Peaceful Societies

Scores of Nubians demonstrated peacefully last Thursday in front of the parliament building in Cairo for their right to return to their old homeland along the Nile south of Aswan.

They were forced out of their villages in the 1960s when the High Dam at Aswan was completed, and the Egyptian government has never adequately compensated them for the loss of their homes and their livelihood. Resettlement villages north of the dam were inadequate, and built in locations where they could not pursue their traditional economic activities—farming and fishing.

The Nubian demonstrators accused the former government of the deposed autocrat Hosni Mubarak of persecuting them. One protester demanded that the Nubians should have the right to be represented in parliament. The Nubians claimed that they had a right to return to their homeland, and Mubarak had ignored that right, despite the offers of help from international organizations.

Apparently the protesters were hoping to capture the attention of the larger Egyptian population with their demonstration. The People’s Assembly building, where the lower house of Egypt’s parliament meets, is perhaps 500 metres, about 1,600 feet, away from Tahrir Square, so it appears as if the Nubian demonstrations on Thursday were not affected by the military crackdown on Friday against protesters in the much larger, more famous, location.

A couple Hutterite colonies in Montana are hoping to make some profits from a new agricultural business that has the virtue of being, they feel, both sustainable and environmentally sensitive. It appears from a news report as if environmental considerations are very important to the colony.

The Miller Colony near Bynum, Montana, and the East End Colony near Havre are entering the fish farming business. They are determined to not make the mistakes that many earlier fish farms have made. With their hog operations now losing money, they needed to try other business options.

The Miller Colony pioneered the venture last year. David Wipf, the Secretary/Treasurer and spokesman for that colony, had heard of a Hutterite tilapia farming business in the Dakotas. He wondered if it would be possible for his colony to get into fish farming of some sort, perhaps raising salmon. They were already comfortable with growing many different agricultural products, but “fish are a different animal,” he told a reporter with a smile.

The colony quickly learned that the state of Montana considers coho salmon to be an exotic animal species, so the department of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks (FWP) of the state required the colony to surmount numerous requirements in order to be licensed as a salmon farm.

A five-person panel specified that the colony had to get a permit to introduce an exotic animal into the state. Tim Feldner, the manager of commercial wildlife permitting for FWP required the colony to build the salmon farming operation at least 200 feet from any surface water, and it had to be completely outside any 100-year flood plain.

He also would only permit salmon eggs to come into the state, and not live fish. Fish would have to be grown, butchered, and processed on the site. No live fish would be permitted to leave the colony grounds. The federal Food and Drug Administration and the county sanitation agency would also have to approve the facilities.

The regulations were designed to try and prevent any tragic environmental problems from developing. Wastes from the fish farming would not be allowed to come within 200 feet of any surface water, including even intermittent streams. The agency was also concerned about the possibility of any gutted fish remains being carried away by birds, because they might get into the native fish habitat. Furthermore, the FWP requires each batch of salmon eggs to be tested for bacteria or diseases that could harm native species.

Mr. Feldner commented, “aquaculture in this scale has not really been done in Montana. We want to lay a good foundation so it’s done correctly.” Ken Stagmiller, manager of the fish health lab for FWP in Great Falls, described the way the agency tests for diseases in the fish eggs—by dissecting samples and searching for egg-transmitted pathogens. He said he was quite impressed with the Hutterite operation. He is curious to see if they can be successful at aquaculture.

The Miller Colony uses the latest technology to filter out wastes from the water, which is continually re-circulated in 30-foot diameter tanks. At other fish farms, salmon are often raised in open pens next to oceans, where non-native species can escape, spread diseases, and introduce alien pathogens. They are also grown in land-based pens, but many operations feed the salmon as much as five pounds of fish meal for every pound of meat sold. Those aquaculture operations, in other words, are hardly sustainable, a designation that has become increasingly important to many consumers.

The Hutterites are aware of growing concerns about environmental dangers and sustainability issues surrounding aquaculture. They are also aware that the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch program now approves of raising coho salmon in land-based facilities with proper tanks and filters in a sustainable fashion. Wal-mart and Target stores are saying they will only sell fish grown in a sustainable manner. In sum, the Hutterites have many incentives to get this operation right.

The colony has erected 100 by 275 foot barns for the fish tanks, with locks and signs that prohibit anyone from entering who has been near waterfowl in the previous 24 hours. The salmon—the first batches of 10,000 and 12,000 eggs arrived in December—have now grown to several inches in length. By fall they should weigh about six pounds and be ready to fillet and sell. The fish will spend their lives in the tanks, being pumped from one to another as they grow. The risk of them getting out into the wild is minimal. Nearly 99 percent of the water is re-circulated and reused every 30 minutes in the farming operation.

