest island is Nasau. Nasau is one of only three of the 91 villages in the province of Ra that can only be accessed by boat. Nasau is tucked away in the foothills of the Leuleu mountain range, which, loosely translated, means The Horns. To cut a road to Nasau would mean cutting through the mountain and subsequently destroying the forest and its vibrant ecosystem that the villagers depend on. The villagers have chosen to keep this region intact for as long as they possibly can, so as not to destroy the vegetation and their livelihood. Nasau is a name that means mana (work, succeed, make effective), and this is a village that is still rich in tradition and culture, strengthening and protecting our Traditional Knowledge.

The cave that Bu Bau just returned from is one that has

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been used not only by the people of Nasau, but also the villagers from the neighboring communities for the sunning of pandanus leaves, which are woven for mats and other handicrafts. Called the Qara ni Sigani Voivoi, or Cave for Sunning Pandanus Leaves, the cave is about 30–40 meters long and 10 meters high. The Qara ni Sigani Voivoi is used during a specific time of year, from June to September.

This is when the sun has the most effect on the surface of the caves.

At other times of year, the women have to boil the pandanus leaves for at least half a day and dry them out in the sun on a daily basis, taking the time to turn the leaves at regular intervals. It is a tedious task that must be done well and consistently for weeks on end to ensure that the pandanus leaves are evenly sunned so they become the desired color. With the use of the cave, the women do not have to do these tedious tasks; they simply take their leaves and put them in the sun, using a stone to weigh them down. There is no boiling, constant turning, or worry that the leaves might get wet. The sunning of the leaves takes between two to three weeks.

Neighboring villages travel by horseback during low tide, walk along the shoreline, or hire boats to request permission to utilize these caves for pandanus leaf sunning.

This is an age-old tradition that has stood the test of time, passed down from mother to child, woman to woman.

When we asked Bu Bau whether she would prefer a dryer to be built in the village, as it would be convenient, she responded with a resounding ‘No.’ “No. I don’t think it would be good for me or the village,” she said. “True, it

will be easier, but it will cause chaos and too much rubbish. Also, if it goes bad, we return to the caves, so better off without it. This is free, no trouble,” she explained.

While she might not realize it, Bu Bau has just described the cave as a method of conservation by way of keeping the environment safe. In her explanation and stand to not encourage installation of a dryer, Bu Bau protects and conserves the environment. The protection of Traditional Knowledge and stewardship of the environment is evident and strong in this village. For example, the villagers still use a waterfall as a form of natural massage. It is said that when the villagers are tired from planting and need a massage, they go to the falls. At the point where the water falls, there is a stone, worn through time, that one lies on and the water massages your back. It is protection of Traditional Knowledge like this that has made it possible for the villagers to approve more conservation projects on their custodian land, and to appreciate the necessity of preserving the land left to them by their ancestors in order for it to be used responsibly.

Since 2007, the villagers have dedicated one of their islands, Vatu I Ra, to become a bird sanctuary; the island is now known as the Vatu I Ra Park. This conservation effort was implemented collectively by Wildlife Conservation Society, Ra Provincial Council, Traditional leaders in Ra, Ra provincial government officers, and other civil society partners. The park is managed by the villagers in partnership with Birdlife International, and local residents have access to the resources on the island. The island is home to numerous breeding seabirds, earning its nickname “Bird Island.” It is the permanent home of nine species of seabirds, including red-footed and brown boobies, black noddies, lesser frigatebirds, and several species of tern.

The surrounding sea is a diverse ecosystem that is home to turtles, whales, dolphins, and over a hundred species of fish. Fishing is not permitted in the waters surrounding the Vatu I Ra Conservation Park and the villagers have a boat specifically to patrol against illegal fishing, but even still it remains a huge problem. Trespassing is another major problem in the management of the protected areas. Since the island is a sanctuary for birds, permission is needed from the land owners before anyone can set foot on the island. Farmers, who are not land owners, frequently trespass on the island and harvest the birds’ excrement without permission, using it for fertilizer and selling the fertilizer without paying a commission to the land owners. The land owners continue to patrol their waters and continue to hold thieves and poachers accountable, however small the theft may be.

