The Nubian people living in the Nile Valley of northern Sudan are as determined as ever to prevent the construction of two huge hydroelectric dams across the river that would destroy their homes. They don’t want to make the mistake the Nubians in the Aswan area of southern Egypt made in the 1960s by giving in to projects that will destroy their communities and force them to be relocated to new homes in the desert.

A Nubian girl in Sudan
A Nubian girl in Sudan (Photo by Christopher Michel on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

A news story last week by a radio station in Sudan reported that the Sudanese Youth Committee against the Kajbar and Dal Dams has reiterated its demands that the national government investigate the deadly shooting of protesters by security forces in 2007. Nubians had been peacefully protesting the Kajbar Dam when the tragedy occurred. At that shooting, four protesters were killed and about 20 people were seriously injured. The Dal Dam is proposed for the Second Cataract of the Nile and the Kajbar Dam for the Third. Both dams would create vast reservoirs that would submerge the homes of many thousands of Nubians.

The Nubians were using the 11th anniversary of the 2007 massacre to capture some attention from the media. Mohamed Salah, Chairman of the Youth Committee, said that the government in Khartoum is procrastinating by delaying “the prosecution of the criminals, who shot with live bullets on peaceful protesters.” He said that the committee is arranging events to commemorate the Kajbar tragedy in the next few days.

Nubians protest the Kajbar dam in Sudan (International Rivers photo, Creative Commons license)

Last week’s article reviewed the protests of the past several years, particularly the events of November 2015 when the Nubians erupted over the news that the King of Saudi Arabia had agreed to finance the construction of the two dams.  A group called the Association of Nubians, based in northern Sudan, claimed that constructing the two dams would destroy 7,000 years of Nubian civilization. As Salah told the reporter, “the Nubians in northern Sudan will continue to oppose the construction of the dams because of its dangerous environmental consequences.” He added a rhetorical flourish: “We will build a dam to stop the attempts to build the dams.”

The First Vice-President of Sudan, Bakri Hasan Saleh, has said that construction of the two dams will begin next year but Salah, from the Youth Committee, downplayed the threat. He said that the government has issued such threats before and has not actually begun the construction work. But the committee is seriously opposed to the plan. During a public event on November 11, 2015, at the University of Khartoum, members of the committee spoke passionately about their opposition. “The dams will only be constructed on our dead bodies,” they were quoted as stating at the time.

An anti-dam protest in Khartoum in 2016
An anti-dam protest in Khartoum in 2016 (International River photo, Creative Commons license)

On February 17, 2016, protests again erupted in Khartoum over the signing of the intergovernmental agreement to construct the two dams. Security troops forcefully disbursed a crowd of protesters. A protester at the time told a reporter that the police “were extremely violent” in their actions.

The Kajbar Dam alone, if built at the third cataract as proposed, would create a reservoir of about 110 square km, generate 360 megawatts of electricity, displace over 10,000 people from their communities, and destroy around 500 archaeological sites.

 

The fascination in reading about minority peaceful societies is enhanced when writers report on really obscure, rarely visited, corners of their territories. Prem Khatry wrote last week about his visit to some Lepcha communities in eastern Nepal, near the border with Sikkim. The story was unique because, while the Lepchas of Sikkim and of the northern hills of West Bengal in India frequently appear in the news, the smaller Lepcha communities across the borders in Nepal to the west of Sikkim and in Bhutan to the east are rarely mentioned in the English-language press.

A tea garden in the hills of the Ilam District of Nepal (Photo by Saroj Pandey in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
A tea garden in the hills of the Ilam District of Nepal (Photo by Saroj Pandey in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)(Photo by Saroj Pandey in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Accompanied by a team from the Culture Division of the Nepalese Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Civil Aviation, Prem traveled to the town of Rong, in the Ilam District of eastern Nepal, searching for evidence of the original Lepcha culture in that section of the country. The group was particularly looking for their intangible culture and for their interest in their own history. Their journey was part of a broader effort by the Ministry of Culture to visit a number of the minority groups in Nepal in order to help them record, document, and safeguard their own cultures.

