Peaceful Societies

An Amish newspaper, The Budget, proposed moving its content onto the Internet but subscribers responded angrily to the suggestion. According to an AP story last week, local Ohio news where the paper is published (Sugarcreek, in Eastern Ohio) is already made available digitally, but the rest of the newspaper, a national edition, will continue to be sold only in paper format. The publisher of the paper is paying attention to the angry letters from subscribers.

The correspondents in American Amish settlements threatened to stop reporting if the paper went ahead with its plan to go online. Known as scribes, the correspondents feared that their dispatches to the paper, if they were also made available on the Internet, would simply serve to entertain the “English”—the non-Amish.

The publisher of The Budget, Keith Rathbun, a non-Amish man who has a background of running an alternative newspaper in Cleveland, said that he’d “be a fool to not pay attention” to the complaints of his readers. The owners of the paper also own other Ohio businesses that provide goods for the Amish.

The Budget, with 20,000 subscribers in the U.S. and Canada, has been one of the major forms of communication among Amish people across the continent since it was founded in 1890. Their readers are continuing to maintain their subscriptions—the Amish do not have electricity, much less access to the Internet—and businesses continue to place their ads. The paper plans to expand the paid editorial staff, a remarkable difference from the larger media corporations that are struggling to survive in the digital age.

Rathbun says that his major problem is seeing that the papers get to subscribers on time via regular mail deliveries. He admits that people refer to his paper as the Amish Internet, and he suggests that it does serve a similar function for his subscribers.

It publishes a wide range of local news—the doings in church districts that other Amish are likely to be interested in.

Don Kraybill, an expert on Amish social affairs, indicates that The Budget and its smaller competitors provide a social glue for the Amish community. “They may not be able to worship together or collaborate together, but they can learn about each other through these newspapers,” he says.

Los Angeles style gangs are forming in the Zapotec community of Yalálag and the local villagers are trying to cope by performing stylized dances at religious celebrations. In a journal article last year, Adriana Cruz-Manjarrez analyzes the way the danzas chuscas, the local dance performances held during annual religious festivities, satirize a wide range of social problems caused by immigrants returning from the U.S.

Many village men and women migrate, legally and illegally, to Los Angeles to work. The money they send back to their community, remittances, forms an important source of funds for families and institutions. But the people who return to their homes bring back ideas and social patterns that are more typical of Los Angeles than of traditional, rural, southern Mexico. Young men fashion themselves like Los Angeles gang members, cholos, with shaved heads, loose T-shirts, tattoos, baggy pants, baseball caps, and athletic shoes that copy the styles of the streets of L.A.

The young people in Los Angeles join gangs because they are not supervised by their parents, they feel discriminated against, they believe they have no opportunities, and they like to hang out with others from their community. Their negative attitudes prompt them to not only join gangs but to take drugs and sometimes engage in violent, criminal activities.

When gang members return to their village, some sell drugs, rob villagers in broad daylight, and even kill innocent people. The Yalálag villagers thought, at first, it would be a temporary problem, but the cholos have stayed and formed local gang cultures that emulate the L.A. gangs, with similar external markers such as tattooing and street graffiti.

The cholos are starting to infiltrate the local schools, introducing drugs and violence. Gang members are thought to commit robberies when homes are empty. Appeals by residents to the community authorities have not been heeded, perhaps because the officials are not sure how to respond.

Local residents are responding in their own fashion—by focusing some of the performances during the annual danza chusca on the theme “Los Cholos,” “The Gang Members.” The danzas chuscas are stylized parodies of social events and situations in the village, performed during the festivities by troupes of male dancers who act both male and female parts.

The dancers who pose as males dress in costumes that mimic the cholo style, while the ones posing as females dress in high heels, pantyhose, and miniskirts. Their dances mimic and make fun of the gangland styles, both in L.A. and Yalálag. Hand gestures and body movements parody gang gestures and movements. The thrust of each dance is to comically show how the community rejects the activities of the gangs. It also brings into the open, satirically, the tensions between the local people and the teenage gang members. People are pleased that each dance mocks these issues in a playful fashion, without causing offense. The cholos themselves, of course, witness the dances and are aware of the criticism of the community, though presumably they are not directly threatened.

