The Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting published an interesting report last week by multimedia journalist Lauren E. Bohn on the Nubians of Egypt and their continuing claims to lands along the Nile.

Nubian girlThe text of her article offers little that is new: the losses the Nubians suffered since the Aswan High Dam was closed in 1964; the forced relocations of most of the villagers; the lack of adequate compensation to the people; and the language and customs that are dying. She mentions the discrimination that Nubians have faced at the hands of Arabic Egyptians, and the lower status, menial jobs that many take in Cairo and other Egyptian cities.

The prime interest in her article is the series of 19 photos that accompany the story, especially the ones that portray individual Nubians and the communities where they live. A few should be singled out, so people interested in the peaceful Nubian culture can visit the site, look through the images, and read the captions she provides.

The first, the image that is pictured when the story opens, shows a dun-colored, one story building with an elderly lady sitting on a bench in front. Bohn tells us that she is Umm Ahmed, a lady who clearly remembers when she and the rest of her family were removed from their village in 1964. The journalist goes on to relate, in the caption, that the government now in power, the Muslim Brotherhood, is promising a “strategic vision” for the development of the Aswan Governate, but the Nubians are skeptical.

Photos two and three portray 82-year old farmer Hag Gaffour, who is shown in front of his fields near Abu Simbel and then in front of a masonry wall. He explains that he was lucky that his family was displaced onto viable agricultural land. He tells the journalist that he is not sure it is worthwhile for Nubians to keep on fighting for their rights. Many are becoming tired of it all.

“Yes, we are a minority, but we’re also indigenous people,” he argues. “Nubians have lived on this land for thousands of years.” He goes on to say that they have suffered from a lot of discrimination, but, even worse, they are ignored and neglected—“like we’re not even here,” he complains.

The photos give a good impression of the rural countryside. No. 4 shows a couple men walking away from the camera along a flat, sandy country road. No. 6 shows a family herding a flock of goats across another country road, apparently at the edge of a village in the background.

Images 9 and 13 show lovely scenes in the village of Abu Simbel—carefully tended buildings and roads kept neat and clean to appeal to tourists. It is refreshing to see photos of the homes where contemporary people live, rather than just the stone colossi of a dead pharaoh and his wife that have been photographed by countless tourists over the years.

Perhaps the most appealing images are the portraits, and the accompanying quotes, of the Nubian people themselves. Hagg Essam is quoted (no. 7) complaining that the two million Nubians are not effectively represented in Egyptian politics. All the parties court them in the run-up to each election, but then they leave and don’t come back. “They don’t care,” he says.

Ms. Bohn pictures Ahmed Hussain (image no. 10), the 70-year old owner of a school in Alexandria who frequently visits Nubia, where he hopes to build another school. His attitude is that Nubians have to help themselves, and not rely on assistance from the Egyptian government. “Let’s just work,” he urges.

The next image (no. 11) is of Hussein Kobbara, who is working on a Nubian language dictionary. The following image (no. 12) is of the Mayor of Abu Simbel, Mubarak Ahmed Aly. He advocates the construction of a new highway south from Abu Simbel into Sudan, so that his community can become a crossroads trading center. “We’re more than just temples and tourism,” he argues.

Bohn fills in the details about Abu Simbel: that only government controlled busses are allowed to bring visitors to the tourist center once a day—a scheme by the government to make money, she suggests.

Image no. 16 shows Nasser Basho and his daughter Fatmah, presumably pictured in their home. He is a director of plays and musicals. He explains that, for him, music is his way of life, his way of revolting.

Image no. 19, showing a somewhat trash-strewn urban street, includes a caption about the land question.  Bohn indicates that some Nubians, like the writer Kobbara (pictured in image 11), express the importance of remaining hopeful about the issue. “There is so much, so much potential. We can see it, but we cannot reach for it,” Mr. Kobbara says.

A couple of school children from Sikkim, in northern India, one of whom is a Lepcha girl, have had the chance to meet a prominent Bollywood actor and film an advertisement with him. The two kids are celebrities in their school in the town of Melli, Sikkim, which is just a few miles north of Kalimpong.