The colonies purchased the expensive aquaculture equipment from the AquaSeed Corporation, a Washington-based firm which, through its SweetSpring label, supplies the fish eggs and the fish food. The company maintains that the fish food they provide is superior to that used in traditional salmon farms because it is made with a blend of grains, beans, and other vegetable proteins, along with only a minimal amount of fish protein.

Mr. Wipf, the Miller Colony Spokesman, says that other Montana Hutterites have expressed a lot of interest in their operation. The East End Colony is actively following their lead. Mark Waldner, manager of the fish barn at that colony, is not sure how much water his operation will use, but he suspects it will be no more than their hog production did. The water is reused, just like at the Miller Colony.

He indicates that his colony plans to sell some of their salmon locally, as a good-will gesture to Montana people who have supported them in their new venture. They plan to offer some of the fresh fish meat at the Great Falls farmers market later this year, along with the vegetables they grow.

Erudite and scholarly, yet charming and fun, the online publication Lepcha Aachulay Magazine provides a wonderful voice for an ancient culture and a still peaceful society.

On April 1, the magazine posted three folksongs. The third, “Who Says the Lepchas Are Vanishing,” is especially enjoyable. “The beloved children of Nazanognyoo,” it begins, “the able and gifted children of Fadaongthing, originated from the laps of Creator, who says the Lepchas are vanishing?” Accompanied by a violin-like instrument, a chorus of five people sing, in Lepcha, a song extolling the permanence of their culture and society.

“The Rivers Teesta and Rangeet are still alive and running,” the YouTube performance continues. It urges the Lepchas to stand up—so that their historic king, Gaeboo Aachok, “did not die in vain from the Bhutanese swords.” Black clouds “are gathering on four sides,” the singers intone, with an effective English translation provided. An attractive young woman pantomimes with fluid motions the Lepcha words.

But the song does not urge the Lepcha to rearm or even to resist the domination of their land caused by invasions of various other peoples over the centuries. Instead, it repeats the opening stanza, that they originated from the laps of Creator. They may be a small minority in their country now, but they still have pride in their ancient culture.

The second song, a humorous number called “Song of the Porcupine,” focuses on a human being dressed as the title animal, dancing and prancing in an outdoor setting on four hands and feet. A chorus singing the porcupine’s song accompanies the grainy footage of the dancer, with both Lepcha and English wording provided. The subject of the song, the King of the Porcupines, roams high and low over hill and dale, eating various foods, going in and out of its burrow, enjoying life.

Published by Azuk Tamsangmoo Lepcha, older postings to the magazine in March include a rich display of cultural articles and interesting information. A 1,500 word piece dated March 31, “Who Are the Lepchas,” provides a brief history of the Lepcha people. Much of it is valuable to an outsider. Lyangsong Tamsang, the author, describes the origin of the Lepcha, the earliest inhabitants of the region of South Asia centered on Sikkim but including, originally, parts of Nepal, Bhutan, and West Bengal.

“Lepcha” is a corruption of a Nepalese term for the indigenous inhabitants of the region, anglicized by the British into its current form. They originally called themselves “Mutanchi Rong Kup Rum Kup,” which means “Beloved Children of Mother Nature and God” in the Lepcha language, and they still refer to themselves as “Mutanchi” or as “Rongkup” rather than as “Lepchas.”

They are still mostly nature worshippers. The author indicates that Joseph Dalton Hooker, the famous nineteenth century British botanist and explorer, in his book Himalayan Journals, complimented the Lepchas as outstanding botanists and naturalists. They have, in the opinion of Lyangsong Tamsang, an “intimate knowledge of all flora and fauna found in the Darjeeling, Sikkim, and Illam hills.” The history describes how the original Rongkup people were subjected by the Tibetans, now called Bhutias, then by Nepalese, and finally by the British.

“Nye Mâyel Kyong, a Paradise on Earth,” the previous post in the magazine dated March 29, provides the story of a Lepcha myth about a holy, eternal paradise village in which immortal human beings live. One day an original Lepcha man follows a wild boar into the hidden village. It turns out to be a tame pig, but the village people, seven elderly couples, welcome him with gracious hospitality and invite him to stay overnight.

When he leaves in the morning, the seven pairs of children who send him off—they become youths by mid-day—then disappear into the mountains. The annual Sakyoo Rum Fat harvest festival each year celebrates those seven Lepcha couples who gave them fruit, vegetable, and cereal seeds to plant.

Earlier posts in March include a gallery of photos of Lepcha people and a scholarly, descriptive bibliographical article about Lepchas manuscripts and books, their history and locations. The earliest article in the month briefly describes the rhythmic tones used in reading Lepcha manuscripts.