When a Fijian introduces themself, they can choose to tell you of their totem, which consists of the animal, the fruit, the plant, and the trees that they are identified within their province. This is why the Indigenous Fijian will always be connected to the land. In Fiji, we are often told that when we are born, we are born to a mataqali, or clan. The clan is given a kanakanaka (feeding ground) where we can plant and hunt. We are also given a qoliqoli, or fishing ground.

It is for this reason that Fijians are also reminded that we are just the custodians of the land. Fijians are taught from a young age that the land is communal and is shared not just by the present inhabitants, but is to be protected for the future generations that are yet to enjoy the gifts of their forebearers.

Ratu Emori Ganilau is Senior Community Engagement Officer at the Locally Managed Marine Areas Network. Isikeli Kainaigani is a marine biologist and holds the traditional position of Gone Dau, or official fisherman of the chief. Aliti Verevou Najoritani is a writer with roots in mainstream media and a passionate conservationist. The Locally Managed Marine Areas Network is a grassroots network dedicated to advancing locally-led natural resource management. It equips the resource owner with the knowledge to make sustainable decisions regarding their resources.

Bu Bau carries her pandanus leaves over water.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 21

SAVING OUR GREAT WILD TRANSBOUNDARY RIVERS IN ALASKA

Petroglyph at the mouth of the Unuk River. Unuk River's Tlingit name, Jòonax_ , translates as “revealed through a dream,“ referencing an ancient time before the Great Flood and the dreams of a Nèix_ .adi man who had visions of the river and urged his clan to seek it out.

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Lee Wagner (TSIMSHIAN, HAIDA, AND ŁINGÍT) s the ooligan came in, their fluid, silvery forms filled the glacier-blue river. I had never seen anything like it—it looked as though you could have walked up and across the water on their backs. The absolute beauty of the Unuk River is breathtaking. It’s wild and unruly, and I was in love. After we had caught what we needed and started heading for Ketchikan, we left a living river in our wake. My family has been the river’s customary caretakers for over 10,000 years. Our crests of the rising sun are seen throughout the river. These pictographs declare we were there then, we are here now, and we will be there as long as this river flows.

During the end of the last ice age, the Unuk was a refuge and a corridor between the coast and the interior of British Columbia for the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian Peoples, a lifeway leading them back home again. The river feeds the temperate rainforest of the Tongass and sustains a tremendous variety of wildlife, including migratory birds and four species of salmon. It is known for its rich run of ooligan, the slender, oily fish that we have relied on since time immemorial. My mother and father, Cindy Wagner and Louie Wagner Jr., have fished ooligan on the Unuk for over six decades. My father is the “ooligan man” who provided the fish for Metlakatla, Prince of Wales Island, and Ketchikan each spring. My mother is known as the “grease lady” for having mastered the art of making highly sought-after ooligan grease.

It was a crisp spring evening when we reached the Ryus Float in Ketchikan. As our boat approached, lines of people were waiting for their share of the savior fish, singing and cheering for us as we docked. I vividly remember the excitement, joy, and their bright smiles. Ooligan

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brought everyone together and marked the arrival of spring. Everyone was happy. That was 21 years ago and the last time we fished on the Unuk. I was granted a small window into our traditional way of life. We lived with and cared for the land and water. We respected and cherished the countless forms of life that it sustains.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, we started noticing changes around the river. My mother found 50-gallon drums and debris washing up on the riverbanks. There was more silt in the water, and its hue was no longer glacier blue. As time went on, fewer and fewer ooligan came in.

Eventually, they were nearly gone from the Unuk. Salmon, too, began disappearing at an alarming rate, along with other wildlife. The law officials told my family that we were no longer allowed to fish. It was a devastating blow to my family and the entire community.