The trip began with a visit to the Rong Village Council. The council, and especially its chief, Shamsher Rai, welcomed the visiting delegation warmly. The author noted that the chief of the village was actually a member of a different tribal group, the Kirati-Rai, and some of the ward chiefs were also not of Lepcha/Rong ancestry. The Rong village council represented an ethnic mix of societies.

A Lepcha girl selling nuts at a street market in Darjeeling in 1928
A Lepcha girl selling nuts at a street market in Darjeeling in 1928 (Photographer unknown in Wikimedia, in the public domain)

The officials and the rest of the council were present, along with a crowd of about 50 others, to warmly welcome the visitors on a misty, cloudy day. Shamsher Rai and a deputy, Surya Rai, told the visitors that the Village Council had just finished the draft of a 10-year plan for preserving the local Lepcha culture. Their plan had been forwarded to the ministry in Kathmandu where experts were at the moment reviewing it.

While the council was composed of both Lepcha and non-Lepcha individuals, the village had demonstrated its commitment to the ancient Lepcha culture by the name chosen for the village: “Rong” is the original Lepcha name for themselves. The document they had drafted focused on the preservation of the Lepcha culture and language.

A Lepcha manuscript showing the Lepcha script
A Lepcha manuscript showing the Lepcha script (Photo by hceebee on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

A local man named Dawa Lepcha spoke up to complain that there needed to be a way to preserve an ancient monastery and some very old religious texts. Their loss, which is imminent, will be a severe blow to preserving the ancient culture, he argued. The visitors quickly made note of his point and assured him that they would report his concerns to the Department of Archaeology when they returned to Kathmandu. They pointed out that the district government also should become involved in the matter.

Prem wrote that this was just a preliminary visit and he anticipates making additional reports.

 

Ms. Geetha, the leader of the Kadar community at Vazhachal, never seems to be at a loss for words. In an interview with The New Indian Express two weeks ago, she says, “We used to preserve the forests. That was how we lived. Now the government owns the forests.” She goes on to lament that the Kadar seem to have become the property of the government.

Wild gaur at the Parambikulam wildlife sanctuary
Wild gaur at the Parambikulam wildlife sanctuary (Photo by Viki.red on Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

According to the reporter, Anna Binoy, Ms. Geetha is one of only two tribal village leaders in Kerala who are women. The “ooru moopathi,” as she is titled, tells Ms. Binoy the history of her community—of repeated injustices and marginalization. She says that her people were originally from Parambikulam, where they subsisted on the forest products they gathered. The reporter does not mention that Parambikulam is now a world-famous tiger reserve and wildlife sanctuary. Ms. Geetha does say that her people were forced out of their homes when the dominating peoples of Kerala decided to develop the forests and the Chalakudy River they lived along.

They moved to Peringalkuth, also located on the Chalakudy, but due to the construction of a hydroelectric dam they were soon forced to move again, downstream, to settle in another forest at Vazhachal, where the river still flowed freely. But their new village was again threatened by another dam. Their decision to contest being once again forced out of their homes has been well-reported in the news over the past dozen years. Ms. Geetha has been the leader of this last-ditch stand.

The forests of the Kadar surround the famed Athirappilly Waterfalls on the Chalakudy River
The forests of the Kadar surround the famed Athirappilly Waterfalls on the Chalakudy River (Photo by kevinsiji on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

She discusses with the reporter the environmental impact assessment that didn’t even acknowledge the existence of the Kadar village located near the site of the proposed Athirappilly dam on the Chalakudy. She says that although the community was able to prove in court that the developers were wrong, “it saddened me deeply. I have since come to [realize] that there are exterior forces trying to eradicate my people.”

The Vazhachal community now consists of 69 houses containing 74 families who still do some fishing and gathering of forest products to supplement their incomes from their employment around Vazhachal as forest workers. A few of the people still cross the river and gain most of their subsistence from the products they gather in the forest. Ms. Geetha regrets that the Kadar of Vazhachal do not have titles to any lands of their own, though they do have the rights to use the forest.