Ranbir Kapoor

According to a news story last week in The Telegraph of Calcutta, Ranbir Kapoor, a successful 30-year old actor from Mumbai, and a group of schoolchildren from several parts of India, gathered together to participate in filming an advertisement about the importance of kids getting an education. Lakhit Lepcha, a 14-year old girl, and her younger classmate, Abhishek Rai, 11, took a train to Mumbai to do the filming. The principal of their school, Sekhar Chettri, accompanied them on the trip.

Mr. Chettri gained recongnition for his program at the Melli Gumpa Government Secondary School by sending a report about it to the Sarva Siksha Abhiyan, an agency that promotes the universal availability of elementary education in India. After he submitted his report, the agency informed him that his school had been selected to be featured as part of the ad extolling the benefits of education.

A film crew from Mumbai visited Melli in April to spend a few days filming in the school. After some screen tests, the two children were selected to do the filming with the famous actor in the big city. On May 3, the two, plus the principal, took a train to Mumbai, the first ever train ride by the youngsters.

Lakhit told her school when she returned, “it was an amazing experience to work with Ranbir Kapoor. I have seen him only on television but performing with him was like a dream come true.” The kids said that Ranbir asked them about their hobbies and about the state where they lived. He also played some soccer with them. Officials from the government Human Resources Development Ministry stayed with the children in their Mumbai hotel.

Mr. Chettri asked the two kids to write their impressions of the trip in a journal so they could share their experiences with the school when they returned to Sikkim. Both children are from farming families. The day after they returned to Melli, the two read their accounts to the school. Lakhit indicated that her friends quizzed her exhaustively about Ranbir—how handsome he is, his height, and his dance moves.

The ad, filmed in Bandra, a suburb of Mumbai, includes a scene of the actor and the kids talking about the importance of education. Needless to say, a dance and a song is also part of the ad—“listen to the school bell, the school is calling you.” The ad will be aired next month.

The N≠a Jaqna Conservancy of the !Kung community, located in Tsumkwe West, has been invaded by Oshiwambo farmers from northern Namibia who are bringing their cattle into the conservancy lands. The N≠a Jaqna Conservancy is on the western border of the Nyae Nyae Conservancy in northeastern Namibia. The former is managed by the !Kung, the latter by the Ju/’hoansi, very closely related San peoples.

Oshiwambo villageOddly, the Ju/’hoansi suffered an invasion of farmers from the area of Gam to the south of their lands four years ago. Herero farmers from Gam cut the fences of the Nyae Nyae Conservancy in 2009 and brought their cattle north illegally onto Ju/’hoansi property. The dispute, which dragged on in the news for years, appears to have finally been settled.

The Oshiwambo farmers, moving down from northern Namibia into the N≠a Jaqna Conservancy, have apparently been aggressive with their invasion. They have been bringing their animals across a veterinary fence into the conservancy for the past three months, and have already fenced in between 5,000 and 6,000 acres for their cattle.

According to a news report last week, a member of the !Kung community, Edward //Xari, blamed a former member of the !Kung traditional authority, Aohou Ngavitene, for the problem. He claimed that Mr. Ngavitene had sold conservancy lands to the farmers from the north. //Xari alleged that he had used as his means of authority an official stamp that formerly belonged to the late chief, John Arnold, who died not long ago. The local police commander has now taken possession of the stamp.

“Every weekend they [the Oshiwambo farmers] come to buy, return to the north for a few weeks, and then return to settle with their families and cattle,” said //Xari. “They cut down trees to make poles as they wish, with no permits. We are San people who stay in the conservancy.”

He complained to the news reporter that the !Kung used to be able to live off the revenues from harvesting devil’s claw herbs for market, plus wild fruits and wildlife meat. However, with so much land occupied at present by the outside farmers, they are fenced out of their traditional lands and sources of income.

“Now we have no access, no freedom of movement. They are disrespecting us, maybe because we are San,” he said.

Several Namibian national and regional officials denied having any knowledge of the matter. The office of the deputy prime minister says he knows nothing about it. Likewise, the regional council office in Tsumkwe and the members of the San Extension Programme, in the Prime Minister’s Office, deny knowing anything.