Back then, we didn’t know that there were mines operating above the Unuk and that ooligan had left the river in search of cleaner water. Unlike salmon, ooligan are not tied to their rivers of birth. Despite our deep ties with the Unuk

Unuk River in the early 1990s.

Photo by Louie Wagner Jr.

River and our traditional lands straddling the U.S.-Canada border, we’ve been left out of decision-making processes.

Mining development in the headwaters of our culturally significant Unuk, Taku, and Stikine Rivers is expanding at an alarming rate. At present, two hard-rock mining projects are operating with three others fully permitted, two in the process of permitting, and a growing number in the advanced exploration stage. The mining operations are already generating massive amounts of toxic waste, which poses a significant threat of polluting downstream waters with heavy metals.

For us, the people of the Unuk River, the situation is further compounded by the fact that Eskay Creek, one of the mines that operated in the 1990s, is being permitted to re-open on a much larger scale. The plan includes two open pits and toxic mining waste dumped into what were natural lakes swelling behind tailings dams. The design of these structures calls for maintenance into perpetuity; in other words, forever. This is starkly against our values of leaving these lands and waters pristine for our children’s children.

The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, endorsed by Canada in 2010, requires Canada to recognize our rights and interests in territories that predate the U.S.-Canadian border. Our Tribal and First Nations communities in both Alaska and Canada have the right to say what will happen on our lands. In 2014, 15 Tribal Nations in southeast Alaska formed a commission set to protect our Tribal lands, waters, and ways of life from mining impacts. The Southeast Alaska Indigenous Transboundary Commission (SEITC) is in direct engagement with British Columbia over the mining processes and is building a case for Participating Indigenous Nation status for our member Tribes. We are the first U.S. Tribes to ever seek this recognition in Canada.

Alaska state legislators have urged British Columbia to consult with us during the processes to permit new mines, writing, “The U.S. and Canadian governments and the Indigenous Peoples on both sides of the border have a responsibility and opportunity to better manage these shared watersheds in a constructive and cooperative manner. We hope the B.C. government shares our conviction that this can only be accomplished with the Alaska Tribes of the SEITC as meaningful participants.” SEITC has challenged Canada’s actions before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), alleging that Canada’s failure to regulate and prevent threats from large-scale mining operations in British Columbia constitutes a violation of SEITC member Tribes’ internationally recognized human rights. The IACHR admitted the petition in October.

Before these devastating mines upstream from us begin their operations, my mother wants to fish the Unuk River with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren this spring, as we used to, fulfilling our inherent rights given by grandmothers from generations and generations

ago. “Maybe have it documented as a lost way of life,” she says. The mining industry has infiltrated the headwaters of our sacred waterways. If we allow this to continue, the devastating true cost to Indigenous Peoples will become evident once the land has been exploited and the boom inadvertently busts. As a mother, this is not a legacy I wish to leave for my children.

Canada must fulfill its obligations to international human rights and adhere to the principles outlined in the Declaration. Collaborating with Indigenous communities, who have been safeguarding these rivers for countless generations, and valuing their ancestral wisdom, is true progress. By honoring the lessons passed down by our foremothers and drawing strength from our ancestors, we can stand up against the destructive forces that have taken so much from us. As our commission challenges one of the most powerful industries in the world, in my heart, I see our river once again running clear and glacier blue, our savior fish saturating its currents, and my family fishing on the Unuk again.

Top: Lee Wagner by her family crest on the Unuk River.

Photo courtesy of Lee Wagner.

Bottom: Ooligan (Thaleichthys pacificus) is also known as eulachon and candlefish.

Photo source: Wikipedia.

Lee Wagner (Tsimshian, Haida, and Łingít of the Niisk’iyaa Laxgibuu/wolf clan) is Assistant Executive Director of the Southeast Alaska Indigenous Transboundary Commission.

She grew up fishing with her family throughout southeast Alaska and spent much of her time learning her way of life from her parents and Elders. She has harvested from, and helped take care of, the Unuk River alongside her family, who have done so since time immemorial.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023 | 23

A CALL TO CHAMPION SUSTAINABLE USE OF WILDLIFE as an Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Issue

Khwe (San) community members build with traditional materials and pass on Indigenous knowledge to the next generation.