The author feels that the performances can be viewed on several levels. The dances convey to the cholos how the people perceive them, but they also allow the gang members to see their activities critically, from a distant perspective. In addition, the dances signify to the cholos that they are still members of the Zapotec village, which wants to integrate them once again into the community. As Cruz-Manjarrez writes, “the danzas chuscas performances … constitute a common symbolic language by which Zapotecs communicate with each other (p.12).”

Her analysis goes farther than just the L.A.-style gangs that have formed in the town. Many other aspects of the immigrants’ lives in Los Angeles, and their habits when they return to the annual festival, are also subject to parody by dancing.

People returning from L.A., of course, make more money than family members who have stayed in the village. The social strains caused by people who want to display their relatively greater wealth and their fancy clothes can be eased by the parodies on the dance floor. The village people who have jobs in the U.S. can afford to send large amounts of money, in village terms, to support the festival. Locals appreciate their contributions, and resent the donors for their assumption of a higher social status.

The villagers feel sad, confused, and angry about the attitudes of many returning people. They gossip about them, especially about their pretensions of wealth. They know that the immigrants, no matter what airs they may put on in the village, no matter how they might show off, are still laborers in Los Angeles.

The dancers seek to make fun of the immigrants’ pretensions with their “Los Yalaltecos” dance. They copy the dress styles of the immigrants, exaggerate their mannerisms, imitate and satirize their behaviors. Men dancing as female characters wear female clothing and plastic masks painted with exaggerated, women’s faces. Their wigs are dyed with outlandish, vibrant yellows. Dancers dressed as men wear exaggerated male costumes, such as peasant clothing.

Female characters mock the movements of women—blowing kisses, walking as if on a runway—while male characters make fun of the things men do. Movements of hands and arms, dance steps, and posturing all seek to convey a gentle critique of people who are returning to their home town and trying, with more or less success, to fit in for a brief period of time.

The dances don’t critique only the returnees. They also parody the people who have remained in the village and their feelings of alienation from their richer relatives. Problems of adjustment, conflicts between groups, difficulties of assimilation—social stresses are all subject to review, relief, and perhaps amelioration through the dances at the village festival.

Crus-Manjarrez, Adriana. 2008. “Danzas Chuscas: Performing Migration in a Zapotec Community.” Dance Research Journal 40(2): 3-22

Although the Supreme Court of Canada, in July, denied that a couple Hutterite colonies have the right to provincial drivers’ licenses without photos on them, the Hutterites have appealed for a rehearing. Led by the Wilson Colony near Lethbridge, Alberta, the two colonies decided to contest a 2003 ruling by the province that all drivers’ licenses must have personal photos. Previously, Alberta had allowed religious exemptions to the photo requirement for the licenses, as Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and Ontario still do.

The Hutterites believe that the second commandment in the Bible, which prohibits graven images, forbids them to allow photos of themselves to be taken. The Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench in Lethbridge agreed with the colonies in 2006, as did the Alberta Court of Appeals in 2007. The province appealed to the Supreme Court of Canada, which ruled in favor of the Alberta government in July 2009 by a four to three majority.

The two Hutterite colonies argue that the photo requirement violates the national Charter of Rights and Freedoms, while the province maintains, and the Supreme Court agreed, that the absence of photos on licenses could lead to identity theft. Appeals to the court for a rehearing are quite unusual, since it rarely grants such requests and it limits the reasons why it would even consider one.

Sam Wurtz, manager of the Three Hills colony near Calgary, the other participant in the suit, says that the close vote on the court gives them hope that the decision might be reversed. A spokesperson for the provincial government has indicated that his agency will participate in the renewed appeals process. The province will not, however, continue to issue special, temporary, drivers licenses to Hutterites from the colonies who are refusing to have their photos taken.

Greg Senda, a Lethbridge attorney who is handling the case for the colonies, would not predict the outcome of the renewed appeal. He said that a second hearing of a case by the court is “very rarely done.”

The de Young museum in San Francisco has announced that a new Inuit exhibition opened on August 28th. Called “Yua, Spirit of the Arctic: Eskimo and Inuit Art from the Collection of Thomas G. Fowler,” the exhibit displays artifacts and art objects dating from 2,500 years ago to the present.

The objects are from a private collection assembled by the late Thomas G. Fowler, a businessman, artist, and designer who had a strong interest in the Arctic peoples. Yua means spirit or soul, reflecting the Inuit concept that even inanimate objects from nature have spirits that should be respected.

