The Okapi Conservation Project (OCP) has declared Friday, October 18, as World Okapi Day and has asked fans of the rare mammal to help spread the word. The project is particularly focused on generating enthusiasm for protecting the animals among school children. A side benefit would be to foster awareness of the plight of the Mbuti, who live in the Ituri forest along with the okapis.

An okapi in the Ituri Forest
An okapi in the Ituri Forest (Photo by Kim Gjerstad/Terese Hart on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The website announcement of the special day for celebrations explains that while the okapi is a cultural symbol of northeastern D.R. Congo, its existence is endangered by poaching, slash-and-burn agriculture, and illegal gold mining in its home range. The okapi is a horse-size mammal related to the giraffe. The only wild population of the animals in existence occurs in the northeastern Congo rainforests.

The fate of the okapi is often linked in press reports to that of the Mbuti—both live in the same forest and both are subject to murderous hostilities from a wide range of outside interests. An article four years ago discussing the violence affecting both people and wildlife said that around 30,000 okapi used to live in the Ituri Forest but by March 2015 that number had dropped in half. Another article published in January this year indicated that the number has further dropped to an estimated 10,000 animals.

Crossing the Epulu River in the Okapi Wildlife Reserve
Crossing the Epulu River in the Okapi Wildlife Reserve (Photo by Terese Hart on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The Okapi Wildlife Reserve, a 5,300 square mile UNESCO World Heritage Site in the Ituri Forest dedicated to protecting the okapi and other wildlife, is located just outside Epulu, the community where scholars have focused their research on the Mbuti and the okapi. But studying the rare animals—or the indigenous people, for that matter—is quite hazardous.

Armed militias murder villagers with impunity, illegal mining operations carry on their brisk trade in minerals that are in high demand on world markets, and poachers take out animals for bush meat and for the ivory trade. Compounding the problems, the communities around the Ituri Forest are suffering from a spreading plague of the Ebola virus. Visitors to the northeastern Congo are either crazy or highly dedicated health workers.

A Mbuti net hunter near Epulu
A Mbuti net hunter near Epulu (Photo by Radio Okapi in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The World Okapi Day website indicates that preserving the culture of the Mbuti is just as important as protecting the okapi. After all, they have lived together in the Ituri Forest for 40,000 years. World Okapi Day provides a good reason for the local Mbuti to perform their dances, thus encouraging them to preserve their traditional culture.

The special focus of the World Okapi Day is on getting children to take an interest in the animals. Organizers will go into villages in the Ituri region and conduct sporting matches, races, and other events with built in messages about protecting the forest and its rare animals. Conservation information will be shared in the schools. Prizes such as school supplies and backpacks will be awarded to the children in hopes that they will take the conservation ideas home to share with their families.

While the website focuses on the okapi and the Mbuti, it also lists numerous organizations and zoos around the world with which the OCP has partnered. The OCP welcomes support from anyone who wants to help preserve a rare animal—and, by extension, an endangered peaceful society.

 

The journey to the U.S. by Greta Thunberg, the 16-year-old Swedish advocate of taking action against climate change, has been widely covered by the major news media. In addition to being a leading actor in the youth climate activists’ movement, Ms. Thunberg evidently delights in catching the attention of people by making startling comments. She told an interviewer in New York City that the smell she encountered there was “indescribable,” much to the delight of her local audience.

Two Tahitian men circa 1870
Two Tahitian men circa 1870 (Photo by Paul-Emile Miot in Wikimedia, in the public domain)

Sweden has not been the only country to produce youthful climate activists. A group of four young Tahitian men recently publicized the importance of combating climate change in their island, and they too used an effective gimmick to help them gain notice. They pushed a wheelbarrow for four days around the perimeter of Tahiti as a way of symbolizing the natural plenty of their island. Two of the major news services in French Polynesia covered the event.

According to a report in Tahiti Infos, the point of the wheelbarrow was their hope that people along the way would fill it with local foods as they took their walk around the island, symbolizing the abundance of their country. They hoped to demonstrate that since they have such plentiful amounts of food, Tahitians didn’t need to use highly polluting oil to bring in more from overseas. Their wheelbarrow gimmick should show the people a way to contribute to a less polluted atmosphere.

Edouard Fritch, Tahitian politician and President of French Polynesia
Edouard Fritch, Tahitian politician and President of French Polynesia (Photo by Denys/Edouard Fritch in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Heimanu, one of the four men, said about the climate crisis (in the wording of the Google translation) “We must act now, right now. It is necessary that the politicians, the governments have to register this, [we] have no more choice.” Antoine, another member of the group, added that the role of the politicians should be to protect the people, especially since the situation is so urgent.