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Lesle Jansen (KHOIKHOI) and Joe Goergen he San and Khoikhoi Peoples in Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa have a legacy of living in close harmony with nature. Despite a history of discriminatory environmental control and exclusion from their land, Indigenous communities across southern Africa are champions of wildlife. In southern Africa, where marginalized and impoverished communities coexist with some of the world’s most iconic and dangerous species, Indigenousled governance offers a new path for conservation.

The philosophy of Community-Based Natural Resource Management (CBNRM) was pioneered in post-colonial southern Africa during the 1980s–90s. This rights-based reform aimed to decentralize authority and foster shared decision-making processes. While CBNRM is not a perfect system, it is an attempt to support Indigenous Peoples with potential decolonizing effects for land stewardship on communal land. As protected areas often fail to support biodiversity and perpetuate exclusion of Indigenous people, governance of customary land is critical for effective and socially just conservation models.

Post-apartheid Namibia offers one such example, having developed a successful CBNRM system with 86 registered communal conservancies covering about 20 percent of the country’s land area and supporting more than 230,000 rural people. Today, Namibia’s conservancy program is recognized as a leading global model for recovering wildlife populations, improving livelihoods, and building powerful democratic institutions by granting land and wildlife use rights directly to communities through national legislation.

Initiatives such as local hunting quotas allow access to wildlife resources, while community game guard programs support stewardship leadership and a culture of wildlife protection as well as providing an important source of employment.

Promoting gender equality is also a governance priority.

The sustainable use of wildlife has been a catalyst for the development of Namibia’s conservancies over the last three decades, as have similar programs in Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Progress has been achieved by

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securing Indigenous Peoples’ rights, supporting traditional hunting values, and ensuring access to game meat. In addition, application of hunting tourism delivers revenue that facilitates new financial management systems and increased accountability of new communal institutions.

UN Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous Peoples, José Francisco Calí Tzay (Kaqchikel Maya), explained the concept and benefits of community-based natural resource management in detail in his Tourism and the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Report: “In Southern Africa, Indigenous Peoples have formed community-based organizations to engage in community-based natural resource management of wildlife and other resources on their communal lands to generate income from tourism. Revenues from hunting expeditions are distributed to the broader community and, in some countries, shared with government. Economic benefits take the form of cash distributed to households or investments in larger community projects (for example, schools, medical clinics, electricity, water).

Community-based organizations offer employment opportunities, hiring administrative staff and community guards, scouts, and rangers to conduct anti-poaching patrols, to assist in reducing human-wildlife conflict, and to educate members of the community on the importance of conservation. Agreements entered into with the private sector often include clauses for local employment and training.“ The Kyaramacan Association within Namibia’s Bwabwata National Park, made up of about 6,000 Indigenous Khwe people and other park residents, is an example of the economic development generated from sustainable hunting tourism. These benefits were recognized in a 2013 report by then-UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, James Anaya (Apache and Purépecha), to the UN Human Rights Council. The Kyaramacan Association has since built a Traditional Knowledge center to educate visitors and strengthen San culture. None of this support would be possible without the economic benefits from hunting tourism that are now under serious threat.

The international hunting industry is not without its own colonial legacies, like many photo-tourism experiences and western conservation practices. The unfair eviction of Photos courtesy of Khwe Living Museum, Living Culture Foundation Namibia.

Maasai people from the Loliondo area of northern Tanzania for use by foreign royal elites, for example, must not be condoned. However, in many areas of southern Africa, hunting tourism is a sustainable business model done in joint partnership with communities. The proceeds contribute to building schools, clinics, bursaries, and water boreholes, among other infrastructure and social services, while also increasing household income. Action is also being taken to improve local participation in the industry, from quota setting and marketing to innovative shared business ownership models.