The magazine is worth careful study for its effective balance of probing scholarship and interesting popular material.

An invasion of the Ju/’hoansi territory in Namibia known as the Nyae Nyae Conservancy, which began nearly two years ago, ended in a Namibian courtroom on Tuesday last week. The farmers who illegally invaded the indigenous reserve have been fined and the case appears to be closed.

Nyae Nyae Conservancy map The dispute started in early May 2009 when five Herero farmers living near Gam, just south of the Conservancy in Namibia, cut the fences and invaded with their cattle. They complained that their animals were eating a poisonous weed on their own land. Shortly after, more farmers brought their cattle through the fence and onto Ju/’hoansi property. Within a couple weeks, 29 Herero families had brought more than 1,000 head of cattle into the Conservancy.

As details emerged, it became clear that the invasion threatened the entire beef industry of Namibia. The deadly foot and mouth disease may be present in the wild animal population in the Conservancy, and the fence the invaders cut was put up not so much to protect the wildlife as to protect cattle outside it from contact with wild animals within. If one carcass would turn out to be infected with the disease, the entire beef industry in the nation might be sanctioned internationally. The government quickly impounded all the cattle and moved them from conservancy property to another location, where they prepared them for auction.

Despite the loss of their cattle, the Herero families remained in the Conservancy. The Herero farmers are very poor themselves, as are the Ju/’hoansi, so a drama played out between the two poverty-stricken populations, both with supporters in high places. Advocates formed on both sides for a legal battle. Although politicians got involved, nothing much happened and the living conditions of the Ju/’hoansi suffered due to the unwanted presence of the Herero invaders in their communities.

On Tuesday, the Magistrates Court in Tsumkwe finally settled the matter. The 32 farmers now involved were each fined N$1,500 (US$224) for illegally entering the Veterinary Zone, the Conservancy property, maliciously damaging property, and grazing their cattle against the law in a communal location.

The accused farmers paid their fines to settle the criminal charges and the case was closed. The news report last week indicates that the government of Namibia never did auction off the Herero cattle. It concludes that the Ju/’hoansi “continue to face and feel the repercussions of the disturbance to their land.”

The wreck of a bulk cargo ship, which ran aground on a small island near Tristan da Cunha two weeks ago, threatens the incredibly abundant bird life, the neighboring islands, and perhaps the economy of the people who live on Tristan. About 20,000 endangered Rockhopper Penguins are believed to be covered with oil.

The story at first was picked up by the Tristan Times, but soon the world’s major news media, such as the New York Times and AFP posted articles as well. The best coverage, an hour by hour account with scores of dramatic photos, is provided by the Tristan da Cunha website.

The MS Oliva, a 738 foot long, 75,000 ton ship carrying a load of soy beans from Santos, Brazil, to Singapore, sailed straight into a rocky promontory of Nightingale Island at 7:00 AM on Wednesday, March 16. It is unclear why. A fishing vessel used by the lobster fishing industry on nearby Tristan, the MV Edinburgh, immediately went to the scene. A passenger liner, the MS Prince Albert, was also nearby and responded.

Zodiacs from the Prince Albert were able to get in under the stricken ship’s pilot ladder and rescue the sailors. Fifteen of the 22 crew members were taken by the Edinburgh to Tristan, while the others stayed on the scene in the rescue vessels. The fifteen sailors remain in Tristan for the time being where, in the words of the website, they can “enjoy the legendary hospitality of Islanders who have rescued and cared for shipwrecked mariners for nearly two centuries.”

The Oliva remained intact for a day until it started to break apart on the reef. It began leaking bunker fuel, the diesel oil that powers ships, and some heavy crude oil. Reports vary, but it appears as if the ship carried 1600 tons of bunker fuel and about 1500 tons of heavy crude oil.

Nightingale, 19 miles southwest of Tristan itself, is about one mile across, less than one-thirtieth the area of the main island. Nightingale and the nearby Inaccessible Island, plus other islets, are the breeding grounds for, literally, millions of sea birds. There are no mammals on these islands.

Late summer in the South Atlantic is an essential period for the sea birds, which need to fish constantly for their growing chicks. Oil from the Oliva quickly surrounded Nightingale, its nearby islets, and Inaccessible Island. The oil is fouling the penguins and other bird species as they fish in the waters. A conservation team from Tristan has been working hard to clean oiled birds as best they can. The Tristan website includes many heartbreaking pictures of oiled seabirds and the efforts of their would-be rescuers.