Jason, another member, had taken the same walk back in February. That time around, though without the wheelbarrow, he had proclaimed the same message about climate change. Jason admitted that he had not planned their adventure back in February very well. He and a colleague had gotten lost on the first day out. Darkness had overtaken them without lights and they had to contend with stray dogs, cars that did not see them, and similar mis-adventures.

View of Taravao on the coast of Tahiti
View of Taravao on the coast of Tahiti (Photo by FRED in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

So this time around he had prepared a detailed itinerary, starting with a 5:00 AM departure from Papeete on Friday, September 13, pushing the wheelbarrow over a 114 km. course for the next four days. They had planned to stay the nights in Taravao, Papara, and Punaauia as they circled the island and returned to the cathedral in the city at 12:00 PM on Monday the 16th. And this time, all four hikers would have headlamps with spare bulbs.

Another reporter found the intrepid walkers at the end of the afternoon on the third day of their journey in Paea, accompanied by some members of an organization called Rainbow Ohana. Jason told that reporter that the walkers were quite satisfied by the turnout they had experienced so far. “People were waiting for us at the edge [of] the road, they helped us a lot. All around the island, people honked and they encouraged us.” They got lots of food donated into their wheelbarrow.

Cathedral of Notre-Dave in Papeete
Cathedral of Notre-Dave in Papeete (Photo by Kajikawa in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The four activists invited everyone to join them on the last few kilometers into the Papeete cathedral. They also invited their fellow Tahitians to join them at a march for nature and the climate in the city the following Saturday, September 21.

“Polynesia will be strongly impacted by climate change in the coming years,” according to the organizers of the big rally on Saturday. “On September 21, at the same time as the rest of the world, Polynesians will demonstrate their willingness to prepare for these changes by declaring [a] state of emergency climate.”

 

According to a news story last Thursday, the national government of India has changed its decision about allowing international mountaineering expeditions to climb Mt. Kanchenjunga, the world’s third highest peak and a sacred spot for the Lepcha and Bhutia peoples of Sikkim.  The government had announced back in August that the mountain would be open to climbers despite the religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim. The people had immediately protested.

Mt. Kanchenjunga in the morning sunlight
Mt. Kanchenjunga in the morning sunlight (Photo by Aaron Ostrovsky in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The Union Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) had decided in August to make a large number of mountain peaks more accessible to mountain climbers by allowing them to more easily obtain climbing permits. Their decision, however, included the mountain that is sacred to the beliefs of the Sikkim people.

The news story last week indicated that the agency had heard the protests and decided to exempt Kanchenjunga, thus making the new regulations amenable to the religious beliefs of the Lepchas and Bhutias. Kanchenjunga will once again be off limits to foreign mountain climbers. The Sikkim unit of the BJP, the ruling party in India, expressed gratitude to the agency for reversing its earlier decision.

Kunzang Gyatso, the president of the Sikkim Mountaineering Association, said mountain climbers who wish to climb Kanchenjunga can still do so from the Nepal side without offending the religious beliefs of the indigenous people. “Religion is a priority in many places and being a mountaineer, I feel that the way we challenge nature, we must also respect it,” he said. He added, “Sikkim has been built with the blessings of the mountain gods.”

He emphasized that when mountaineers have climbed Kanchenjunga on the Sikkim side, they have normally left a gap of 10 m. from the top. That pattern of almost climbing to the mountain peak was first adopted by the British mountaineers Joe Brown and George Band when they climbed the mountain sixty-four years ago. Gyatso climbed Mt. Everest in 2008.

Tseten Tashi Bhutia, Convener of the Sikkim Bhutia Lepcha Apex Committee, one of the persons noted in the August news story who was vocally appealing the government’s decision, was again quoted last week about the issue. He indicated that many peaks, rocks, caves, lakes and stupas in Sikkim are considered to be sacred. “Kanchenjunga is our God and the abode of Gods,” he said.

The Guardian sent reporter Hannah Ellis-Petersen to Kuala Koh to investigate the tragedy that nearly destroyed the Batek village. Was it just an outbreak of measles that took down so many people starting about four months ago? Are the government analyses that it was just an outbreak of measles accurate or are officials covering up deeper environmental problems that are proving deadly to the defenseless forest dwellers? The journalist teases out the questions even if she doesn’t always provide pleasant answers.