Ms. Geetha at the river that she is trying to protect
Ms. Geetha at the river that she is trying to protect (Photo by Parineeta Dandekar on SANDRP website, Creative Commons license)

The reporter writes that the 30-year-old leader is preparing the history of her community for an upcoming book, but in the meanwhile, readers can access at least part of the early history of the community—their lives in Parambikulam—in a classic ethnography by Ehrenfels (1952). The Austrian anthropologist, who was doing his fieldwork in the community in the 1940s while the Kadar still lived there, recorded an interesting incident that illustrates the peaceful way the people resolve their conflicts.

It seems as if one evening a fight broke out in Parambikulam between a woman named Velakkal and her husband, Tambi. She was sitting outside a house in the community making a lot of noise, loudly berating her husband. Everyone in the village could hear what she was complaining about. His crime, in her view, was that he had bought his two daughters from a previous marriage very nice presents: a European blouse for Kartiyayani and a piece of jewelry for Nallatangal. But he had only gotten a red chain for Matha, his daughter by Velakkal. In her view, the present he had gotten for his youngest was worthless. She berated him for over an hour, also accusing him of having an affair with another woman.

Tambi listened to all of this quietly, patiently denying her accusations. Finally, he suggested it was time to go to bed, which everyone did. In the morning, Velakkal was gone, but she had left word that she would be divorcing him for all of his faults. The real issue, Ehrenfels wrote in his book, was that circumstances had forced Tambi’s two older girls—divorced women themselves—to move in with their father and stepmother. But to make matters worse, the husbands of the two daughters had remarried the women and had recently moved in with Tambi and Velakkal.

The anthropologist made it clear that public opinion in Parambikulam was divided between those who supported the wife and her perceptions of being treated unfairly and those who supported the husband. A week after she had stormed away, Velakkal returned to the village and quietly moved back in with her husband and his extended family. The evening filled with anger of the week before was soon forgotten. But the Kadar retained their tradition of solving a conflict as Velikkal had done—by walking away from it.

Hopefully, Ms. Geetha’s book will discuss the ways the Kadar retain their peaceful traditions as carefully as it will probably discuss their growing involvement with working in the forests of Kerala. And contesting those who seek to destroy their community once again.

Five years ago, the Pennsylvania environmental media highlighted the path-breaking efforts of a Lancaster County Amish farmer to protect his soils and the streams near his property from erosion and pollution.

A cow in a stream on an Amish farm in Orange County, Indiana
A cow in a stream on an Amish farm in Orange County, Indiana (Photo by Cindy Cornett Seigle on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The efforts of farmer Raymond King to retard soil erosion, plant in contours, and, more than that, to adopt advanced techniques for protecting the environment were reported in a Peaceful Societies news story that year. Assisted by the Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF) and other organizations, Mr. King developed better ways of handling manure in his barnyard, planted trees and shrubs along a stream, and erected fencing to keep his cattle out of that stream.

Recently, Mr. King and his Amish farming neighbors were featured again, this time in a cover story of the Bay Journal, a monthly magazine that reports news about the Chesapeake Bay and the surrounding watershed. The bay is the largest estuary on the east coast of the U.S. Organizations such as the CBF are dedicated, in part, to promoting sensible land management practices in the watershed. The rich agricultural farmland of Lancaster County—and in fact much of Central Pennsylvania—is drained by the Susquehanna River and its tributaries, the major river system that empties into the bay.

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 (Photo by Rlevse on Wikimedia, in the public domain)

The recent article written by Donna Morelli sets the scene: a small, unnamed stream flows out of some hills in northeastern Lancaster County and into the pastures of Amish farmers Benuel Zook and then Raymond King. In 2012 the stream ran with mud and manure from hundreds of cows trampling down the stream banks but now, thanks to King and his Amish neighbors, the stream is fenced and the stream banks are covered with trees and shrubs.

Mr. King’s leadoff comments to the reporter, however, attempt to deflect credit away from himself. “Look at my neighbors, they’re the heroes,” King said. “I’m not ahead of anybody.” One of the salient features of the Amish culture, along with numerous other peaceful societies, is to avoid calling attention to oneself, to avoid anything remotely resembling bragging that could lead to envy, jealousy, and possibly violence. The Amish avoidance of being photographed is part of that prohibition. Mr. King clearly didn’t want full credit given to himself—but he was enthusiastic enough about protecting the soil and the water to cooperate with another reporter.