However, Likoro Masheshe, Chief Control Officer of the Tsumkwe Settlement, admitted that he thought the allegations were true, though he said he was not up to date on developments.

Joseph Anghuwo, Commissioner of the Otjozondjupa Region of Namibia in which the two conservancies are located, said that if the story is true, then the invaders are violating Namibian law and they will be prosecuted. He referred to the invasion of the Nyae Nyae Conservancy four years ago and said that if a similar thing is happening again, the government will take appropriate measures.

This invasion is not the first for the !Kung. A 2004 history of civil rights in the Tsumkwe West area by Richard Pakleppa (1) provides some background to the issue. The Pakleppa article, available in Google Books, indicates that as early as the year 2000, the government was considering plans to relocate refugees from other parts of Namibia to Tsumkwe West. John Arnold apparently led a successful protest against the plan. Things are not going as well since he died.

(1) Pakleppa, Richard. 2004. “Civil Rights in Legislation and Practice: A Case Study from Tsumkwe District West, Namibia.” In Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in Southern Africa, edited by Robert Hitchcock and Diana Vinding, p. 82-96. Copenhagen: IWIGA.

While Bloomberg BusinessWeek last week trumpeted the recent Mexican economic powerhouse, some poor, marginalized communities in that country, such as those of the Zapotec, appear to be increasingly repressed.

Oaxaca Wind ProjectThe Independent European Daily Express, a news organization based in the Netherlands, carried an IPS story on its website last week announcing that a community radio station in Oaxaca had been shut down by the government. The move by the authorities follows, and seems to be related to, very contentious community reactions to a disputed wind farm, which provoked a lot of opposition and controversy last year.

Radio Totopo, broadcasting from the Pescadores neighborhood of Juchitán, a small, primarily Zapotec city in Oaxaca, had been on the air since 2006. About 90 percent of its programming was in the language spoken by the local Zapotec people. Pescadores is in the oldest and poorest part of the city. Like most community radio stations in Mexico, the station had no operating license, so the authorities seized all the equipment and shut it down at the end of March.

The station had supported the causes of the local poor people, the farmers and fisherfolk, particularly in their fight to prevent the installation of an industrial wind farm on communal lands. Radio Totopo translated contracts into the local Zapotec language, called Diidxazá, and broadcasted them. It publicized issues raised by opponents to the industrial development until March 26 when the state police arrived to remove equipment, the transmitter, a computer, and evict the station from the site.

During the confrontation with the authorities, Carlos Sánchez, one of the coordinators of the station, suffered a broken arm. He is now in hiding. Mariano López Gómez, a leading opponent of the wind farm, was detained for several days.

All of this has been going on, oddly, while the Mexican parliament has been debating a constitutional reform that will guarantee the rights of community and indigenous radio stations. The success of the new law is uncertain, but some voices in Oaxaca cynically disparage the process.

Óscar Ledima Santiago, a coordinator of the repressed Radio Totopo, said that the proposed law “is useless to us.” He added that the “debate is a lie, because the radio stations are being subjected to repression for defending people’s rights, and by the time the secondary regulations are passed, there won’t be any land left to fight for.”

Other community radio stations have also been harassed for supporting the efforts of local people to control their own lands and resources. Two reporters from the Radio Voces de los Pueblos were held for a couple hours on March 21, and a couple days later, Filiberto Vicente from Radio Xadani said that he had received death threats. Radio Huave, another community station, has had its transmitting equipment stolen.

In all of those instances, the stations had become involved in supporting the resistance of indigenous people to large mining or energy development projects. A group called the Assembly of Peoples of the Isthmus in Defence of Land and Territory said, in a communiqué, “we demand a thorough investigation of these attacks, and punishment of the officials and company owners linked to the violation of our right to information.”

The enthusiastic Bloomberg BusinessWeek story about the vibrant Mexican economy does admit that the country still has many problems, such as weakness in its public institutions, rampant corruption, and an underdeveloped rule of law. Trampling on the rights of indigenous peoples, especially when they get in the way of profitable energy developments, could be included on the list.