A child with a 4-day measles rash
A child with a 4-day measles rash (Photo by CDC/NIP/Barbara Rice in Wikimedia, in the public domain)

Regular readers of these news stories may recall reports on April 4 and April 18 that described a mysterious illness that was infecting the villagers. Another on June 20 described how the disease had become a deadly epidemic, killing and hospitalizing much of the village. Malaysia became alarmed, various experts were quoted, and the possible causes—rampant nearby mining, logging, water pollution—were debated. The government health authorities fixed the blame on a measles epidemic.

A news story on July 11 sought to wrap up the tragedy with discussions of the measures that the Malaysian government authorities were taking to protect the health of the Batek people. Alberto Gomes was quoted as describing the numerous underlying conditions endured by the Batek that may have contributed to the intensity of the disease.

The latest wrap-up report by The Guardian on September 7 makes it very clear that the Batek themselves still believe they suffer due to a wide range of discriminatory hazards that they must endure. The report by Ms. Ellis-Petersen is well worth careful study.

Taman Negara National Park, one of the oldest rainforests in the world
Taman Negara National Park, one of the oldest rainforests in the world (Photo by Peter Gronemann in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The final statistics are sobering: only about 20 people out of the 186 Batek living in Kuala Koh, a community at the edge of the Taman Negara National Park, were untouched by the illness. Over 100 were sent to a hospital and 15 died. Sita Keladi, a village resident, told the paper, “It was very scary for us….We did not know what was happening but people were dying around us.”

The government pledged to do a full investigation which would include autopsies of the bodies exhumed from their traditional forest burial sites but, after four months, nothing has been released. Why not, the Guardian journalist inquires, echoing the questions being posed by Orang Asli experts and the Batek themselves.

One question being asked is the relationship of the tragedy to the heartless deforestation going on around them, both for the development of palm oil plantations and for a nearby manganese mine. Johan Tahun, a 60-year-old man, complained to the reporter that their forests have been cut down, their homes destroyed, and their environment poisoned.

A Batek family
A Batek family (Photo by Malekhanif in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Ms. Ellis-Petersen writes that the Batek, much like the other Orang Asli (Original People) groups, are not respected for their indigenous knowledge and way of life. Instead, they have been relocated and integrated, supposedly, into the broader Malaysian mainstream. This makes it easier for the corporations to cut down their forests and for the government agencies to take away their resources. Palm oil plantations make more money for the people who matter.

Kuala Koh was founded in 2010 by the government, which gave them a tract of land and a half-dozen concrete house that the journalist visits. She describes them as dark and dirty with bars on the windows. They look to her like prison cells. The kids can’t go to school—the nearest one is more than 60 miles away—and with their traditional forests destroyed, the Batek are mostly illiterate and do not have much of a future.

A Batek community in Taman Negara National Park
A Batek community in Taman Negara National Park (Photo by Malekhanif in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Johan Halid from the organization Sahabat Jariah told The Guardian that the government simply doesn’t care what happens to the Batek. “Without the jungle, they have nothing, and without access to power and schools there is also no way for them to integrate into society,” he said. He alleged that when the people of Kuala Koh began dying from their illness this spring, he tried alerting the authorities and got nowhere. It was only when one of his posts on a social media website went viral that the department of health got involved and used a van to take some sick people to a hospital.

More help was needed—others urgently needed care—but the government delayed because of a national holiday. In the five days that elapsed until another rescue van was dispatched to the village, two more people had died, including a young child. Rosli Long, whose three-year old son had died in the hospital, expressed resignation to the reporter: that’s “just how things are for us.”

An oil palm plantation in Malaysia
An oil palm plantation in Malaysia (Photo by Craig in Wikimedia, in the public domain)

The Batek, as well as Orang Asli advocates, dismiss the statements that measles was the sole cause of the tragedy. They continue to blame environmental pollution, deforestation, malnutrition, and neglect as major factors in making the villagers so susceptible to the disease. They claim that the villagers are affected by the extensive quantities of pesticides used in the palm oil plantations and they are further affected by the explosives and detritus produced by the nearby manganese mine.

The journalist contacted the president of the Federation of Private Medical Practitioners’ Associations Malaysia (FPMPAM), Dr. Steven Chow, for his reactions. He says that since the Batek immune systems are already compromised from their persistent malnutrition, the harmful health effects of the manganese pollution would be magnified ten times. A visitor to the Batek communities on many occasions, he says that outside environmental factors such as pollution from the mine were at least partially responsible for the deaths. He too remarked that the promised government report about the tragedy has not yet been issued.

An FPMPAM report to the ministry of health described the Batek habitat as “a death trap,” an observation that did not surprise any of the villagers. Their only supply of drinking water comes from a small pond whose waters used to run clear. But since the manganese mine has begun operations, the drinking water now becomes cloudy from the waste generated by the nearby mining.