The huge quantity of soy beans which may end up on the seabed—60,000 tons—may have a serious effect on the long-term health of the lobster industry in the area, on which the entire economy of Tristan depends. A more immediate concern is that rats might have escaped from the sinking ship. The shipping company denies that there were any rats aboard, but the conservation team from Tristan quickly began setting out baited rodent traps near the wreck. If a rat population were to become established on the island, the tragedy would be far greater than tens of thousands of killed birds.

None of the news reports mentions the fact that humans—the people living on Tristan—have been sailing their longboats to Nightingale for nearly 200 years to exploit the natural resources there. Peter Munch (1971), in his wonderful book Crisis in Utopia: The Ordeal of Tristan da Cunha, describes in rich, careful detail, the importance to the Islanders of their periodical trips across the sea to Nightingale, which used to be among the social highlights of the year.

Several boats would take the opportunity of good weather to sail across in January to harvest birds’ eggs. Later in the summer they would take young petrels for their fat, and at other times sail to Nightingale for guano. The people depended on those trips for needed supplies. The decision to take the trip caused a virtual holiday on Tristan, with everyone in high spirits, sending off the boats in the morning and welcoming them back a few days later. Whatever the purpose of the trip, the men would also bring back loads of birds to feast on. The whole settlement would be redolent from the smell of wild game cooking each night after the boats returned.

Munch also describes (p.271-281) the tension on the island in 1964 and 1965 when the island administrator tried to reform the people of their long-standing tradition of sailing to Nightingale Island when conditions were ripe. They needed to forget their old ways and accept the fact that they were now part of the Economic System, dependent on wages from their labor at the new fishing factory. The English administrator needed a reliable work force that wouldn’t drop their tools on a nice day and walk off for something as peripheral as a trip to an island 19 miles away. The fact that those trips were an essential part of their culture was immaterial.

But trying to reform the Islanders of their tradition proved to be too much of a challenge for him. After many delays in February 1965, the Islanders finally dropped their tools and left on their boats. Threats to fire absent workers proved to be empty—the administrator would have had to fire virtually the entire workforce on the island. The Islanders achieved their point: that their traditional subsistence economic activities were still essential to their culture.

As Munch concludes his chapter (p.281), the “Tristan Islanders had, in their own quiet way, met the challenge not by rejecting the values of affluence and progress but by putting them in second place to independence, individual integrity, and selective reciprocity based on personal relations.”

The Tristan website, in a section separate from the news about the maritime disaster, indicates that Nightingale Island is still an important source for penguin guano, used as fertilizer for potatoes on Tristan and gathered in January or February. It also supplies penguin or shearwater eggs. The Islanders still hunt young shearwaters in May to collect their fat.

The website does not mention if the island administrators still cause any problems with these trips. Presumably they have long since made their peace over the issue. Of course it is too soon to know if the Islanders will be able to take any more hunting or collecting trips this year.

Last Friday, 10 Birhor people joined an audience of Indian academics at a two-day conference in the city of Ranchi, in northeastern India, titled “Development and Change in Primitive Tribal Groups of Jharkhand.” The purpose of the conference was to explore ways that the tribal peoples of Jharkhand State might be able to join the economic mainstream of India.

Rajkumar Birhor, a 60-year old wage laborer from Kewal village in Hazaribagh District in the state told the conference that he wanted employment and education for his children. Another speaker, Vijay Birhor, a 25-year old school dropout, suggested that a source of good water for their village would be helpful. He added that people “don’t get to eat properly in the village.” Forty Birhor families live in Kewal. They are hoping for some state financial assistance.

The conference, organized by the postgraduate anthropology department of Ranchi University, included prominent academics such as Dr. A.A. Khan, the Vice Chancellor of the university, Ajit Kumar Singh, Head of the Post Graduate Department of Anthropology, P.K. Bhowmick, Head of the National Service Scheme at the Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur, and many others.

The International Fund for Agricultural Development, a specialized agency of the United Nations that seeks to alleviate rural poverty and hunger in developing countries, is currently assessing the situation. Help may be forthcoming. Vincent Darlong, the Country Office Coordinator, World Food Program, IFAD, said, “we will carry out a detailed project on primitive tribes, which will focus on poverty alleviation.”

Vice Chancellor Khan stressed the importance of preserving the cultural identity of the traditional societies. Prof. Bhowmick said that the term “primitive tribes” should not be used any longer. Mayank Prakas, a scholar, observed that the tribal peoples do not know their rights, a major issue for them. He said that once they learn about available programs, they can achieve food security.

While the academics and administrators were proposing their solutions last weekend, news emerged that a major water crisis has hit Birhor villages in the same district of Jharkhand. Birhor in Doorangarah village report that all sources of water have dried up. Wells, reservoirs, even streams have lost their water due to the failure of the monsoon rains for the second year in a row.