Indigenous Peoples, local communities, and the Community Leaders Network of southern Africa are calling for greater inclusion in wildlife policy making, transparent consultation by domestic and foreign governments, and legitimate engagement in conservation practice. This was a major topic of discussion at the recent Africa Protected Areas Congress held in Rwanda in 2022, which resulted in the Kigali Call to Action to “[support] the livelihoods of local communities through sustainable use and employment, especially through tourism.”

The role of Indigenous Peoples in land stewardship is recognized by multilateral environmental agreements such as the UN Convention on Biological Diversity, Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora, and the International Union for Conservation of Nature, among other influential bodies. Despite this growing global support and recognition for Indigenous Peoples, however, eco-colonialism remains active in many aspects of conservation, encouraged by a westernized wildlife ideology that dehumanizes Black Africans. Such unabashed ignorance is frequently on display in political debates and media narratives, particularly regarding wildlife trade policy.

Indigenous communities in Africa are concerned with the proliferation of import bans on legally harvested wildlife targeting iconic African species such as elephants and lions. These legislative proposals or administrative rules often use neo-colonial messaging, lack scientific credibility, disregard national sovereignty in wildlife management, and disenfranchise local people from the real benefits of hunting tourism. Wildlife trade restrictions driven by misinformed public opinion in the global north threaten the conservation successes of CBNRM programs in southern Africa.

The right to development and benefit from the sustain-

able use of wildlife is being championed by Indigenous Peoples as an Indigenous Peoples’ rights issue. A recent Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species working group meeting in Cusco, Peru highlighted the challenges of implementing meaningful engagement of Indigenous Peoples and local communities in international regulation. The Community Leaders Network of southern Africa actively participated in this arena, making connections with representatives of the Māori Peoples from New Zealand who are interested in trading ceremonial specimens of worked sperm whale bone. We need to establish more linkages with Indigenous Peoples from around the world to form a collective voice and leadership position elevated in international policy debates. Last year, a delegation from southern Africa attended the 23rd UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. This group will be present again in New York in 2024 to find solidarity with other Indigenous Peoples globally.

Much work remains to be done to create more robust and egalitarian wildlife economies, moving beyond meager benefit sharing schemes to transformative social and environmental justice change that better incorporates Indigenous Knowledge systems in land stewardship. We ask for mutual respect between divergent wildlife use values and call for support from the international community to defend the self-determination of Indigenous Peoples through community-based sustainable use of wildlife.

Community-based conservation must also evolve to include pursuit of more absolute land tenure and to realize additional sustainable development gains from tourism.

Hunting that supports community-based natural resource management programs continues to play a vital role in the movement to support Indigenous communities in managing their lands and resources and protecting biodiversity.

Lesle Jansen (Khoikhoi) is Head of Indigenous Peoples and local communities resource rights at Jamma International, a nonprofit organization that supports meaningful conservation work for the well being of the planet and its people with a focus on Indigenous Peoples’ rights to communitybased natural resource management in southern Africa.

Joe Goergen is an International Policy and Public Affairs Specialist at Jamma International.

Khwe (San) community members at the Khwe Living Museum in northern Namibia.

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KO E F GR AN T PART N ER S P OTL I GHT

IN DEFENSE OF OUR LAND AND SACRED RIVERS

The açai fruit is part of the biodiversity at risk due to extractivism.

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Joint Actions by Mura Peoples in Brazil

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Coletivo Mura de Porto Velho he relationship between the Brazilian State and Indigenous Peoples has been the subject of controversy and conflict throughout Brazil’s history. Although the current government has implemented policies and laws aimed at protecting the rights of Indigenous Peoples and their territories, it has also been the source of setbacks, confrontations, and disputes when natural resources are at stake. These contradictions against Indigenous Peoples are expressed in the Marco Temporal (temporal framework) law. The proposed Marco Temporal interpretation of the Constitution would have limited the rights of Indigenous Peoples to the lands they physically occupied on the date of the 1988 Federal Constitution, thus eliminating the history and reality of Indigenous peoples by setting an arbitrary deadline for the recognition of Indigenous lands.