The 100 or so objects in the exhibit are both utilitarian and aesthetic. Snow goggles, bowls, baskets, tools, and pipes complement such things as stone sculptures and animal carvings on whalebones and walrus tusks. Objects are practical, recreational and ceremonial. An interesting object is a cribbage board that is more than 100 years old, with a large number of animals that appear to be eating each other, perhaps symbolizing the cycle of life.

Thomas Fowler, who developed a graphic design business in Connecticut, started collecting Inuit art in the 1970s. He gradually built up a collection numbering 400 pieces. The exhibit in the de Young museum will be on view until December 31st.

An anonymous former Botswana official has admitted that his government ousted the G/wi and G//ana people from their homes in 2002 in order to expedite a proposed diamond mining project.

According to an article in the current issue of Dissident Voice: A Radical Newsletter in the Struggle for Peace and Justice, the highly-placed official told James G. Workman, an American environmental journalist, “I have seen the plans; I have looked at the blueprints…. But of course the water cut-off has to do with diamonds. It has everything to do with diamonds.”

The government has repeatedly told critics and the press that it was solely acting in the best interests of the San peoples when it removed them from their homes and resettled them in squalid refugee camps outside the reserve. It has consistently denied that its actions had anything to do with the search for diamonds in the desert. These statements appear to have been lies.

The article is credited to Survival International, the British NGO that has championed the San in their struggle against the injustices of the Botswana government. James Workman, who was contacted by the government official, is the author of the book Heart of Dryness: How the Last Bushmen Can Help Us Endure the Coming Age of Permanent Drought.

It discusses the specifics of the Botswana vendetta against the San peoples in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve—the way government agents destroyed their boreholes and dumped out their stores of water. Workman uses the San conflict with the Botswana government as an example of the stresses the rest of humanity will soon face as water resources worldwide dry up. The book was published in August by the Walker Company.

Diana Traverse, a resident of Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, has complained about the dress of the two Hutterite women lifeguards at the city waterpark. She feels that the full-length skirts of the two women might hamper them if they have to rescue swimmers in the pool.

She spoke with the head lifeguard, then to the city authorities that run the park, but she was not satisfied with their responses. She made a formal complaint to the CEO of the Manitoba Life Saving Society, Carl Shier, who evidently is the provincial authority that certifies the fitness of lifeguards. He told the press that he is investigating the complaint, but he really does not believe that the clothing the Hutterite women wear poses any risks. He understands the nature of the complaint, but nothing about the dress of the women contravenes the standards of the Life Saving Society.

Dean Janzen, the aquatic program supervisor for Portage la Prairie, says the city has a standard policy of red shirts and jackets for the lifeguards they hire, so they will always be easily visible. Other than that, lifeguards can wear whatever clothing they wish in order to be comfortable, so long as they can quickly and easily plunge into the water and perform a rescue at a moments notice.

If lifeguards are wearing sweatpants, they will dive into the water without taking them off. Likewise, someone wearing a skirt would jump in without removing it. Janzen’s comments defended his department’s policies. “All of my staff go through extensive training, and they’ve all been able to complete their training in the dress code that they so choose,” he said. The two Hutterite women made their dresses themselves out of lightweight materials.

Mr. Shier commented that in Australia, Muslim women that have become lifeguards wear what he calls a burqini, a loosely fitting garment that covers their hair and preserves their modesty appropriately. He praises the cultural outreach of Portage la Prairie, a city less than an hour’s drive west of Winnipeg on the Trans Canada highway, but he has arranged for a trained aquatics supervisor to check into the complaint. He takes the issue of clothing appropriate for lifeguards seriously.

At the same time, he praises the outreaching effort of the city. “I commend Portage and the supervisor there for taking the steps to employ people and certainly meet their needs and beliefs while meeting the needs of the city,” he said.

Lugu Murmu, a young Birhor man, tells his guest, Markus Schleiter, “from the beginning we Birhor dance every week at our dancing place.” The visiting anthropologist recently described his experience observing a night of dancing in a village in Orissa, a state in India’s northeast region. Schleiter’s brief essay was posted last week in PDF format on the website of the International Institute for Asian Studies.