One Birhor youth, trekking to a distant village to obtain water, collapsed and died from dehydration. Three other Birhor from another village, Doorhara, also died due to a lack of water. Local officials have been informed, but the problem for administrators is that the Naxalite Maoist terrorists have a strong presence in the area. As a result, officials have implemented few rural developments such as roads and drinking water. Outsiders dare not visit the area.

Two weeks ago, in the same block of Hazaribagh District, guerillas staged a daring attack on a major road. More than 75 Naxalites stopped three busses, six trucks, and a van, forced 350 people out onto the roadway, and set fire to the vehicles. People who tried to flee were shot at, though no deaths were reported.

The violence lasted for over an hour before the guerillas disappeared into the surrounding forest. A couple hours later, the police finally arrived, promising to launch an investigation.

Since officials, perhaps understandably, do not visit rural areas subject to these kinds of threats, the Birhor have to walk long distances daily, five to eight kilometers in many cases, to obtain water and carry it back to their homes on their heads.

One school in the Naxalite area of the district not only has no water for the students, it now has virtually no students. It has 90 students registered, but recently only 9 were still attending. Due to the lack of water, the school suspended serving a mid-day meal two weeks ago, on March 17, which essentially closed the facility.

It is not clear how much, if any, attention the academics and administrators at the conference in Ranchi paid to the lack of water and the Naxalite terrorism in the Birhor communities.

The Museum of the American Indian in Washington will host the first U.S. showing this weekend of the new documentary film “Inuit Knowledge and Climate Change.” The Inuktitut language production, with English subtitles, was developed by Zacharias Kunuk, the well-known director of the prize-winning film “Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner,” along with Ian Mauro, a scholar from the University of Victoria.

The film is already available on its website, so anyone can watch it over the Internet. The documentary, filmed in a similar, evocative style as Atanarjuat, features the voices of the indigenous people—hunters, elders, local people—talking about their lives and the changes they are experiencing due to climate changes.

It opens with people telling viewers how conditions used to be, when they were young and they were being raised out on the land. Their stories are backed up by great footage of wizened elders, charming children, and lovely people enjoying themselves outdoors, though dressed in very contemporary, modern garb.

“Our parents and grandparents taught us how to live, survive on the land, and be a good person,” Dora Pudluk from Resolute Bay explains while the camera shows a man carrying a fish on a line, and then putting it in a pot to cook. Elijah Nowdlak, from Pangnirtung, says, “We were taught to take care of wildlife and harvest only what we required.” A group of people are seen squatting around a large tray of food, from which they are eating and sharing.

The focus shifts when Rita Nashook of Iqaluit says that southern people do not want to understand the Inuit. Her comment becomes the theme for much of the film. “They’re ignorant about our culture, don’t consider our opinions.” The video includes people, animals, and birds doing things out on the land, while various types of music or natural sounds provide additional background. There is no omniscient narrator.

The story gradually focuses on climate issues. People describe the effects of a warmer earth in their region. Sheila Watt-Cloutier, a prominent Inuit leader, gives erudite explanations of the conditions that are causing climate change. Another leader, Mary Simon, explains that they are a hunting culture, and climate change is affecting the animals they rely on for their food. She discusses the differing perceptions of global warming between themselves and outside scholars. “Scientists,” Simon says, “talk about climate change with studies on pollution and toxins, whereas Inuit discuss the effects as they occur within our lives.”

The people describe how the temperatures warmed dramatically ten years ago. It has remained very warm ever since. The glaciers that used to cover the land are now gone, they say, the ice is thinning, the edge of the sea ice is changing, and there are fewer icebergs. The Arctic is still cold, but not as cold as it was in earlier decades.

The land is also changing due to climate conditions, not just the water and ice. The permafrost is degrading. It may look like land, but as it melts, the land will become mud with gravel on top. Inuit communities will be in danger.

Antagonism toward southerners, particularly biologists, comes out most strongly in a segment on polar bears. The Inuit maintain that the polar bear population has increased greatly over the past 30 years. It used to be rare to see one, but now they are common everywhere. With ample footage of big white bears in the background, people describe how everyone is now concerned about the frequent dangers they pose, a change from the past. Many Inuit blame the biologists for their bear problems. The animals are no longer afraid of humans, a situation caused, people feel, by the wildlife biologists themselves with their constant tagging, collaring, and monitoring.