James Stahl, the young tour guide, tells a reporter from the nearby town newspaper that while lots of things are now done differently in the colonies, basic Hutterite values have not changed. Giving a tour last week for the Mountain View Gazette, a weekly paper in Olds, Alberta, Stahl described the way his group is developing the facilities and industries for a new colony, which will be located a few miles away.

South Central AlbertaThe existing colony, Valley View, was founded in 1971 near the rural hamlet of Torrington, AB, about 55 miles north of Calgary, 33 miles south of Red Deer, 20 miles east of Olds, and 45 miles northwest of Drumheller. It is preparing to split off a daughter facility to be called the May City Colony. The new colony will be about halfway between Olds and Torrington. A few buildings have been erected for the new facility, and a handful of men are already handling some plant operations on the site, which Mr. Stahl shows the reporter.

According to the paper, the Mountain View County Municipal Planning Commission on April 3rd received an application for a permit to build the new May City Colony. It will include, in addition to housing and living facilities, a chicken broiler barn, a chicken layer barn, a duck and geese barn, and a manure storage facility. The new colony plans to raise 250 geese and 750 ducks.

A metal fabricating plant on the 3,000 acre property has been in operation for seven years, staffed by a small group of workers from Valley View, including Mr. Stahl. Called the May City Roll Forming company, it is managed by the Hutterites from Valley View, but is actually owned by VersaFrame, Inc., a Canadian company. (The reporter refers to the parent colony repeatedly as “Valleyview”, but Janzen and Stanton list it in their recent book as “Valley View.”)

The rolling plant produces metal products for roofs, sidewalks, oilfield containment structures, and agricultural facilities. Three colony members work in the office and two on the shop floor. They ship their products to customers in Alberta and British Columbia. The company business grew 10 percent last year, and anticipates growing 20 percent more this year. VersaFrame owns most of the equipment, while the colony owns the building and one of the production lines.

The reporter’s hosts talk about the anticipated formation of the new colony. The population at Valley View has grown to about 120 people, so it is planning its next split. Leonard Stahl, a 26-year old who works on the shop floor, spoke eagerly about the prospect. “Once this place is ready for people to move up here then we’re going to do it,” he said.

His cousin, 19-year old Curtis Stahl, who works with him on the shop floor, also expressed his enthusiasm. “It’s a new experience,” he says. “I’m gonna learn a lot I guess.”

James Stahl, the tour guide, indicates they will have to build the chicken barn, then the houses. Once they split the group at the old colony and half the people actually move, the new colony members will elect their spiritual leader. They will also have to build more barns so there will be plenty of work to do for the people who move, he says.

He reflects on the anticipated move, and the way things change but stay the same. “It’s kinda changing with time but you’re really sticking to your principles,” he says, “your unchanging principles.”

The man’s words are haunting: “We are Mbuti, children of the forest …. We were created in the forest, and the forest is where the spirits of our ancestors still live. The forest gives us all that we need.” Chief Mundeheykwa continues by describing the uses the Mbuti have traditionally made of forest resources—branches and leaves for their huts, tree bark for cloth, and dyes derived from plants and flowers for decorating.

Mbuti girlAs he describes the benefits of forest life, a series of still images, one after the next every few seconds, provide color and context to this moving story about the famed Mbuti people. For instance, an image of a young girl’s face, carefully decorated with dye, flashes on the screen as the woman’s voice-over is narrating, in English translation, the chief’s words mentioning the uses of dyes for bodily decorations.

The chief continues by relating other uses of the forest: nuts, plants, fruits, honey, and meat. A legend appears on the screen telling us that the Mbuti pygmies have lived in the Ituri Forest of the D.R. Congo for thousands of years, and as of today 9,000 still live there, in the Okapi Wildlife Reserve.

The reserve was founded by scientists, including Terese and John Hart, to study and help preserve the okapi, elusive and endemic forest animals related to giraffes. The Harts and the Congolese scientists began the reserve at the facility established half a century earlier as Camp Putnam, which was where the famed anthropologist Colin Turnbull studied the Mbuti over 50 years ago. Unfortunately, in recent years the Okapi Wildlife Reserve has been at the crossroads of warfare and fighting.