Mura Peoples’ land in the Porto Velho region in the western part of Brazil is heavily and negatively affected by gold mining, highways, deforestation, hydroelectric plants, and illegal gravel extraction. Amidst ongoing demands for the government to recognize Indigenous land rights, Mura communities across Brazil are struggling to hold on to their resources and keep them out of the hands of mining and timber companies.

Mura Peoples live in territories in the states of Amazonas and Rondonia. Some Mura territories are demarcated, and others are in the process of demarcation. Although Mura Peoples are not recognized in Rondonia, through Coletivo Mura de Porto Velho, they work together with the Mura communities on the banks of the Madeira River to strengthen the defense of lakes, rivers, and the environment as a whole, revitalize Mura Traditional Knowledge, and protect relatives who are fighting extractive projects such as hydroelectric plants, soybean plantations, highways, and gold mining.

The Madeira River is Mura ancestral territory. Gold mining activities affect all of Mura land, as it attracts workers from outside of the community and contaminates the river waters and the fish entering the lake, where other Mura communities make their living. According to the chief of the Kapanã territory, drugs and human trafficking accompany the mining industry and are also major concerns for the communities.

All photos courtesy of Colectivo Mura de Porto Velho.

Each community has its own organizational processes.

However, during the pandemic, urban communities organized to support specific demands such as food and hygiene products. In 2022, with a grant from the Keepers of the Earth Fund, Coletivo Mura developed specific actions to support our collective plan towards achieving justice for our communities. The project was born with the aim of generating and exchanging knowledge and gaining political influence in the face of the aggressions we are suffering from outsiders.

As part of our efforts to mobilize communities to protect our natural resources and land, Coletivo Mura works with the community of Mura do Itaparanã on the banks of the Trans-Amazonian Highway. The Itaparanã community is heavily affected by deforestation, illegal gravel extraction and gold prospecting in forest areas.

In February 2021, Coletivo Mura made two visits to the Itaparanã territory, which has been waiting for full demarcation for more than 20 years, to learn about the ongoing invasions of the territory. In the past four years, deforestation, burning, and invasion have accelerated. We recorded a video of two leaders discussing the situation there. During our visit, invaders posted signs prohibiting the community from entering their own chestnut groves where they have collected nuts for generations. In another part of the territory, armed men with radios monitored the area while extracting gravel and destroying the source of the stream, which is sacred to the community.

Around the same time, more than 20 men went to the headwaters of the Itaparanã River and started clearing the forest; we could hear the sounds of chainsaws from the village. Faced with the threat of total devastation and risk to life, we held a meeting to address the issue. We decided to go to Brasília to make a formal complaint and deliver a dossier with all of the documents pertaining to the pending demarcation request to the Brazilian government, together with the reports of the current invasions.

A document was drawn up and signed by the leaders to be taken to Brasília, where the leaders requested a hearing

with the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and demanded the suspension of the forestry concession in Balata Tufari, a region that falls within the Mura do Itaparanã territory and is close to the territory of the Juma Peoples.

From April 24-28, 2023, Colectivo Mura and the Mura of Itaparanã attended the Acampamento Terra Livre, the largest Indigenous assembly in Pindorama (known more commonly as Brazil) in Brasilia. This trip was critical, as it was the first time that Itaparanã relatives were going to the encampment. We carried a banner reading: “Demarcação Já do Território Mura do Itaparanã” (Demarcation of the Mura do Itaparanã Territory) and held conversation circles within the camp.

We met twice with the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and were also interviewed by the department responsible for territorial demarcation issues, where we delivered the documents and spoke about the situation of invasions and various rights violations suffered by the communities of Itaparanã. Based on these meetings and the delivery of documents, another meeting was scheduled, where our community’s experiences were reviewed in more detail.

We hope that the severity of our situation was understood by government officials. While we know that actions will not be taken overnight, we were happy to be heard after more than 20 years of fighting complaints and requesting support from the Brazilian government.