Batek bathing in the Tembeling River
Batek bathing in the Tembeling River (Photo by Malekhanif in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Mohammad Potok, a 42-year-old villager, tells the reporter how they watch their drinking water change colors due to the toxic mine waste whenever it rains. “But nobody cares if we are drinking poisoned water,” he says. He adds that the Batek think that the polluted water was one of the causes of the epidemic.

Dr. Chow dismisses the claims that measles was the sole cause. He expresses cynicism about the likelihood of the government ever accepting any responsibility for the tragedy. Accountability should go to the top of the government but he doubts it will do anything but seek to bury the matter. “In 20 years I would not be surprised if there is barely any of the tribe left,” he concludes.

 

My wife and I live in a clearing in a Pennsylvania forest and, like most forest dwellers, we have interesting relationships with animals and birds. Take the Carolina wren family, whose antics have puzzled and charmed us for the past six months. In April, they brought their fledglings down to our porch from their nest in an out building to introduce them to us, in May one built a false nest next to a window air conditioner, and starting in June several decided to bawl me out almost weekly when I sat on the porch reading. But I’m not ashamed of my own eccentricities: I talk back to them when their invective becomes inappropriate.

If my behavior seems eccentric when it comes to relationships with wildlife, consider some of the peaceful societies that also live in the woods. My relationships with the birds and animals that visit our house may be one of bemused tolerance, but the Batek take their interactions very seriously. They prohibit mocking behavior toward wildlife. According to Endicott and Endicott (2008), the Batek prohibition against mocking animals is enforced by the superhumans, which give force to their values.

But why do the Batek take the sensitivities of animals so seriously? An  article by ethnographer Alice Rudge published last week explains the reasons they take such a strongly negative view of laughing at animals—and why sometimes they do it anyway. Based on her fieldwork with the Batek, she points out that laughing can cause serious harm: illnesses, storms, even deaths. But at times the people get pleasure from laughing, even though it is forbidden.

A Batek child in Taman Negara National Park
A Batek child in Taman Negara National Park (Photo by Phalinn Ooi on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

She explains that to the Batek, laughing at anything you are intending to eat can be risky. You should never take the risk of laughing around fruits during the fruiting season—you could develop serious illnesses or even die as a result. Even mocking anything that is part of the fruiting season in the forest—flowers, honey, bees, other insects—is prohibited. The flowers and fruits might not appear as a result. Furthermore, laughing too loudly or too frequently might arouse the thunder spirit, who could vent furious storms on humans.

And you thought that my arguing back at the Carolina wrens is weird!

Ms. Rudge views the Batek prohibitions as a form of ethical behavior, a way for them to preserve their access to sustenance from the forest yet to show a reasonable level of respect for the non-human beings that live there also.

A frog waiting for prey in the Taman Negara National Park
A frog waiting for prey in the Taman Negara National Park (Photo by Rolfklein in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

But sometimes the Batek do not do as they should—they laugh anyway. One night, the ethnographer was sitting up with a Batek lady, Naʔ Srimjam, presumably in or near the Taman Negara National Park, when the latter heard a frog croaking. Its calls sounded just like a person breaking wind and she couldn’t help laughing. Each time she tried to stop and tell Ms. Rudge that her laughter was prohibited, the frog resumed making its farting noises and the lady couldn’t stop laughing.

Naʔ Srimjam was clearly reveling in her forbidden laughter—wrong but impossible to stop. When she recounted the story the next day, no one felt she acted badly when she related her experience and laughed some more. Ms. Rudge, who is a Junior Research Fellow at the Institute of Advanced Studies, the University College London (UCL), concludes her essay by reflecting on the relationships of the ethics of laughter in society.

She writes, “In the Batek’s egalitarian society, where no one person has systematic authority over another, individual autonomy is paramount. This focus on autonomy is why the Batek do not punish one another for inappropriate laughter, even when it is considered wrong and risks dangerous consequences for the group such as the anger of the thunder-being. Instead, people say, it’s up to ‘them on their own’.”

While other Orang Asli societies such as the Chewong and the Semai also condemn mocking or laughing at animals, not all forest-based peaceful societies have comparable views about wildlife. Colin Turnbull wrote in his book The Forest People (1961) that the Mbuti are cruel toward animals. They will mock an animal that they have just killed, and have singed the feathers off a bird while it is still alive.  Even though they rely on their hunting dogs, they still kick them around.

So whether an eccentric writer in the forest of Pennsylvania argues with the Carolina wrens on his porch, or the Mbuti treat some birds with cruelty, or the Batek condemn laughing at animals at the same time they laugh at them, Ms. Rudge argues that these behaviors all fit in with the much more complex ethical and social structures which order their lives. The study of peaceful societies is never simple.