This 5:44 minute video, just released to Vimeo last week, was clearly prepared as a way of celebrating with viewers the traditional skills and lives of the Mbuti, and, just as importantly, of raising awareness about the stresses and traumas those people are enduring.

An image of a somewhat grizzled man who is holding a small bow and arrow, named Chebalani, indicates he is the next speaker. He says that meat is their favorite food, and hunting is their most significant tradition. He describes the net hunting techniques familiar to all readers of Turnbull’s international best seller The Forest People (1961). Images of the ceremony that precedes the hunt, of the uses of the nets, and the shooting of antelopes accompany Chebalani’s description.

“Everyone is important in the hunt,” he tells us, with a fetching image of a Mbuti woman and a baby on her back on the screen. He describes how the hunters stretch their nets through the forest, and how the women and children make enough noise to drive animals into the nets for the men to kill. Then, he says, “we divide the meat into small pieces so that everyone in the group can have some.” Their forest tradition clearly includes fond memories of the custom of sharing.

Another man, identified as Chief Mangubo, takes over and tells us about the importance of the ancestors, and of music, to the Mbuti. The people play, dance, and sing every day as a way of communicating with their ancestors, he says. They welcome a new baby into the community through the performance of a special dance. They sing to insure the success of the honey collection season, they sing to celebrate marriages, to accompany their initiation rituals, and sometimes just to show their happiness. If problems come up, they hope their songs will elicit assistance from the ancestors.

The video then turns darker. We are told that, although they have lived in harmony with nature for millennia, their society, and the forest they live in, are both now under severe threats of destruction due to wars, poachers, and non-Mbuti immigrants.

Chief Mayani Mingi is introduced. He says that the Mbuti were ordered by the D.R. Congo government to leave the forest and to live next to the main road. There, they have suffered due to a lack of money—they can’t purchase needed goods. Food from animals is becoming scare because some Mbuti are killing them and selling the meat for the bushmeat trade. Other Mbuti are working for farmers but getting paid only a pittance.

The chief’s wife, Bangypa, is introduced. She tells us that the Mbuti worry their traditions will be lost due to living in the village. She says they encourage their children to not forget the forest-based culture of their ancestors. She adds that they teach the children how to eat traditional foods, and how to hunt. “We want to tell the world that we need help to protect our future. Without the forest we are not Mbuti. We cannot live,” she says as the video concludes.

The closing credits indicate that Molly Feltner is the director and producer of the video. A prominent photographer and filmmaker born in the U.S., Feltner is based in Rwanda.

Unfortunately, her video does not provide, at the close, any information about what viewers can do to help the Mbuti. Older news stories on this website chronicle some of the nasty events they have suffered in recent years, but the lack of any commitments to assist them from major international aid organizations is telling. We are not told if anyone really cares.

In fact, the closing credits indicate that armed guerillas attacked the Okapi Wildlife Reserve headquarters in June 2012 in retaliation for the efforts of the park guards to cut down on the poaching, which is decimating the wildlife. The fighters raped dozens of women, killed six people, and took over 50 hostages. They looted and burned the buildings. People that could, fled into the forest. The Mbuti featured in the video, people who lived near the park headquarters, have disappeared, and their whereabouts are still unknown.

In a recently published article, Thomas Gibson makes it clear that the Buid still retain the “radically pacifistic and egalitarian” society that he studied from 1979 through 1981. He revisited the Buid, also spelled Buhid in many publications, again in May 2009 for the first time in many years.

Anarchic SolidarityWhile a new description of Buid society is not the primary focus of his article, it does provide a good review of his earlier writings and some new insights. His essay primarily deals with the kinship systems and social rankings of societies across the islands of Southeast Asia.

Gibson argues that the pacifism and egalitarianism of the Buid resulted from their reactions, as persecuted highlanders, to the violence of their lowland neighbors. The Portuguese, Dutch, and Spanish colonizers in the Philippines engaged in numerous battles with the Muslim sultanates to the southwest in what is now Indonesia, and the Buid were on the edge of that fighting.