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)

He points out that the five Amish farms along the tiny stream all used CREP money, funds from the Conservation Reserve Enhancement Program of the U.S. government that help farmers install streamside protection measures such as vegetative filtering buffers along streams. Ms. Morelli indicates, however, that not all Amish farmers are willing to cooperate with the government, so the CBF and other NGOs have also gotten involved in supplying advice and money in lieu of the government agencies.

In fact, the article indicates, while some of the Amish and Mennonite farmers remain leery of accepting aid or information from government agencies or anybody else, others are cooperating with the NGOs and still others are acting on their own. But the important development is that the situation regarding pollution and agricultural runoff in the county is improving. The Plain Sect farmers are becoming more environmentally conscious.

A Lancaster County dairy farm with a buffered, protected stream
A Lancaster County dairy farm with a buffered, protected stream (Photo by Brubaker Farms on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

According to Christopher Thompson, Manager of the Lancaster County Conservation District, the farmers are under pressure to write farm management plans to help them define their pollution problems and to describe the solutions they will install. Increasingly, the Plain Sect farmers are accepting the financial assistance available to deal with the problems they are causing. And, Mr. Thomson adds, a lot of credit should go to leaders in the Amish community, people such as Mr. King and his neighbor Mr. Zook.

He tells the reporter that it was Mr. Zook who first installed a manure storage system on his dairy farm with assistance from the Natural Resources Conservation Service. His neighbor Mr. King liked the way it operated so he worked with the same agency plus the county conservation district to install a manure storage system on his farm as well.

King then opened his farm to the CBF and to agricultural service agencies so they could begin offering workshops about the matter to other county farmers. The CBF took both neighbors on a boat tour of the Chesapeake Bay so they could observe fishing boats pulling in fish in their nets. “These are all working people,” King said speaking about the fishermen. “We really need to do a better job.”

Ms. Morelli goes on to describe at length the progress in other areas of Lancaster County and the slow but steady acceptance of the need for individuals, particularly the Plain Sect farmers, to make a difference in protecting the bay—and the earth.

 

The Lepchas are still as committed as they’ve ever been to the completion of their Stairway to Heaven reconstruction project in Daramdin, West Sikkim, and its neighboring Lepcha Heritage Center. According to a news story last week, they have been protesting once again the delays in the project—due to corruption they charge.

A Lepcha man
A Lepcha man (Photo by Ernst Schäfer in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The Stairway to Heaven is a Lepcha myth about a tall tower that their ancestors tried to build out of ceramic blocks in order to reach the sky. However, the story goes, when the people working at the top got the idea of using a hook to pull down the sky to them, tragedy ensued. They passed their request for a hook down the line of workers to the crews on the ground but the message got corrupted on the way down—they appeared to be requesting the destruction of the base of the tower. When the workers at the base obeyed what they thought was the request, the entire tower collapsed. The survivors fled into many places speaking different languages, much like the Tower of Babel story in Genesis.

Over the years, pieces of ceramic blocks have been found in the Daramdin area so tourism promoters conceived the idea of reconstructing a tower in the community with an adjoining Lepcha cultural center. Attract tourism money to West Sikkim. The project was proposed by the Sikkim state government in 1995 but got nowhere. Money for the construction was a problem. The project was revived in 2010, failed, and revived once more in 2014. Officials indicated in 2017 that the construction was underway, but the news story last week repeated the refrain, that the project has stalled once again. After 23 years, the Lepchas are still awaiting their cultural center and symbolic tower.

A Lepcha woman
A Lepcha woman (Photo by the International Institute for Environment and Development on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The Sikkim Indigenous Tribal Association (SITA) filed a Right to Information application, as allowed by Indian law, and learned, from the state government’s reply, that the contractor that had been working on the project had filed a bill for rs. 4,350,000 and for an advance of rs. 22,000,000 but the construction is still not complete. The project has been re-assigned to another contractor.

The President of SITA, Mangalmit Lepcha, attributed the fiasco to corruption, considering it has  been delayed for over 22 years. He said bitterly, “this has hurt our sentiments and of all the Lepchas at large. We feel humiliated.” Members of the association are asking their representatives in the state legislature for their support.