A distressing news story five months ago in the New Era, a prominent Namibian newspaper, reported how the managers of the mortuaries that serve the Ju/’hoansi people had allowed their facilities to fall into disrepair. As a result, the people had no way to care for the remains of their deceased friends and relatives until they could be buried except to drive the bodies great distances to functioning mortuaries.

A group of Ju/’hoansi near Tsumkwe
A group of Ju/’hoansi near Tsumkwe (Photo by Tous les Bonheurs du Monde on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The Namibian, a different newspaper, reported last week that the situation has been resolved. The mortuaries in Tsumkwe and Gam, two of the important communities in the region, have both been repaired and reopened for business. Perhaps the publicity generated by the news story on April 2 (it was reviewed in this website nine days later) may have spurred the managers to fix the facilities.

The story prepared by the Namibian Press Agency last week quoted Likoro Masheshe, a resident of Tsumkwe, as saying that the mortuary in his town had been closed for five years. That caused a lot of hardship for people who had to care for the remains of the deceased due to the stress and costs of transporting bodies to the nearest functioning facilities, either in Mangetti Dune or Grootfontein. He told the reporter that the difficulty of transporting a deceased family member over gravel roads for such long distances was really upsetting.

The Otjozondjupa Region of Namibia
The Otjozondjupa Region of Namibia (Photo by mroszewski in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The Namibian reporter also spoke with Canea Kudumo, who said more or less the same thing: how hard it was to travel such a great distance to deliver a loved one’s body to a mortuary, and then shortly thereafter, to drive out and bring the body back to be put to rest. He especially thanked the governor of the Otjozondjupa region, Otto Ipinge, for his support back in April when the issue was discussed.

Samuel Shilikomwenyo, the regional health director, said that the problem at the two mortuaries had been that the cooling systems had to be repaired because they were outdated. The repairs cost N$300,000 (US$20,000).

 

On August 23, the French daily newspaper La Croix published an article about the San people who are still able to eke out a living in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR) of Botswana. The article does not identify whether the reporter is interviewing G/wi or G//ana individuals.

Lions in the Kalahari Desert of Botswana
Lions in the Kalahari Desert of Botswana (Photo by Kirsten Weeks on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Motswakgakala Gaoberekurep, squatting in his small, round traditional hut, tells the journalist about the old ways. He talks about his victories over lions that have threatened him and his family in the evenings, illustrating his points by drawing letters in the sand. He and his wife live part of the year in Metsiamanong, one of the few original San villages that the Botswana government has permitted to remain in the CKGR.

While he speaks with the reporter, his wife cleans their breakfast dishes by dipping her sponge into the ashes of their fire and using it to rub the cups clean. She then hangs them on tree branches to dry.

The news article detours to provide a bit of history of the CKGR: how it was established by the British colonial authorities in 1961 to protect the native fauna—leopards, hyenas, mongooses, and antelopes. But then the government of Botswana decided in 1997 and again in 2002 to expel the various San tribes in an effort, it claimed, to protect the native fauna. Supposedly, the government also wanted to modernize the living conditions of their San citizens. The Botswana High Court ruled in 2006 that expelling the San from the CKGR had been illegal.

La Croix skips over some of the details, only briefly describing a ruling in 2014 by the government that hunting was banned throughout the country, a move that was calculated to hurt the San with their hunting traditions. Some of them had started caring for livestock but after the 2006 court ruling, the families that had won the right to return to their villages were not permitted to have livestock.

San man showing the traditional way of getting water from a root
San man showing the traditional way of getting water from a root (Screen capture from the video “Bushmen Showing How to Get Water from a Root,” by Alan Kuehner on YouTube, Creative Commons license)

For the San living in the CKGR communities as well as for those who struggle to get by in the resettlement camps outside it, idleness often seems to be the most popular pastime. One person remembers in the old days not only not having any money but not even knowing what it was. Another comments about not having much to do to occupy the time. Food rations are distributed every month by the government. The San who live in the resettlement camps in particular have serious problems with alcoholism and depression.

Some of the San do keep busy digging up tubers of the devil’s claw plants, drying them in the sun, and selling them into the health food market. Other San are hired by luxury lodges in the CKGR to work as gardeners or as guides to demonstrate to tourists their traditional ways.

Onthusitse Tshotlego has done that sort of work in the lodges and he dreams of opening his own lodge someday. The thirty-something man takes care of about 40 family goats in Gugamma, another small San village that the government permits in the CKGR. But his real love is for the wild animals, ostriches and elands in particular.