Schleiter describes the small Birhor village as a collection of run down little huts covered with rusting, corrugated, sheet steel roofs. During his visit, the 70 inhabitants were all sitting outside their dwellings, which were built by the national government 13 years before. Earlier in the day, many of them had walked ten km to the market town of Jashipur, located on a main national highway, to sell their craft products. The Birhor village is in the midst of verdant rice fields.

Lugu at the time was 25, married, and the father of two children. He pursued the traditional Birhor occupation of going to a forest and making ropes from tree bark to sell in nearby markets. His wife had walked to the market in Jashipur that day and sold the ropes, enough to buy vegetables and rice for the coming week.

Lugu repeats his invitation to his visitor. “We Birhor work hard and go to the forest. That’s why we drink and dance every week from Tuesday onwards. Today we will dance all night! Come on, let’s go and have rice-beer.”

As the evening gets darker, people begin to congregate at the dance square. Visitors from neighboring communities have arrived, as well as the Birhor from a village 30 km away who have also been invited. Five young women stand up and sing a song together; some young men repeat the verses. The girls introduce a new verse, which again the boys repeat. Lugu tells the author that they are singing a traditional Birhor song.

A man picks up a hand drum and starts introducing a beat. The dancers hold their hands behind their backs and begin to move in a row together. Lugu and Schleiter take places in the rows—men and women normally alternate in the lines of dancers. The author admits he was unable to imitate the rhythms and steps, but the Birhor seem pleased that he is trying. They start another song, which Lugu again assures the author is Birhor.

The next morning, Schleiter decides to write down the words of the songs. He tries to find find out the Birhor lyrics he has heard the night before. Someone tells him to talk to either Lugu or another man, Ranjen. He finds the latter, who indicates he might be able to recall the words if he only had some rice beer to drink. The anthropologist gives him 10 rupees to pay for a couple bottles. Just before Ranjen returns, they hear the sound of motorcycle engines.

Three men drive into the community on two machines. One is an anthropologist from the state university, who has come to lecture the people about learning to write. He stands in front of the people with a colorful booklet in his hand and talks to a mostly uninterested audience of a few people. An hour later, after the visitors have motored away, Ranjen retreats and comes back with the rice beer, so they can continue their conversation about Birhor songs. Lugu is there too. Schleiter asks them to tell him the lyrics of the songs they had sung the previous night.

They deny that they know any Birhor songs. The previous night they were singing songs of the Santal, a neighboring tribal society in Orissa. The author was astonished, but both Birhor men insisted, again, that they had been performing song fragments from the Santal, people known for their singing and dancing traditions. They explained that since the Birhor move about from one place to another, they normally learn songs of the peoples they live near.

A year and a half later, Schleiter finally heard the Birhor perform songs that they admitted were truly their own. Since 1888, ethnographers have been mentioning that the Birhor have their own dances, but the author does not indicate that his friends were concealing anything from him on purpose. Instead, he argues, his example demonstrates that their culture has been changing. They retain some traditional songs and dances, but they also adopt cultural elements from the surrounding peoples. These patterns demonstrate that they are flexible, he suggests.

Adopting songs from other groups shows that they can accept new ideas and fit them into their changing future. He adds that categorizing the Birhor as a “tribal” society is an affirmative designation, one from which they can benefit. His essay includes three photos of Birhor dancing.

During an oral history interviewing project in September 2006, the Tristan Islanders revealed their suspicions about having their history interpreted by others. Ann Day, a British social historian, describes the project and the reactions of the Islanders to her and to her work in a recent journal article.

The project began when a visiting Scottish dental technician, who knows many of the islanders, got the idea for recording orally the stories of older people who had been involved with the evacuation to the UK between 1961 and 1963. He shared his proposal with the Oral History Society, which then suggested it to the Island Administrator. He discussed it with the Island Council, which decided it might be worthwhile.

Ms. Day began corresponding with the Island Council and others on Tristan da Cunha in order to develop a favorable rapport with the Islanders for the four-week project. She assumed, incorrectly, that when she arrived on the island, people would cooperate willingly by telling her, and her recording device, their stories. When she arrived on Tristan da Cunha with Ken Lunn, another British social historian, she quickly realized she was wrong.

The Islanders did not understand what the project was about and they were reluctant to cooperate. The Deputy Head teacher had mentioned in an e-mail before the project began that “many of the older people are a bit shy at having themselves recorded (p.47),” though that turned out to be an understatement.