As a result of that history, the Buid reject asymmetrical social relationships and even the expectation that people within families will sustain close social ties. All relationships are based on versions of equality: adults with adults, adults with children, and humans with animals.

The author repeats information found in some of his earlier writings, but the essay is a good review for readers who may not be familiar with those works. For instance, he writes that the Buid do not believe that individuals can own land. The earth is freely owned by all, although perhaps the spirits have the first claim.

People only possess the items they create for themselves, such as the crops they plant in their gardens. Once trees they plant cease providing foods, they revert to the community. Husbands and wives each own the produce from crops they plant, pooling the harvests for their families but retaining individual ownership in the event of divorce. The people manage their gardens individually rather than as larger groups.

The Buid build their houses at some considerable distance from one another, near their swidden (shifting) garden plots, and usually hidden from outsiders in groves of trees. They tend to be spaced evenly, a kilometer or two apart across the landscape. They deliberately space themselves out, evidently as a way of avoiding one another and the conflicts that might arise.

Gibson found that the Buid cooperate for some agricultural tasks at certain times of the year, such as planting crops and harvesting them.  The sponsors of such cooperative tasks host other people from the spread out community at special mid-day meals for all the helpers. The socialization afforded by the meal is the reward for the helpers.

When the Buid kill animals—especially pigs or chickens—they share the meat equally, obsessively, and very carefully. These meat sharing events occurred in the community that Gibson lived in approximately weekly and they provided a primary form of social connectedness. No one was excluded or included due to age, sex, length of residence in the community, or genealogical connections to others.

Moreover, no one felt obligations to reciprocate those social events. People were entitled to a share of the meat at the festivities only because of the fact of living in the community, not because of built up obligations from earlier events. Any social distinctions that existed in the community were thus symbolically dissolved in the communal sharing meals.

The cooperation and sharing that households displayed served as models for the larger Buid community. However, breakdowns in households inevitably occurred, and marriages were quick to split up rather than allowing hostilities to increase. Quarreling would endanger others, so the community as a whole pressured couples who were fighting to resolve their problems or separate. The people frowned on pressures by one partner to preserve a marriage when the other spouse wanted to dissolve it.  It was better to divorce, they felt.

The community would  hold a meeting to help the couple separate, making sure that they agreed on a fair resolution of property and obligations. Normally, the causes of divorce were jealousy over an affair by one or the other spouse with another person, and usually the separated partners were soon married to new mates. It was rare for a person to remain single for more than a few months.

Gibson writes that the spirits of the earth would get quite upset over quarreling by a couple, and the quick resolution of the fighting, or the divorce, was necessary to placate those spirits. The divisions established a state of mystical weakness that had to be healed. Once the marital issues were settled, the people then sacrificed a pig to placate the spirits—and, of course, shared the meat evenly within the community.

The Buid also performed rituals through séances. Mediums sometimes combined their talents to fight off the attacks of predatory spirits. These frequent mystical experiences provided the Buid religion with a lot of vitality. A news story from the Philippines in December 2010 pointed out how the Buid are still able to transfer that vitality and power of their mediums into their fight for their lands against the incursions of lowlanders.

Gibson learned when he revisited the Buid in 2009 that they had gained a sense of integration as a tribe in the 24 years since he had previously been there. The Buid have formed nongovernmental organizations in both the Oriental Mindoro and Occidental Mindoro provinces to represent their rights. The government in 1998 issued a Certificate of Ancestral Land Claim granting them qualified exclusive rights over 98,000 hectares of land. The process of granting genuine land titles, called Certificates of Ancestral Domain Titles, is ongoing.

The Buid in the community where Gibson had done his field work, Ugun Liguma, seemed to exhibit a social style that was quite similar to what he had observed earlier. The continuity he observed suggested that they still retained their religious beliefs and their harmonious ways of settling marital and land disputes.

And of considerable importance, they still treat the old and the young, men and women, parents and children equally. They still place a high value on tranquility and harmony, and devalue aggression and competition. In other words, the Buid remain a highly peaceful society.