A San man drinking water from an ostrich egg shell
A San man drinking water from an ostrich egg shell (Photo by DVL2 on Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

He brags to La Croix how his ancestors used the leg bones of ostriches to make tools and the empty shells of their eggs as containers. The earlier people used the fat from around the eland’s hearts; mixed with roots that were crushed, it was made into a lotion. He credits the use of the animal parts as an important factor in allowing people to live in the desert.

Onthusitse says he does not miss electricity; he was born without it. Some of the young San people do, however, dream of having more urban amenities, such as electric lights in the evenings. The journalist, noting the brilliance of the southern stars above, seems inclined to agree with Onthusitse.

 

An informal association of farmers along Mill Creek in Pennsylvania’s Lancaster County is promoting changes on their properties that are helping improve water quality in the stream. An article published on August 29 in the Bay Journal describes the work of the Mill Creek Preservation Association, most of whose members are Amish. It nicely supplements a different article from 2018 in the same journal that lauded other Amish in Lancaster County and their work to protect the environment.

Pastures along Mill Creek in Lancaster County
Pastures along Mill Creek in Lancaster County (Photo by Gerry Dincher in Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The seasonal newsletters from the Mill Creek association are mailed to 440 people but there are really only six working core members, five of whom are Amish.  The group has no formal membership and it collects no dues.  No government agencies run the association—it is a group of neighbors, many of whom happen to be Amish, taking action to preserve their stream.

Their tactics are quite straightforward. The active members walk along the lanes of neighbors whose farmland borders the creek. They point out to the landowners obvious erosion problems on their ground and in their streambanks; they urge them to consider measures to keep their cows out of the stream. Would they consider implementing cost-free restoration work of the stream and fencing off narrow strips of pasture or field to help protect the watershed?

An Amish dairy farm in Lancaster County where the cows are free to trample down and erode the stream banks
An Amish dairy farm in Lancaster County where the cows are free to trample down and erode the stream banks (Photo by Ad Meskens in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The group has been working at this for 15 years, making slow but steady progress. Counting only streamside projects on which the Lancaster County Conservation District has become involved, the group has helped restore 5.5 miles of Mill Creek to its pre-cow health. Mill Creek is an important tributary to the Conestoga River and ultimately to the Susquehanna River and the Chesapeake Bay.

John Smucker, the only non-Amish active member of the group and a local farmer and businessman himself, emphasized the importance of keeping government agencies peripheral to the major thrust of the association. “The government would not have been able to come in and do this. Nobody would have opened up,” he told the reporter. Many Amish have a stand-offish attitude toward government agencies. Instead, working together as community members seems to work, at least for this group in Lancaster County.

Lancaster County Amish
Lancaster County Amish (Photo by Ted Van Pelt on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The Bay Journal quoted Jeff Swinehart of the Lancaster Farmland Trust about that issue. He emphasized to the reporter that while the Amish in the county prize their isolation from the government, they are quite willing to work with their fellow farmers and neighbors with whom they worship during their church services. “They can develop that dialogue with their peers to really encourage them to make a change,” he said. “It’s a great demonstration of community conservation.”

The magazine also spoke with some of the active Amish in the group who were willing to be quoted. Henry Beiler said that he now realizes how much people downstream are affected by what he does.

Henry Esh also sees his farming differently than he used to. He allowed stream banks to be leveled so that floodwaters could more easily overflow onto the flood plain on his farm. He dreams that he may someday be able to catch trout in the newly-improved stream. He takes the temperature of the stream near tributaries fed by nearby springs in hopes that cold-water native fish may begin to survive the heat of summer.

An Amish woman and children feeding their cattle on a Lancaster County farm
An Amish woman and children feeding their cattle on a Lancaster County farm

Mr. Esh is pleased that the water in the steam is much cleaner now—it is well filtered before it reaches the creek. The improvements in the stream flowing through his farm have convinced him to join the group walking down farm lanes to talk with neighbors.

This article in the Bay Journal goes on to describe the beginnings of the group in 2004, some of its major achievements, partnership projects with other groups, grants from government agencies, educational efforts such as their annual fishing derbies, and other outreach projects.

Matt Koffroth, a watershed specialist with the Lancaster County Conservation District, summarized the worthwhile work of the Mill Creek Preservation Association.  He emphasized that they are the people who are interacting with the farmers in the creek watershed. They are the people who are contacting landowners. Their efforts allow the conservation district and other agencies to move forward with protecting the stream.