The problem, Day feels, appeared to stem from the Islanders’ perceptions of themselves, which are derived from their stay in Great Britain from 1961 – 1963, a period that they steadfastly refused to characterize to the author as traumatic or out of the ordinary. She differs from them.

The Tristan Islanders were evacuated when the volcano on the island erupted in 1961. They were moved to England where their children were enrolled in local schools. The Islanders, of course, wore their traditional clothing; their dialect and their ways marked them as a unique group of people. Medical researchers examined them without explaining that they were interested only in the possibilities of unique genetic tendencies in an isolated human population. The British press viewed them as curiosities and ran many stories about their quaintness.

Some publications featured their otherness, with either a romantic or a negative slant. In contrast, Peter Munch’s careful, scholarly works had a more positive influence on the Islanders’ self image, Day feels. Their strong sense of individualism has become integrated with an equally robust feeling of collective strength as a result.

Day argues that the events of 48 years ago, combined with the Islanders’ reactions to decades of misinterpretations by many outside investigators and journalists, “left a legacy of skepticism about the motives of outsiders, which persist to the present day (p.49).”

Day invited the Islanders to allow her to interview them and record their discussions. For days, no one volunteered. She realized there was a problem and sought to break the ice with the community. She visited people along with the island doctor, a well respected South African who visits many people in their homes. With his introductions, Day was able to start developing individual relationships and snowballing those contacts with others. She attended local events and engaged in female activities that would, in the gendered island society, help her start building better relationships with the women. Developing friendships allowed her to begin gaining access to homes so her recording process could get under way.

One of her errors was that she had assumed, since they are English speaking people, they would understand the terminology she was using. It turned out they didn’t really know what “oral history” meant. Further, they had already formed negative impressions of her since she had used the term “interview.” That is the word that journalists use when they talk with Islanders and then misconstrue their story and their senses of themselves.

She promised the Islanders that she would not analyze the results of the interviews—the recordings would be available to them to construct, or reconstruct, their history, as they wished. She does, in this article, at least discuss some of the issues that surfaced during her visit. She found it interesting that some of the Islanders, who had described, in interviews in the 1960s, their recollections of idyllic childhoods in the UK, persisted with similar memories. The hostilities, the physical and cultural differences they experienced when they were in England, seem to have been forgotten.

One of the points that came out during the interviews with Day was the persistent sense of independence and freedom on the island. Children on Tristan feel free to wander wherever they wish, without fear from dangers, a condition that is very different from the experiences of English children. They play anywhere around the Settlement and in the fields beyond. Before television arrived, Tristan children were generally unaware of surrounding dangers.

One woman, born immediately after the people returned to the island in 1964, recalled, “When I look back I [realize] that all the things we did just made our childhood so exciting, and I think it also gave us more of a sense of independence than perhaps kids have today (p.52).”

Day feels that the Islanders want to have a consensus view of their two years in England as a time without problems, a period when they overcame difficulties easily. They want to believe that they had assimilated into English society without problems. During a conversation with Day, one man mentioned that he had been called a “Tristan wog” in England, but his wife immediately tried to correct him. She wanted to gloss over any expression of unfavorable experiences with the English people.

Day concludes that the Islanders’ insistence on telling a positive story about their time in England is a symptom of their pride and independence from interpretations of their identity and history by outsiders. Their supposed uniqueness in the early 1960s has perpetuated, she feels, a collective need for a positive story. Their own story.

Day, Ann. 2008. “A Reappraisal of Insider-Outsider Interviewing: The Tristan da Cunha Oral History Project.” Oral History 36(1): p.45-55

The Director-General of UNESCO, Koïchiro Matsuura, has announced that the John Marshall archive of Ju/’hoansi film and video has been added to the Memory of the World Register. His recent decision, following a nomination by a panel of experts, adds 35 documents, collections and archives to the UNESCO listing, which now includes 193 works in all.

According to the announcement on the UNESCO website, works added to the list this summer include the Magna Carta, the Diaries of Anne Frank, and other very well-known works such as the Ju/’hoansi Film collection. The “John Marshall Ju/’hoan Bushman Film and Video Collection, 1950-2000” is held by the Smithsonian Institution’s Human Studies Film Archives. As the UNESCO citation states, it is “one of the seminal visual anthropology projects of the 20th century providing a unique example of sustained audiovisual documentation of one cultural group, the Ju/’hoansi, of the Kalahari Desert in northeastern Namibia, [for] over half a century.”