Gibson, Thomas. 2011. “Egalitarian Islands in a Predatory Sea.” In Anarchic Solidarity: Autonomy, Equality, and Fellowship in Southeast Asia, Edited by Thomas Gibson and Kenneth Sillander, p.270-293. New Haven, CT: Yale Southeast Asia Studies, Monograph 60

A brief incident of violence broke out among the normally peaceful Nubians at the end of last week, but the major injury was to the tourist trade image of southern Egypt. Since the incident affected over 600 tourists, it generated some news coverage.

Abu SimbelDetails are a bit sketchy from the different accounts, but apparently a couple Nubian families living near the famed temple complex of Abu Simbel, about 150 miles southwest of the city of Aswan, disagreed about the distribution of agricultural lands by the government. According to Ahmed Hassan, an inspector of antiquities at Abu Simbel, some armed Nubians occupied the disputed lands with their tents. They claimed they had papers showing their ownership.

Members of a rival family, asserting their rights to the lands, set fire to the tents of the occupiers, who retaliated with gunfire in an attempt to scare off the challengers. Mr. Hassan’s take on the incident was that “no one was injured.” He added that the unarmed faction protested by blocking the road leading out of Abu Simbel late on Friday, April 26th.

Other sources indicate that one person was, in fact, injured in the confrontation, though whether due to a gunshot wound or some other cause was not clear. All sources agree that the unarmed Nubian family, protesting the incident, blocked the road as a way of demanding that the armed group be arrested for their violence in terrifying the peaceful Nubians—or so their narrative went.

The blockade of the road led to about 630 foreign tourists, and the 46 buses they had arrived in, being trapped in Abu Simbel. Security forces said that the tourists simply stayed in their hotels overnight while officials attempted to negotiate with the people at the blockade, at first unsuccessfully.

The governor of Aswan said that other hotels would also be opened to the tourists until the dispute was settled. By Saturday morning, the negotiations were successful. The protestors lifted the blockade allowing the tourist buses to leave.

The nature of the conflict and its resolution is of special interest. Robert Fernea’s 1973 book Nubians in Egypt: Peaceful People explains the ways these people used to handle family conflicts in Old Nubia—before the destruction of their traditional society by the closing of the Aswan Dam in the 1960s. Fernea wrote that the Nubians traditionally tried to avoid revealing serious problems to outsiders, particularly to people such as the Egyptian police, since the best way for a village to survive was to be ignored by authorities.

Fernea added that most of their disputes were, until the 1960s, resolved through popular mediation. The Nubians had a strong ethic of getting involved in public quarrels, and of trying to help the parties to a dispute find ways of backing off from a problem.

Disputes among family members were seen as especially troublesome, but the Nubians considered it a duty to try to mediate, to keep a dialogue going. For really serious disputes, they convened a council of a group that shared produce, called a nog. The senior member of the nog heard all the evidence to a quarrel and then required both parties to publicly beg the forgiveness of one another.

Unfortunately, the unique styles of conflict resolution of Old Nubia appear to have disappeared in the past 50 years. Since their traditional society was destroyed, it would be unreasonable to expect them to preserve the same patterns of retaining their peacefulness. It is not clear what, if any, dispute settlement strategies are now replacing them—except for protesting to gain public attention, which gets the authorities involved.

Nine teenage Birhor boys are now working in laboring jobs rather than in the kinds of positions they were promised when they enrolled 11 years ago at the Bokaro Steel school for underprivileged tribal children. According to a news report in The Telegraph of Calcutta last Thursday, the boys have written to the governor of Jharkhand state, Syed Ahmed, and to other officials expressing their frustration.

Raj Bhavan of JharkhandThey indicated in their letter that they had been promised jobs, and that the promises by the state Welfare Department made six months ago still had not been fulfilled. One of the boys, Chandolal Birhor, told The Telegraph “we were so happy when we came to know that the state administration had cleared our names for Grade IV jobs. But now it seems that our dreams will be crushed. We have no other option but to work as daily labourers to sustain ourselves.”