 

Quick, what is the third highest mountain in the world? Most lovers of geography trivia questions would know the highest—Everest—and the second highest—K2—but the third? The answer is a relatively lesser-known peak in the Eastern Himalayas, Mt. Kanchenjunga, located on the border of Nepal and the Indian state of Sikkim. Even less well known, unfortunately, is the fact that it is a sacred mountain to the Lepchas and some of the other people of that state.

View of Kanchenjunga from the Gangtok area of Sikkim
View of Kanchenjunga from the Gangtok area of Sikkim (Photo by proxygeek on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

And the sad news is that its sacred status has just become threatened. According to a news story in The Telegraph from Calcutta on August 22, India’s Union Home Ministry has opened a bunch of mountain peaks, including Kanchenjunga, to mountaineering expeditions.

The state government of Sikkim had banned expeditions up the sacred mountain in 2001. Previous to this recent announcement, mountain-climbing expeditions were required to go through more bureaucratic hoops from the national government to secure climbing permits, but now all it will take will be clearance from the Indian Mountaineering Foundation (IMF) for permission to climb 137 popular peaks in the Himalayas. The intent of the government is to promote more adventure sports—and, presumably, tourist rupees.

Government officials and NGOs in Sikkim reacted with shocked anger to the news. The Places of Worship Act enacted by the state legislature in 1991 spelled out the sacred nature of Kanchenjunga and the fact that it was to be protected as a place for worship. Other mountain peaks in Sikkim were also designated as sacred and protected.

Tseten Tashi Bhutia, from the Sikkim Bhutia Lepcha Apex Committee, labeled the decision to open the sacred peaks widely to climbers as “a blatant mistake.” He added that his organization feels the announcement is the result of a lack of communication between the state government and the home affairs ministry. He expects the state to pressure the ministry to reverse its decision. If the decision is not reversed, “we will decide on our course of action,” he said.

Amalia Kaploniak at the Kanchenjunga Base Camp in 1991
Amalia Kaploniak at the Kanchenjunga Base Camp in 1991 (Photo by Amalia Kaploniak in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The article in The Telegraph explains the point of view of the mountaineering community—that the new approach will open up permission by the IMF to mountain climbing, which is much more efficient than waiting for visas to be issued by the government. The President of the IMF said that his organization “can now directly give permission in a few days and this will promote adventure tourism.”

Another news story about this development last Thursday from EastMojo, a digital news website that concentrates on northeastern India, provided more details about the sacred character of Kanchenjunga.

The mountain was first climbed by a British mountaineering team in 1955. Joe Brown and George Band stopped just short of the summit itself because they had promised the ruling prince of Sikkim, an independent country at the time, that they would not set foot on the actual summit of the mountain. Climbing parties and individual climbers since then have followed that tradition, all ending their climbing just before reaching the summit as a way of showing respect for the religious beliefs held by the Lepchas and the Bhutias.

The Ralang Monastery in Sikkim is the location of an annual festival celebrating Mt. Kanchenjunga
The Ralang Monastery in Sikkim is the location of an annual festival celebrating Mt. Kanchenjunga (Photo by devadeth 1008 in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

These people worship the mountain—it’s their guardian deity. They believe that the mountain god was actively involved in introducing Buddhism into Sikkim. The festival known as “Pang Lhabsol” is celebrated at the Ralang Monastery in Sikkim as a way of seeking the mountain god’s continued protection.

The festival is celebrated in late August or early September every year. It commemorates the eternal peace and brotherhood sworn between the Lepchas and the Bhutias in the 15th century at Kabi, in Sikkim, beliefs that are cherished by Kanchenjunga.

 

A remote community of 23 Kadar families has been forced to abandon their traditional huts due to a landslide on August 11, but they are determined to remain in the forest anyway. On the other hand, the Forest Department does not want them to rebuild anywhere else in the mountains that they have lived in for generations.

A towering crest of the Anamalai Hills in southwestern Tamil Nadu
A towering crest of the Anamalai Hills in southwestern Tamil Nadu (Photo by Marcus334 in Wikipedia, Creative Commons license)

The hassles for the Kadar community, located in the Anamalai Tiger Reserve in southwestern Tamil Nadu, began during torrential rains during the night of August 11. After the landslide destroyed their bamboo and dried grass huts, the 100 individuals living in the Kallar Kadar tribal settlement decided to move, still in the forest, to a nearby area that is more level, where they erected new huts. They are determined to remain in their familiar forest environment. If they can.

The Kallar Kadar settlement is located within the Manombolly forest range of the tiger reserve. The residents walk about six km through dense forest to reach Thaimudi, the nearest settlement outside the reserve. The town of Valpari is 25 km away.