As if to punctuate the anti-scientist attitudes, however, the next segment concentrates on the opinions, expressed by four different people, that climate change is caused by a recent tilting of the earth’s axis. Perhaps the filmmaker purposely wanted to cast doubt on the accuracy of the earlier statements about polar bears, though that is not clear. The speakers explain how the recent tilting of the earth’s axis has changed the angle of the sun’s rays, which is causing conditions to get warmer.

Because of toxins carried in by the winds, the Inuit have been advised that they should ease off on eating their traditional foods, which are now contaminated. But that is difficult for them. “If the human race is going to die off, Inuit may be the first,” one man says, as a woman holds a large fish on a rock and cleans it. Another woman picks up the same theme. “We cannot exist purely by making money. If we do not have our environment, we cannot survive, she says.” People preparing, sharing, and eating food caught and fished in the wild provide the backdrop for these somber expressions.

Miali-Elise Coley of Iqaluit, a younger person than many of the other speakers, talks about the need to protect the environment for the benefit of coming generations. “Although our elders will pass on, younger generations will inherit the future,” she says. “We must continue to have healthy food from the land: seal, caribou and fish.”

Immediately following her comment, the film shows a man handing a young child to another person on the shore, with a boat and water in the background. Sheila Watt –Cloutier says, “our elders are non-confrontational. It’s not their way to speak aggressively. However, the younger generations are becoming more vocal, and we have to be. We have to think of our children and grandchildren,” she concludes.

According to a press release, the screening will be simultaneously broadcast online (www.isuma.tv and at AmericanIndian.si.edu/webcasts). After the screening, Mauro will be on stage along with a museum staff moderator, plus Kunuk will be connected via Skype, to answer questions from viewers worldwide via the social media networks. The screening will be at 2:00 p.m. on Sunday, March 27, in the Rasmuson Theater at the Museum.

Another press release indicates that the film will be shown in New York City next Thursday, March 31st, at the New York branch of the same museum, the George Gustav Heye Center. The showing, at the facility across from Battery Park downtown, will open the 15th Native American Film and Video Festival.

The familiar phrase “no news is good news,” first attributed to King James of England in 1616, certainly has applied to the Ifaluk Islanders over the past few weeks. Does the traditional, peaceful island even exist any longer? The massive earthquake in Japan on Friday, March 11, raised fears of a huge, devastating tsunami for the entire Pacific basin.

Would it smother out all life on a small atoll in the Federated States of Micronesia, a speck of land where the highest point above sea level is, according to Richard Sosis, only a few meters above sea level—and a bit higher if you climb a palm tree. Ifaluk has two main islands separated by a shallow channel, plus a third much smaller one across a deeper channel. The islands partially surround a crystal lagoon, protected by a ring of coral, where the people do a lot of fishing. They grow crops such as taro root on the slightly higher ground.

Global climate change is a real issue on Ifaluk. The increasingly high seas put more salt water into the soil, polluting it and making the cultivation of taro roots, their staple food, difficult. A 30 foot tsunami would drown the island and wash away most life.

The question for the week, at least for this website, was, what had actually happened on Ifaluk? With all the news and horrifying video footage of the earthquake, the tsunami, and the nuclear reactor crisis in Japan, how did the Pacific islands fare? News from the coast of California and Oregon was immediate—the high water caused some damage. Later, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service revealed that the tsunami had destroyed thousands of albatross nests—adults and chicks—on the Midway Islands, an outlier of the Hawaiian Chain and a National Wildlife Refuge.

The first reports out of Yap State—Ifaluk is one of the Outer Islands administered by Yap—in the Federated States of Micronesia were inconclusive. Several missionaries posted stories to their blogs reporting, for instance, how they had alerted other missionaries about the expected tsunami and then fled to the tops of mountains. Jehovah’s Witnesses on Guam reported that all was well with them. Mormon missionaries in Micronesia also reported that they were fine. But they were on the larger islands.

Finally, one of the Mormon blogs included news from Ifaluk. The blog authors, Elder and Sister Sheppard, discuss their reactions when they first heard the news about the coming tsunami. Rush around and warn people; make some phone calls. Leigh—Elder Sheppard—adds more information when he replies, later, to one of the questions posted in the comments section of the blog.

“As far as I have been able to determine, pretty much all of Micronesia was mercifully skipped over by the tsunami. I have seen Doppler displays showing the dispersion of the waves, and we simply were not in the path of the larger swells. We were also blessed by the fact that it was low tide at the time.”

He continues a few paragraphs later, “I have heard no reports from any of our outer-island friends, (and we have lots) or any of the other Micronesian Islands of any problems at all….”

The Mormon missionaries provide better information than a news service called the Pacific Islands Report, the government of the Federated States of Micronesia, or the government of Yap State.