 

Peaceful Semai protests about a dam construction project that has caused destruction in their communities appear to be helping their cause. The Orang Asli people living along the Geruntum River in the town of Gopeng, in Malaysia’s Perak State, received a lot of news coverage when the contractors destroyed their crops plus some of their graves and polluted their drinking water. They started getting media attention in mid-February when hundreds of them gathered at the dam site to launch their protests. Then they took the state and national governments to court in early May. Two more Malaysian news reports last week have provided up-to-date information.

A Semai man in Kampung Asli Rening, in the Cameron Highlands
A Semai man in Kampung Asli Rening, in the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia (Photo by tian yake on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

A report published on June 6 indicated that the Semai in the affected communities are heartened by the change of government, from the Barisan Nasional party, which had ruled for 60 years, to the new government of the Pakatan Harapan. The BN was overwhelmed by the PH in national elections held on May 9. A resident of one of the kampungs affected by the dam told the reporter last week that they will continue protesting until the dam project is shelved, and that “now our fate is in the hands of the Pakatan Harapan government.”

The President of the environmental NGO Pertubuhan Pelindung Khazanah Alam Malaysia (Peka), Sajeeda Muhammad, expressed strong support for the Semai position, arguing that the previous government did not properly review development projects such as the controversial dam. Sajeeda conveyed the hope that the new state government would not hide its plans from the villagers—and that it would allow the Semai to keep their traditional lands.

Some Semai houses in Kampung Asli Rening
Some Semai houses in Kampung Asli Rening (Photo by tian yake on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Sandrea Ng, a legislator, urged the state government to start reviewing development projects with Orang Asli communities when they would be affected. The PH had promised in its election campaigning to respect the customary lands, cemeteries, and properties used for food production by the Orang Asli. “This project has attracted protests from the Orang Asli and environmental concerns, so it should be reviewed to make sure no party is exploited,” she told the reporter.

She added that a meeting had been scheduled for the next day with representatives of the government, the Semai villagers, environmental groups, and the corporate contractors. She told the reporter she hoped the meeting would provide some solutions.

The center of Ipoh
The center of Ipoh (Photo by Adiyon84 on Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

It did. A news report the next day, June 7, said that the government announced it was backing down—the dam construction was being put on hold until further studies could be completed. After a meeting in Ipoh, the state capital, with many of the stakeholders in the drama of the Semai versus the dam builders present, the chair of the meeting held a press conference to announce the government’s decisions. Mr. A. Sivanesan, an official in the state government, told the press that he had instructed personnel in the Department of Environment to submit reports to him by the end of the month about the project proposal. After that, another meeting will be scheduled to decide the fate of the hydroelectric power dam. He emphasized that the state wishes to be fair to all the involved parties.

During the meeting that day, it became clear that some of the guidelines of the Department of Environment had not been properly followed. Representatives of the Drainage and Irrigation Department admitted that the contractor had polluted the river during the earlier construction period because they did not properly follow the erosion and sedimentation control plan. Mr. Sivanesan chastised the government agencies for not monitoring the project more closely, which could have reduced the negative impacts of the construction.

However, he went on to justify one more time the merits of the proposed dam in terms that would be familiar to many American readers. “The project actually benefits the Orang Asli as they will be given jobs on site,” he said. He urged the members of the press attending the briefing to not forget that the proposal has its merits.

The High Court of Perak in Ipoh
The High Court of Perak in Ipoh (Photo by Miss Prema Darshini in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Sivanesan mentioned the suit currently pending in the Perak High Court. He indicated that lawyers from both sides will be telling the court that they are trying to reach an amicable settlement of the matter. He added that the contractor has agreed to compensate the villagers for the destruction they have caused, though no amounts have been mentioned yet. An MP from Gopeng who also attended the meeting indicated that the new PH government in the state would continue taking financial responsibility for the decisions made during the previous BN government.

Sivanesan concluded that, while the Semai clearly want the project to be cancelled, the state must examine the financial ramifications and reach its own decision. In the event the decision is to go ahead with the dam, the villagers hope that at least the project will be more carefully monitored in order to reduce the impact of the work.