The Forest Department, determined that they will not remain in their new location, asked them to leave. In the first of two news stories about the controversy, The Hindu reported that the affected Kadar are determined to continue to live in their traditional forest dwellings. “Our forefathers lived here inside the forest. We do not want to be relocated from the forest where we are accustomed to all conditions,” exclaimed Sivasankarai, one of the Kadar.

A young mother, Rajalakshmi, was even more emphatic in her comments to the reporter. “We moved to the new place only because the settlement was damaged in landslip. Those moved to the new huts include children, elders and pregnant women. We are not causing any harm to the wildlife. We will not be able to survive if shifted to any other place outside forest,” she told The Hindu.

S. P. Velumani, Minister of Municipal Administration and Rural Development for Tamil Nadu
S. P. Velumani, Minister of Municipal Administration and Rural Development for Tamil Nadu (Photo by Durai.velupani in Wikipedia, Creative Commons license)

The Kadar said that some representatives of their community had approached S.P. Velumani, the Minister for Municipal Administration for Tamil Nadu, on August 17. They submitted a petition to the official to be allowed to relocate to the new location in the forest and they had received his oral approval.

S. Thanraj, a tribal rights activist who had visited the Kadar community, told the reporter that despite that oral approval, no official order has come through. He said that the people in the new settlement had not eaten properly in over a week.

The paper also spoke with an official from the tiger reserve. He said that the government has set up a relief fund for the families affected by the landslide. However, the official added, the Kadar had refused an offer of land near the town of Valpari. They insist on staying in the forest.

The Anamalai Tiger Reserve
The Anamalai Tiger Reserve (Photo by Jaseem Hamza in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The Hindu continued its coverage of developments the next day, August 20. The headline stated that the 23 families had in fact been moved, supposedly temporarily, to vacant buildings outside the forest that day and the temporary huts built by the Kadar in the forest were removed by the police and staff from the Forest Department.

About 90 Kadar, including pregnant women, children, and elderly people, were now housed in some unused quarters on a tea estate near Thaimudi. A tribal representative said that they had decided to obey the government’s orders.

An elderly Kadar woman in 1909
An elderly Kadar woman in 1909 (Image from Edgar Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, 1909, vol. 3, p. 9, in Wikimedia, in the public domain)

But the effects on the Kadar of the move were dramatic, particularly since some of them, especially the elderly women, have almost never been outside the forest environment. Their huts in the forest are the only homes they have known. Thanraj said that a 70-year-old woman named Saroja fainted when she saw the police and forest staff members coming to move them on the 19th.

The news report explains that the provisions of the Forest Rights Act of 2006 have not been implemented in Tamil Nadu the same as they have been in Kerala on the western side of the Western Ghats mountain range. Kadar living in Kerala are protected by being listed as a Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group, which gives them the rights to their traditional forest lands. Although the lands of the Kadar in Tamil Nadu have been surveyed, the people have not been granted titles by that state.

The District Collector, an elected administrator for the district, was planning to attend a meeting with the Kadar in Valparai on August 28 to discuss their issues.

Kadar huts
Kadar huts (Image from L.K. Anantha Krishna Iyer, Cochin Tribes and Castes, 1909, vol. 1, p.3, in the public domain)

The two news reports in The Hindu last week do not indicate whether this Kadar community is fully aware of the progress that their relatives to the west in Kerala have made in recent years, though it is safe to guess that they probably are. And perhaps they are inspired by the leadership and determination of the Kadar in Kerala to retain their rights—and their huts in the forests.

Almost all of the 45 news stories published in this website about the Kadar over the past 14 years have focused on their struggles to secure their rights to their forests in Kerala. An important theme in the early reports was the opposition by the Kadar in some villages along the Chalakkudy River to a proposed dam that would destroy their communities if it were ever to be built.

Their love for their forests came through very clearly in the various news stories published in India, which attracted the attention of some researchers who began employing these tribal people as research assistants because they are so familiar with the plants and wildlife of the Kerala mountains.

Their fame spread so much that a selected group of them got to meet Britain’s Prince Charles in 2013 and discuss with him their forest resources when he traveled up the Chalakkudy River as far as the Vazhachal Forest Reserve. The Vazhachal and, near it, the Parambikulam Tiger Reserve , are on the western side of the Western Ghats mountain range to the west of the Anamalai Tiger Reserve in Tamil Nadu that was featured in the news reports last week.

It will be fascinating to see if the Kadar in Tamil Nadu can fare as well as the ones in Kerala have. From the two Hindu reports, they appear to be determined to get what they want as soon as possible: secure lives in the forest.