So King James was mostly right. The Ifaluk Islanders were not hit by a tsunami. They presumably continue their conservative, obscure, existence on an isolated atoll, threatened at times by high water but not as yet ready to give up and abandon their island due to rising sea levels.

A Ladakhi woman suggests that attempts to prevent relationships between Buddhist and Muslim men and women are a poor idea, because when people from different communities get married, it creates harmony. A Ladakhi man adds that intermarriages between people of different communities and faiths are normal all over the world.

Sara H. Smith, from the Department of Geography at the University of North Carolina, explains in a journal article how the deterioration of inter-community relations in Ladakh over the past two decades have played out in personal and family decisions, such as whom to marry or how many children to have. She analyzes the situation from a feminist perspective, as the geography of the body.

The author explains that Ladakhi Buddhists no longer entertain their Muslim relatives, friends, and neighbors as much as they used to, and that Muslim hospitality toward the Buddhists has waned as well. Before 1989, Buddhists would visit their Muslim neighbors during major festivals, such as Eid, and would enjoy themselves.

Likewise, during Buddhist holidays, Muslims would visit and be entertained warmly. As one Muslim man told the author about the celebration of the Buddhist New Year, “the Muslims would go to the Buddhist families, and they would feed them food, and they would sing and dance together all through the night (p.205).”

In 1989, the worsening geopolitical situation in the state of Jammu and Kashmir prompted the Ladakh Buddhist Association, based in Leh, to start defining the position of the district in terms of religious identities. The LBA initiated a boycott of Muslims, ignoring the fact that Muslims in Ladakh differed from one another and from Muslims in Kashmir. Buddhists were forbidden from having any contacts with Muslims, social or economic, subject to threats of violence or fines.

While the intent of the boycott may have been, as the LBA claimed, to redress the grievances of the Buddhists against the Muslim government of the state, the effect was to quickly undercut the historic peacefulness of the inter-community relations in Ladakh. But not everyone paid attention to the dictates of the LBA. People continued to visit their relatives and friends on the other side of the divide, though often at night when they wouldn’t be spotted.

Muslims and Buddhists in the Leh area are so closely intermarried that most families have members from the other side. The boycott was unenforceable—it just caused trouble. A Muslim lawyer told the author, “Muslims and Buddhists have blood relations. We cannot be separated on the basis of faith (p.206).”

The author did field work in Leh in 2004, 2007, and 2008 to study the impact of the boycott on community relations, within the context of the larger Indian social and political situation. She quickly discovered that one of the major problems caused by the boycott and the worsening relations was the perception that Muslims were out-breeding Buddhists. In time, Buddhist leaders feared, they would greatly out number us, and all would be lost. Everyone perceived that Muslim women in Ladakh tended to not worry about how many children they have—more are better. Buddhist women worry about having more children than they can afford, so they tend to limit the size of their families.

One of the major social problems, as seen by both sides, is intercommunity marriages. Buddhist-Muslim marriages, which used to be quite common, are widely frowned upon now. Smith refers to this as “the surveillance of bodies (p.205),” which plays out in attempts to prevent Buddhists from marrying Muslims.

In 2004, the author interviewed a mixed couple—Paljor, a Buddhist man, and Fatima, his Shia wife. Smith asked why, with all the community pressures against them, they had decided to marry anyway. Palyor turned the question around to his wife, who replied, laughing, with her own question: “It’s because I liked you, isn’t it (p.207)?”

Even getting married was difficult for Palyor and Fatima. Despite an Indian law that prohibits interference with marriages between members of different communities or faiths, the reality is that Muslims or Buddhists in Leh have to issue marriage licenses or marry the couples. When minor, local bureaucrats and police are opposed, getting successfully married can be difficult.

So the couple decided to fly to New Delhi and get married in the anonymity of the big city. Palyor was able to leave, separately of course, but when Fatima got to the airport, the police stopped her. They had heard rumors of her affair with Palyor. So they called Fatima’s family and asked if she should be permitted to board the airplane. However, she had carefully prepared an excuse for her trip, so she was allowed to leave—and get secretly married in New Delhi. The couple told the author that this was a normal situation, one that they had expected.

Political pressures on Buddhist women to have more babies also has invaded their bodies, according to Smith. In 2006, the LBA sent a letter to doctors at the Leh hospital asking them to stop performing abortions and tubal ligations on women.

One Buddhist woman told the author how doctors had to deliver her third child, a son, with a caesarean operation during a difficult birth. The doctors convinced her afterwards that since she now had three children, she should have a tubal ligation, to prevent any further pregnancies. She agreed to the procedure because the birth of the son had been so traumatic, but she later came to regret it. She decided that she had done something wrong, committed a sin. Preventing the birth of another child might prevent the rebirth of someone who had died, perhaps an elderly relative. “In Buddhism, it’s a sin. It’s the worst sin,” she told the author (p.212).