 

The sea around the coast of Labrador is warming rapidly and the loss of winter ice threatens the culture and way of life of the Inuit in Rigolet. According to a report in The Guardian last week, Rigolet, located on the north shore of the Hamilton Inlet, is the southernmost Inuit village in Canada.

Is the polar bear sniffing for human scents?
Is the polar bear sniffing for human scents? (Photo by Anita Ritenour on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The immediate concern among the residents of Rigolet is that many of them still derive a fair amount of their food from the land and the sea. They harvest and store berries picked in season as well as fish and game, and they are allowed to hunt two polar bears per year. Their skills in getting those traditional foods are becoming irrelevant as travel, particularly in winter, becomes increasingly difficult. They store their foods in community freezers to share with the elderly and others who cannot get out to hunt and gather for themselves. But when they are cut off from their traditional hunting, gathering, and fishing areas, the Inuit have to rely on expensive processed foods.

Robert Way, a climate scientist based in Labrador, said that extreme variations in weather patterns are having the effect of masking long-term, serious climate changes that are occurring. Winter is now six weeks shorter, he said, and the extent of the sea ice during the winter months is roughly one-third less than what it was even 10 years ago. “If you look at the rate of warming from the late 1980s to 2015, this is one of the fastest warming places in the world. It’s quite concerning,” he said.

The south coast of Labrador, April 15, 2007
The south coast of Labrador, April 15, 2007 (Photo by Phyllis Harris in Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Since there is no through road along this section of the coast of Labrador, the Inuit of Rigolet have to rely on travel over the water—and over the ice in winter—for access to the outside world. But when, for months at a time, ice conditions are fragile or virtually nonexistent, they are cut off from supplies and food.

Derrick Pottle, an Inuit hunter and trapper in Rigolet, told The Guardian that his ancestors have no memory or tradition of winter changes such as they are seeing now, with shrinking or absent ice. “You can’t travel safely any more. Up and down the coast, it’s the same thing. And it’s changing right before our eyes,” he said.

Black flies attacking a canoe expedition in July 2015 in the Canadian Arctic, at Dubawnt River, Nunavut
Black flies attacking a canoe expedition in July 2015 in the Canadian Arctic, at Dubawnt River, Nunavut (Photo by Nicolas Perrault in Wikimedia, Creative Commons public domain license)

The tormenting clouds of black flies that the Arctic lands are famous for also appear to be getting worse. An employee of the government of Nunatsiavut, Paula McLean Sheppard, said that she confronted a massive cloud of the insects last summer that was so thick she had to turn on her windshield wipers in order to see out. She said the black fly plague used to start by the end of June but now they are out in force in May. She told the reporter that this most recent winter, the bay was not covered with ice until February, months later than normal. The people of Rigolet feel trapped, she said, because they can’t get out to hunt and gather their food. They have a definite need for strong, solid ice to connect them with others.

The impact of these changes is much worse than just cosmetic concerns that could easily be met, according to Ashlee Cunsolo, Director of the Labrador Institute in Happy Valley-Goose Bay. The land is essential to the Inuit and getting out on it is a vital part of their makeup. She said that being unable to get out as their ancestors have done is culturally devastating for them. Social workers and researchers such as Cunsolo believe it is fostering feelings of anxiety, grief, and depression and leading to destructive tendencies such as alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicides.

A fur trader in Rigolet in 1911
A fur trader in Rigolet in 1911 (Photo from Emil Brass, Aus dem Reiche der Pelze; in the public domain)

According to Jack Shiwak, the mayor of Rigolet, the unpredictable nature of the weather is causing people to delay and cancel their regular trips to their cabins in the remote forests. They used to visit them regularly to trap fur animals, another one of their traditions dating back to the commercial fur-trading era. But despite the fact that they used to visit their cabin almost weekly, Shiwak said they’ve not been able to go in the past two years. Inez Shiwak, his daughter, said that getting out of the village onto the land is comparable to a baby taking her first breath of air.

