Deusdedit Ruhangariyo
ICT
Around the world: Karst quarries threaten Indigenous yam heritage in Indonesia; Khoi, San, and exiled heroes come home in South Africa; Pacific islands confront “bitter paradox” at UN Ocean Summit; Canadian Indigenous evacuees find refuge far from home; and Indigenous Nations unite to protect 6 million km² (2.3 million square miles) of Malenasian Ocean reserve.
INDONESIA: Indigenous yams threatened by mining
Dewdrops cling to weeds in Indonesia’s remote Banggai archipelago as Deslin Kalaeng pries a round root from the craggy limestone. “That’s the Banggai yam,” the Tolobuono Komba-komba “village mother” says at dawn, “our source of life, other than rice,” Mongabay reported on June 9.
For generations, women on Peleng Island have nurtured more than 20 nutrient-rich yam varieties that survive only because the island is an intact karst – 97 percent porous limestone honeycombed with caves and springs. This “Swiss-cheese” aquifer waters 130,000 residents and finances families. “I bought my motorbike with the money I earned selling yams,” notes Imran, head of Balayo’s village council.
That balance may break. Thirty-nine sites on Peleng hold government exploration permits, and one firm already has a quarry licence in Deslin’s village. Prospectors promise jobs; locals foresee an ecological time bomb. “What would happen if this limestone were to become extinct?” Deslin asks. “The yams wouldn’t grow, and the water would vanish.”
Karst scholar Eko Haryono says nearly a tenth of Indonesia’s 155,000 km² (60,000 square miles) of karst is already damaged by mining. Wandi of WALHI, the nation’s largest environmental NGO, warns that ripping out limestone “plays a role in providing clean water sources and supporting soil fertility for vegetation growth, such as Banggai’s yams.” A 2024 npj Heritage Science study links karst mining to rocky desertification that “seriously restricts economic and social development and threatens human living space.”
District decrees now require any development to spare endemic plants and springs, yet “approximately 28 companies” are petitioning to loosen zoning rules, WALHI says. “Otherwise, the local government risks becoming the main actor creating a ‘time bomb’ for life on Peleng Island,” Wandi adds.
Stakes are high. Families earn up to 10 million rupiah (US $610) per harvest; balanced yam nutrients help keep Central Peleng’s child-stunting rate below the national average. Public-health researchers blame Indonesia’s 1970s pivot to subsidised white rice for soaring diabetes, making the Banggai yam a rare Indigenous safeguard. “Banggai’s yams can be planted again and again for centuries if they’re looked after,” says Yusman of the Indonesian Evergreen Association. “Mining only needs 10 or 20 years to erase it all.”
Each first harvest the community holds a thanksgiving, retelling how the youngest of seven siblings became a yam to save his starving family. “This story isn’t some empty fairy tale,” Imran says. “It’s our way of preserving our heritage.” Preparing fields, weaving rattan baskets, planting and digging tubers choreograph a social ritual. “It isn’t just work,” Imran adds. “It’s a ritual.”
Deslin, rattan basket on her back, watches the dewdrops sink into stone. “If the mines come, we won’t just lose our land,” she says softly. “We’ll lose our way of life. … What would be left for our children and grandchildren?”
SOUTH AFRICA: Khoi, San and exiled heroes come home
In a historic step toward justice and healing, South Africa’s Ministry of Sport, Arts and Culture has launched two major initiatives to restore dignity to the country’s First Peoples and political exiles, Cape Times reported on June 10.
“These are acts of justice, remembrance, and healing,” said Minister Gayton McKenzie according to the Cape Times.
The first initiative focuses on the reburial of 58 ancestral remains belonging to the Khoi, San, Nama, Griqua and Korana peoples – South Africa’s First Nations – whose bodies were long treated as museum objects or scientific specimens without consent.
“These remains were stolen, displayed, and studied without dignity,” the minister said. “This is about restoring humanity.”
The reburial process is being guided by the Northern Cape Reburial Task Team, which represents the communities whose ancestors are being returned. It is coordinated in partnership with the Iziko Museums of South Africa and the South African Heritage Resources Agency. The process emphasizes cultural and spiritual obligations, not just procedural burial.
“It is not just about returning remains to the soil. It is about restoring dignity,” McKenzie emphasized.
Looking beyond national borders, the government has also initiated talks with the Hunterian Museum at the University of Glasgow to return additional Khoi and San remains still held overseas.
The second initiative, the Exile Repatriation Project, seeks to recover the remains of South African freedom fighters who died in exile during the struggle against apartheid. Many were buried in unmarked graves in countries like Angola, Lesotho, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.