Smith concludes that the visions of politicians who are concerned about the future of Ladakh, and who cherish their views of what it really should be, collide with the realities of families who are concerned about their own, very personal, issues. Will we have children to take care of us in our old age? Will our children be able to get educations and get good jobs?

The author views the matter as one that contrasts perceptions of collective security versus personal, bodily security. She takes the question one step further: “How can we better understand the interplay between intangible embodied individual experiences—religion, desire, fear—and the political uses to which they are put (p.213)?” She leaves the answers up to the reader.

Smith, Sara H. 2009. “The Domestication of Geopolitics: Buddhist-Muslim Conflict and the Policing of Marriage and the Body in Ladakh, India.” Geopolitics 14: 197-218.

Amish people from Indiana attended a conference in Utah on Friday with fundamentalist Mormons, some of whom are active polygamists, so members of both patriarchal societies could share their perceptions about abuse.

The third annual Safety Net Clinical Conference, which had the title “Creating Safety to Access Service: Building Bridges with Plural Communities,” was held on March 11th at the Washington County School District Offices in St. George, Utah. Social workers, government officials, and Mormon fundamentalists included the Indiana Amish in order to compare ways of building bridges to the outside world.

The focus of the proceedings, of course, was on the fundamentalist Mormons, estimated to number 38,000 people in Utah and surrounding states who are not members of the mainstream Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Dr. Tom Metcalf, a pediatrician who gave the keynote speech at the conference, told the audience, “as the trust builds between the outside world and the inside, then the services which are needed can be provided.” It’s not clear from the news report if he was speaking of both groups in attendance or just about the fundamentalist Mormons, the subject of the conference.

Linda Kelsch, a fundamentalist Mormon and co-founder of the polygamy support group Principle Voices, spoke about the outreach and connections that the conference explored. “Seeing a face on a human being, and noticing that ‘You look like me!’ I think that’s been powerful.”

The Amish who traveled from Indiana to attend the conference did not want their identities revealed. They toured several polygamist communities— Hildale, Colorado City, and Centennial Park, Arizona. They noted that both the Amish and the fundamentalist Mormons have been isolated from the majority populations, and that both practice a conservative theology.

The Amish spoke about the similarities their society shares with the fundamentalist Mormons. They said that both communities have to cope with allegations of child abuse and domestic violence. Members of both communities often do not desire outside help with those kinds of problems.

An Amish woman told the conference how, one day, when her husband had severely beaten her son, she finally called the local child protective services in Indiana. Her act was difficult for her to do since the Amish, like the fundamentalist Mormons, hesitate to become involved with the mainstream society. Her effort was wasted, she said. The social worker who came to investigate took some pictures, counseled the husband to take anger management classes, and left.

Another time she called the police, who came and took her husband to jail—for 13 hours. He returned home and made her life “a living hell.”

She told the 100 participants at the conference, “I finally decided it was because we were Amish and it was unusual we would ask the law to come in to help us.” After 21 years of abuse, a friend finally helped her leave her husband and get her into a women’s shelter. But she made it clear that it was essential to remain a part of her culture—because the larger world looked impossibly huge to her.

Some of the polygamist participants at the conference said that if Utah and surrounding states wanted to empower people to reach out for help when situations of abuse occur, then they should decriminalize polygamy. Ms. Kelsch, the polygamy supporter, said that building trust only goes so far before decriminalization is imperative. That would effectively open up the trust within the polygamist communities so people could feel comfortable in seeking outside assistance whenever necessary.

Some of the polygamist communities are opening up, a bit, to outside visitors. Centennial Park, in Arizona just south of the Utah border, hosted a Meet and Greet event at their community center the evening before the conference. Susie Timpson, chair of the Centennial Park Action Committee, said that they feel they have the right to live their lives, as long as they live decently.

But Susan Hammon, formerly a member of the Fundamentalist LDS Church, explained how she went to a friend for help when she was being abused. The friend referred her to a group called Safety Net, which organizes communications between polygamist communities and nonprofit or government services. Her friend, she said, “created a bridge for me to deal with the abuse going on in our family in the way that I trusted.”

Her story was similar to that of the Amish woman. Abuse exists in many societies, even some of the peaceful ones. The difficulty is finding ways, particularly in patriarchal societies like the Amish and the polygamist Mormons, for women to connect with help when they really need it.

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Buddhist and Muslim Families in Ladakh [journal article review]

Polygamist Mormons and Amish Share Experiences of Abuse

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