Suresh Birhor, another of the nine boys, all of whom are from Tulbul, a village in Gomia Block of Jharkhand, was also willing to let his anger at the broken promises be quoted. “The authorities can only make tall promises to the endangered Birhor tribe, but when it comes to actually implementing the same, the result is zero,” he said.

These nine boys were among a group of 19 that were adopted by the steel plant in 2002 as part of its social responsibility outreach programs. The Bokaro district authorities had promised the boys Grade IV jobs within the government if they passed all the exams, which the nine did last year.

A. Raj Kamal, the Bokaro deputy commissioner, responded to an inquiry from the newspaper by saying that he was new to his job and was unfamiliar with the situation. But he promised to investigate. The Bokaro Steel program to help the Birhor get educations has been featured many times in the Indian press—the huge company has not been shy in touting its social responsibilities to India. Stories about the steel plant and the Birhor boys have been picked up by this website in November 2010, June 2011, and July 2012.

Fortunately for the Birhor, the Indian press takes an interest in their issues. The Telegraph carried a story last July describing the plight of four of those same Birhor boys who were already complaining that they had not gotten the jobs they had been promised. Chandolal Birhor, Santosh Birhor, Ganesh Birhor, and Tobolal Birhor, all of course from Tulbul, were already concerned that four months had elapsed since they had passed their final exams.

Despite having finished their schooling, they were earning Rs 70 (US$0.018) per day as laborers, rather than roughly five times that amount which they could be earning as government office workers. They had met with then Bokaro Deputy Commissioner Sunil Kumar earlier in July and had received his promises of help.

Chandolal Birhor, whose education has obviously encouraged him to speak out, told The Telegraph on that occasion, “we came all the way from Tulbul, which is 70 km away, to study, earn a decent living and support our families. We stayed away from our near and dear one[s] because we were promised government jobs. But today, we are loading sand on trucks for a private contractor for Rs 70 a day, which is even less than the rate the government has fixed for daily labour.”

Ganesh Birhor seconded his colleague’s opinions and added that the district welfare officer had promised them jobs shortly after the results of the examination were announced last May. Congratulating the boys, the official had added that jobs “were a few steps away.” The report last week indicates that the nine are planning to start protesting right in front of the state governor’s official mansion, and to launch a hunger strike.

The CBC reported last week that a four-year old proposal to include Nunavut’s Back River in the Canadian Heritage Rivers System is raising some local opposition.

Never in AngerA news story in June 2009 indicated that a member of the territorial legislative assembly proposed the heritage river designation primarily because of the historical importance of the waterway. A very well known Inuit artist, Jessie Oonark, was born along the Back River, a 600 mile long waterway that begins in the Northwest Territory and flows mostly eastward into Nunavut to ultimately end at the Chantrey Inlet, an arm of the Arctic Ocean.

For those interested in the study of peaceful societies, one of the most significant scholarly works in the field has been Jean Briggs’ Never in Anger. That book was based on her field work among the Utkuhikhalik Inuit people, who lived along the Back River. The 2009 news account described the significance of her pioneering work and the way the Utku mastered control over their emotions, especially of anger, to achieve a relatively peaceful society.

The Canadian Heritage Rivers System, in the words of its website, “promotes, protects and enhances Canada’s river heritage, and ensures that Canada’s leading rivers are sustainably managed.” It appears as if that basic characteristic of the system must be prompting opposition among some Inuit.

David Monteith, who is the Director of Parks and Special Places for Nunavut, has been studying the proposal. He explained that the designation as a “heritage” river would provide recognition to it. It would prompt special care and appreciation for the river, should any activities develop in the region that might harm it. He emphasized that the Back area is rich in Inuit history and wildlife.

But the leaders of the Kivalliq region of the territory, where the river is located, are more concerned that the designation might impede the use of mineral resources in their area. David Ningeongan, the president of the Kivalliq Inuit Association, indicated that his group opposes the heritage river designation. They don’t want anything to hamper the possible development of mining.

He pointed to the fact that companies are exploring for both uranium and gold, and significant finds could result in mines. The government of Nunavut is taking a cautious approach, stalling for more time and more studies. Mr. Montieth said that the government will not do anything unless the communities in the region are in agreement.