UNESCO cites the “unparalleled historical record” of the collection, which preserves, on film and video, a record of the traditional way of life of the Ju/’hoansi. The films also document the ways their lives have been transformed by rapidly changing economic and political conditions in Namibia.

Jake Homiak, the director of the Smithsonian’s Anthropology Collections and Archives Program, commenting on the news from UNESCO, said that “during [Marshall’s] lifelong association with the Ju/’hoansi (Bushmen) he became an advocate for those he documented, using his films as tools for education and empowerment.” Mr. Homiak observes that Marshall was a leading proponent of ethcial values in the field of ethnographic filmmaking.

The Marshall collection in the Smithsonian includes 767 hours of unedited video and film footage, taken during his fifty year career as an ethnographic filmmaker. It also includes edited films and videos, still photos, audio tapes, and maps. Other materials in the Marshall collection include correspondence, logs, transcriptions, translations, and proposals, plus publications about Marshall and his work.

Documentary Educational Resources, in Watertown, Massachusetts, which produces, distributes, and promotes ethnographic film and video resources, including the Marshall works, publicized the UNESCO announcement. The organization states on its website that Marshall’s work “is unrivalled as a long-term visual study of a single group of people.” DER indicates that Marshall’s films include “the personal histories of individuals, documents of a now non-existent way of life, and the unfolding of massive social and economic change as experienced by one group of people over a period of fifty years.”

A war of words continues in Sikkim over a proposed hydroelectric power project that endangers the natural ecology and spiritual values of the Dzongu Reserve, the homeland of the Lepcha people.

Early last week, news stories in India reported that a White Paper presented by the Sikkim State Government, “Development of Hydropower Resources of Sikkim,” examines problems relating to the proposed project. One issue the document focuses on is the opposition of the Lepcha people, which, it suggests, may present a national security concern. Sikkim, after all, is located on India’s sensitive northern border with China, and the continued good will of the indigenous people in the border region is very important to the nation.

The White Paper states, “a section of Lepchas of Dzongu in North district (under ACT) have raised vital issues related to the likely adverse impacts of hydro power projects on the conservation of their land, livelihood and environment. Their concerns need to be … examined from a very local perspective.” The group Affected Citizens of Teesta (ACT) has been leading nonviolent protests for several years against the dam projects.

Prepared by a research agency in New Delhi, Entecsol International, the White Paper emphasized the value of maintaining the good will of the Lepcha. “Since North district is surrounded by international borders, such kind of protest [by ACT] with strong undercurrent[s] of ethnicity and socio-political deprivation may not go well with the primary parameters of national security. This definitely needs the attention of the government.” A comparable situation exists in Ladakh. A recent journal article pointed out the importance for national security of the Indian Army building goodwill with the rural people in that region.

A few days after the White Paper was released, ACT issued its own statement, focusing on what it contends are illegalities in the ways the government is handling the hydropower project development. ACT General Secretary Dawa Lepcha charged that the state government has violated the Land Acquisition Act of 1894, a law dating from the colonial era which gave the national government and the states the right to acquire private lands for various public purposes.

Mr. Lepcha argues that the government is acquiring private lands for the benefit of the private company which is developing the project, the Himagiri Hydro Energy Pvt., Ltd. He cites various sections of the act and argues that the actions of the government and the company violate them. ACT has submitted its claims to the Chief Secretary of Sikkim, and it indicates that if the government does not address them by September 21, it will take the matter into court.

Based on information in the White Paper, Mr. Lepcha also questions the ways the government is handling the financing of the project. ACT suggests that unpredictable volumes of water in the rivers, the recession of glaciers, and other landscape issues might affect the repayment of loans.

Peaceful Societies

Peaceful Societies

Amish Newspaper Avoids the Internet

Dance Performances Relieve Social Stresses [journal article review]

Hutterites to Appeal Photo License Decision

New Inuit Exhibit Opens in San Francisco

Confirmed: Botswana Persecutes San People for Diamonds

Hutterite Women Lifeguards Challenged in Manitoba

Birhor Dancing

Recollections of Tristan Islanders [journal article review]

Ju/’hoansi Film Archive Honored by UNESCO

Power Dam in the Dzongu Reserve

Subscribe to our weekly digest

Subject Listing

Previous News and Reviews