In 2022, Coletivo Mura De Porto Velho received a grant from the Keepers of the Earth Fund (KOEF) to support their organizing and advocacy work. KOEF is an Indigenous-led fund within Cultural Survival designed to support Indigenous Peoples’ community advocacy and development projects.

Since 2017, KOEF has funded 310 projects in 41 countries through small grants totaling $1,603,307, as well as technical assistance, which have benefited 328 Indigenous Peoples in total. In 2023, 72 Indigenous projects and collectives in 21 countries were financed for a total amount of $543,605.

The Mura community mobilizes in defense of their territory.

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STA F F S POT L I G H T

The Art of Love, Life, and Labor CANDYCE TESTA

Diana Pastor (MAYA KI’CHE’, CS STAFF)

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Candyce Testa’s beadwork and paintings.

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ultural Survival’s new Bazaar Events Manager, Candyce Testa (Pequot), has a passion for life, which she credits to her upbringing. “My parents were proud of their hardworking nature, often showing off their calloused hands. They purchased 40 acres of land with 4 other families in Deblois, Maine, population 68. This town had a fish hatchery, a peat factory, and a blueberry factory; everything else was forests and blueberry fields,” Testa says.

When Testa and her family first moved to “The Land,” as they affectionately refer to their home, they settled in a tent, bathed in local ponds, learned how to use chalk lines on wood, and hammered nails all summer. Together, little by little, they built their house. With gas lights, a wood stove, and a hand pump in the sink—and without running water or electricity—Testa had plenty of time to explore the woods and immerse herself in books.

As a child, Testa grew up with stories from her father about his Narragansett heritage, for example, being related to Tarzan Brown, a Narragansett man who ran the Boston Marathon barefoot and would conduct feats of strength. Only later did she and her family discover their Pequot ancestry. ”Being enrolled into the Pequot community was one of the best days of our lives,” Testa says.

Testa’s parents were creative and artistic, and she credits them for guiding her to a path in the arts. “My Pequot and Narragansett ancestors created beautifully ornate clothing and accessories. I draw upon this knowledge when creating with steel scissors, needles, glass beads, and fabricated sinew. My love of beading developed while working for the Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center (Kutaputush— Thank you, Toni Weeden) and was further developed at the Tomaquag Museum (Kutaputush, Lorén Spears),” she says.

Before starting as Cultural Survival Bazaar Events manager, Testa worked for the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Nation in a cultural capacity, first working with archaeologists in the field, and then as an educator for many years at the museum. Later, in “a dream come true,” she was transferred to her community’s Cultural Resources Department. “In this position I did a little bit of everything, teaching the Blanket Dance, sharing the Pequot language, telling Indigenous stories from the region, teaching

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Candyce Testa

workshops, and working as tabulator at powwows,” Testa says, adding, “The pandemic made me come to the realization that I was spread too thin and needed to focus my energy.” Guided by this thought and with the support of her community, she wrote and received two federal language grants: one for the hire of two new language instructors and one for the creation of new language materials.

On her decision to join Cultural Survival, Testa says, “I wanted to be a part of a team that is creating a world where the voices of Indigenous Peoples are heard and respected, a team that realizes that the people who are living the most intricately woven existence with the Earth are the same people who should be making decisions about it. A team that values the voices and contributions of Indigenous women.” She names many Indigenous women as sources of inspiration, like Crystal Whipple (Pequot), Loren Spears (Narragansett), Clarissa Sabattis (Maliseet), Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel (Mohegan), Julia Marden (Aquinnah Wampanoag), Kerri Helme (Mashpee Wampanoag), Deborah Moorehead (Seaconke Pokanoket Wampanoag), Darlene Kascak (Schaghticoke), Junise SmithBliss (Pequot), Brittney Wally (Nipmuck), and the spirit of the late Trudie Lamb Richmond (Schgaticoke). “These are the Indigenous Culture Keepers in our area dedicating themselves to ensuring that the history and culture of the Northeast Woodlands Peoples are alive and thriving for future generations,” she says.