Martin Shiwak, out on the precarious ice with his eight-year old son Dane on their snowmobile, told the reporter as he unzipped his coat that this has been the mildest March in memory. He said he is starting to lose touch with the land, however. This is the first winter that he has not been able to cross a frozen Lake Melville, part of the Hamilton Inlet estuary, to go trapping. It was also the first winter that he was unable to schedule an educational program for the young Inuit, when he would take them out on the ice and show them their traditional winter practices.

Although the reporter got to witness Dane shooting a couple partridges from their snowmobile, Martin worried about the conditions that the boy will face when he grows up. He will have to learn new ways of living with the land.

 

The Hutterites in rural north central Montana like to give back to their fellow human beings by donating blood at the local American Red Cross blood drives held regularly in their region. According to a story in the Great Falls Tribune last week, their contributions during the blood drives often make up a sizeable portion of the donations.

Downtown Choteau, Montana
Downtown Choteau, Montana (Photo by J. Stephen Conn on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The reporter, Kristen Inbody, recently interviewed people at the blood drive in the town of Choteau, 45 miles northwest of Great Falls, including Ben Wipf from the Miller Colony near Bynum. Wipf admitted he hates being stuck by a needle, but he just gets it out of his head and does it anyway. He told her that he goes to the blood drive center whenever he has the chance. Why? Because he simply wants to help, either the local community or anywhere else in the world. “We feel if we’re able to give blood, for the kindness of our country and our fellow citizens, that we should give freely,” he said.

Sometimes the members of the colonies need blood themselves. The day before the Choteau blood drive, a serious accident occurred at the New Rockport Colony. A chain snapped while colony members were attempting to free a tractor from some mud, severing an arm of a young Hutterite. The next day, colony members, including George Hofer, were donating blood as they usually do at Choteau.

A sticker from the American Red Cross
A sticker from the American Red Cross (Photo by Arienne McCracken on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The reporter spoke with Hofer. He said his father had always encouraged colony members to give blood. It is something you just do if you’re healthy. Later, Mr. Hofer Sr. would be given 13 or 14 pints of blood himself after a pickup truck overturned onto him, though he was crushed and died anyway. George Hofer said he never forgets the lesson—he has so far donated 15.5 gallons of blood.

Another person from New Rockport, Rebecca Waldner, earned a pin the day the reporter was there in Choteau for reaching four gallons of donated blood. She said she had started donating at age 16, as many young Hutterites do. “I like to help out and save lives,” she said. “It makes me feel good.” She added that she felt especially compelled to give that day, considering the accident at the colony the previous day.

The Tribune reporter wrote that five different colonies give blood at Choteau, their donations making up 48 percent of all donors at the last three drives in that town. The statistics she provided for Hutterite contributions at other blood drives in rural Montana are nearly as impressive. Scott Shanahan, the blood donor recruiter in Great Falls, had nothing but praise for the Hutterites. He said that their contributions represent a large part of the donations in the whole state of Montana.

 

The St. Robert’s High School in Hazaribagh has enrolled 24 Birhor children in a program sponsored by Tata Steel to provide free schooling to youngsters who show a strong interest and aptitude for education. The company covers all the costs of the residential education, such as fees, room and board, so the young Birhor can attend school in India’s Jharkhand state.

According to a news report in the Daily Pioneer on May 15, the Tata Steel Rural Development Society, a branch of the main Tata Steel Company, arranged a day-long health camp at the school for all the students in attendance. The services of doctors were provided free of charge, along with free medicines when needed. In the course of the day, Tata Steel executives visited the school and interacted with the 24 Birhor children. Officials from the company gave the students backpacks, t-shirts, mosquito nets, and other such gifts.

The Chief of Operations of Tata Steel West Bokaro, Mr. Sahabji Kuchroo, said that the program was designed to create “enthusiasm among the children towards education.” He said the company plans to expand the program by adding 11 more Birhor children to the school. He added that providing the opportunity to get a high quality education can help the young Birhor become more self-reliant. After the speeches, the officials and the Birhor children sat together at a feast and discussed the journey the young people were undertaking.

Birhor woman with children
Birhor woman with children (Screen capture from the video “Birhor—a Tribe Displaced for Nothing” by VideoVolunteers on YouTube, Creative Commons license)

The Daily Pioneer published a second news story three days later about a similar program for Birhor children at the Bokaro Steel plant at Bokaro, which is also in Jharkhand state. The 15 children in that program had just left the city to return to their home villages for a summer vacation lasting until June 11. Those children all come from the Gomia Block of the Bokaro District of Jharkhand. Much like the program run by Tata Steel, the Bokaro plant covers all costs for the kids.

The corporate social responsibility program of Bokaro Steel and its attempts to educate Birhor children have been well reported by the press in India over the past decade. While the current reports in the Daily Pioneer are brief, it is good to learn that the huge industrial conglomerates in Jharkhand continue their outreach to the Birhor communities. The most recent Daily Pioneer story indicates that some of the Birhor educated at Bokaro Steel a decade ago are now computer-savvy adults who can communicate in English.

 

The Siachen River has been acting very strangely over the past 20 years, threatening the 28 villages in the Nubra Valley of Ladakh that it flows through. The cause of its erratic behavior is global climate change. According to an article in Al Jazeera last week, the rapid melting of the Siachen Glacier is causing higher than normal and very erratic river conditions, which threaten the lives of thousands of people living in the valley below. Out of the 28 villages in the valley, 23 are on the river banks.

The village of Turtuk on the Shyok River, part of the Siachen River system
The village of Turtuk on the Shyok River, part of the Siachen River system (Photo by Saurabh Chatterjee on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Nordan Otzer, Director of the Ladakh Ecological Development and Environmental Group, told Al Jazeera that over 20,000 Ladakhi living in 20 riverside communities are threatened by the river flooding their buildings and destroying their fields. Half of those villages are “at extreme risk” of severe flooding. The Shyok River, which also drains the Siachen Glacier, is part of the Nubra Valley river system.

Zangpo, a resident of Kuri, a village in the valley, told the reporter that the river, which is also called the Nubra River, has become unpredictable. He complained that the river grows wilder in the summer, washing away their cattle. If they move their animals to higher pastures, they are killed by the snow leopards. Another villager in Kuri said that 10 years ago they had around 300 cattle, but now they only have 130.

The Siachen Glacier
The Siachen Glacier (Photo by S8isfi in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

One of the theories held by locals is that the erratic behavior of the river is caused by the fact that the Indian Army has campsites on the glacier itself, which is strategically located at the end of the Line of Control with Pakistan and has been contested by the armies of both countries for more than 30 years. Experts disagree: the problems with the river, the variations in the flow of water, are basically caused by the warming temperatures. Sudden cloudbursts increase the variations in the flows of river water.

At Kuri, engineers designed and built a stone wall in 2014 in an attempt to protect the village from river floods, but one engineer expressed the opinion that it will not help much longer—the river will soon breach the wall. He added that it would be helpful if they could dredge the river bottom near the village by at least six feet so more water could flow past, but that would be an expensive proposition.

A couple of kids in the village of Turtuk, on the Shyok River
A couple of kids in the village of Turtuk, on the Shyok River (Photo by Saurabh Chatterjee on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Tsering Jorgay, a 40-year old man from Kuri, said that the changing patterns of the river are not their only concern. The village is not getting as much snowfall as it used to. When he was a kid, he was able to snowshoe to school on homemade wooden planks that were nailed to plastic pipes. His kids today don’t have enough snowfall to even dream about such things.

A farmer from the nearby village of Murgi told Al Jazeera that snow falling after January is unstable, as it does not have enough time to freeze and become packed. He expressed the worries of the villagers that, because of the unstable snow above them in the mountains, they will be more susceptible to avalanches than they were in the past. Lotus Sonam, Director of the India Meteorological Department in Srinagar, agreed. He said he is working on ways to better predict avalanches and flash floods.

The Al Jazeera article mentioned the freak storms of August 2010, cloudbursts that produced 350 mm of rain in only two days. The destruction caused by the floods in Leh and surrounding communities that year was unprecedented. But the conclusion? There is really no effective way to deal with the problem and the government does not have a workable plan. So there is no foreseeable way to end the erratic flows of rivers such as the Siachen, which define the way of life for the rural Ladakhi people.