Testa’s new dream is to organize a Bazaar that reflects the diverse Indigenous Peoples around the world and to create a space that provides Indigenous Peoples with a platform to sell their creations to an American market while showcasing the Cultural Survival’s work and the effect our programs have on Indigenous lives. “Cultural Survival is an organization of people from across the globe who not only dream of making the world a better place, they also put in the elbow grease towards making it a reality.”

B A Z A A R ART I ST S P OT L I G HT

THE SOLE FASHION OF

TIGRIS HANDMADE CS Staff

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elahattin Sep (Kurdish) comes from a long line of shoemakers in southeast Anatolia, Turkey. “In our culture, every child learns a craft. Some become blacksmiths, some become tailors, and some [become] cobblers. Craftsmanship holds a significant place in our cultural maintenance. The crafts of my family date back to vineyards and shoe production from producing the leather, curing the leather, and assembling the shoes.

When I came to the United States, I wanted to find a way to bring some of my culture here and I decided to bring these shoes that are a part of my family history with me,” Sep says.

Sep and his family design and create yemeni, a type of heel-less leather shoe made entirely by hand by his brand Tigris Handmade.

Yemeni is local to the southeastern Anatolia region. The shoe was traditionally worn by people from the region but is now produced by only a limited number of artists in Gaziantep and Kilis. Yemeni makers are called köşger, and the tradesmen who sell them are called kavaf.

Sep’s shoes are made without the use of any synthetic materials; the leather is ethically sourced and he says the shoe offers numerous health benefits. “They are a sustainable fashion product, shoes of the Earth, which are proudly built by hand,” he says.

“We use a shoemaking technique that has been passed down from generation to generation for more than 700 years. The shoes are made from all natural and ethically sourced leather, beeswaxcoated cotton twine, plant-based glue, and natural dyes. We stay true to tradition throughout the entire process. The final product is a simple and beautiful shoe that is extremely comfortable and durable,” Sep says. Yemeni allow the feet to breathe by extracting sweat due to the porous structure of the leather from which it is produced. “These shoes are designed to keep feet healthy and connected to the Earth, using organic materials from this land.

Our products keep the unique tradition and technique alive and share with others outside of our culture,” Sep says.

Sep describes the process for making yemeni: “The tanned cattle and buffalo skins forming the base are called hearts gön, and the cow skins used on the face are called sahtiyan. Sheepskin is used in the inner lining, and cow leather is used in the inner sole, called oak. The parts of the shoes are adhered with a plant-based glue called çiriş. After the cutting of the leather, the laborious details of sewing by hand begins. The edges of the shoe are carefully sewn using a beeswax twine with the help of a leather needle called biz. The upholstered Yemeni is inverted and inserted into the mold. After cutting around it, the form is removed from the mold. The yemeni is then ready to be remolded.”

Cultural continuity is important to Sep, so Tigris Handmade continues to train new masters to continue their cultural tradition of shoemaking. “In Mesopotamian culture, handicrafts hold a significant importance. As nomadic people, we constantly roamed in search of pastures for our livestock. Since we did not have much access to our written language, we relied on oral storytelling for intergenerational learning and the passing down of wisdom.

These stories, along with the tradition of handicrafts, are essential cornerstones of cultural preservation because they are maps and symbolic of who we are,” he says.

In today’s industrialized world, quality craftsmanship is to be valued. “There are still a few master craftspeople who produce yemeni in Diyarbakir, Gaziantep, and Kilis dedicated to maintaining this original artform, honoring our culture and the masters who came before them,” Sep says. “Tigris Handmade is proud to support these skilled craftsmen and the high quality and all natural products that they produce. In a world that is becoming more and more dependent upon technology, we have taken a step back to celebrate the shoe that has stood the test of time in its authentic and original form.”

The Cultural Survival Bazaars are Back!

December 14–17, 2023 • The Prudential Center, Boston, MA Stay tuned for more dates and locations: bazaar.cs.org

All photos courtesy of Tigris Handmade.

Cultural Survival Quarterly December 2023

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