This effort dates back to a 2019 request from Military Veterans and gained momentum in 2021 with the approval of a National Policy on the Repatriation and Restitution of Human Remains and Heritage Objects. A technical mission will soon begin inspecting cemetery records, mapping graves, and conducting archival research to locate and return these exiles.
Families have been asked to submit names, photos, or other records that might help identify loved ones lost to history.
“We honour the memory of those whose dignity was stolen through centuries of injustice,” McKenzie said. “This is a path toward national healing.”
These twin efforts – rooted in Indigenous sovereignty and anti-colonial remembrance – signal a shift in how South Africa approaches legacy, trauma, and repair. For many families, it is the first time that official institutions have acknowledged their pain not only with words, but with action.
OCEANIA: Pacific islands confront funding inequity
At the third United Nations Ocean Conference (UNOC3) in Nice, France, Pacific Island leaders expressed frustration at what they called a “bitter paradox” in global ocean financing, SPREP News reported on June 10.
“We are champions of protection, yet among the least supported,” said Hon. Steven Victor, Palau’s Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and the Environment, during the Ocean Action Panel on June 10. ‘‘Despite our stewardship, we face persistent inequities in access to finance.”
UNOC3, co-hosted by France and Costa Rica (June 9-13), aimed to accelerate collective action under Sustainable Development Goal 14: Life Below Water – the least funded of all such development goals. Small Island Developing States, which include the Pacific nations, receive just 0.22 percent of global climate finance, according to Minister Victor.
“This is not because the Pacific has failed to act,” he said. “We are embedding ocean action into our national adaptation and biodiversity strategies and financing plans. But we are still waiting on fair, timely finance to ensure these plans are fully implemented.”
Minister Victor emphasized the need to fund science, institutions, and Pacific-led finance systems. “The full value of the ocean will only be unlocked when investments match ambition.”
He highlighted the Unlocking Blue Pacific Prosperity initiative, endorsed by Pacific leaders in 2023, which aims to manage 100 percent of Pacific Ocean territory and protect 30 percent by 2030 – more than 2 billion hectares, roughly the size of Europe. Dubbed the largest conservation effort in history, it seeks to rebalance access to data, finance, and technology in ocean governance.
“The Pacific is already delivering,” Victor said. “From Palau’s traditional protection of the Rock Islands, to Fiji’s blue bond, to Niue’s conservation trust – this is what innovation from the frontlines looks like.”
But innovation alone isn’t enough.
“Financial instruments must be tailored to SIDS-specific needs,” he urged. “Eligibility criteria must account for our multidimensional vulnerabilities, and the global financial system must eliminate bottlenecks and layers that dilute our efforts.”
As over 60 world leaders debate deep-sea mining, plastic pollution, and climate-linked fisheries collapse, Pacific nations continue to raise a moral question: How long must those who do the most for the ocean wait for the rest of the world to catch up?
“Impactful ocean investment cannot happen in isolation. It must reflect conservation, food systems, climate resilience, and the daily lives of Pacific communities.”
CANADA: Indigenous evacuees find refuge far from home
As wildfires raged across northern Manitoba in late May, Joseph Garry, 63, was airlifted from the Mathias Colomb Cree Nation – also known as Pukatawagan – in a Chinook military helicopter, CTV News reported on June 10.
“To tell you the truth, it’s … it’s scary,” he said in tears from a hotel in Niagara Falls, where he and his extended family – 50 members strong – were finally reunited. “Not for myself, but for everybody else. Especially children.”
Garry’s journey involved three government flights and a bus ride, carrying him over 2,000 kilometers from his ancestral homeland to Canada’s most famous tourist city. He left behind almost everything – except a few clothes – while smoke and flames crept dangerously close. A pilot once warned that fire was just half a kilometer away and advancing fast.
More than 30,000 people have been displaced by wildfires this season across Canada, with Indigenous communities hit hardest. Though First Nations people make up only 5% of the population, they are among the most severely affected.
Roughly 2,000 evacuees from Manitoba and another 500 from Northern Ontario are now being housed in Niagara Falls hotels, as Winnipeg runs out of emergency space. While Mayor Jim Diodati welcomed the evacuees, he urged federal and provincial governments to find long-term solutions, especially as tourism season nears.
For evacuees like Vanessa Hart, 43, the trauma wasn’t just the fire – it was the slow response. “They didn’t come and help right away,” she said, noting that repeated calls from the chief and council went unanswered for days. She believes an earlier evacuation would have prevented much distress.
The evacuation was managed by Indigenous Services Canada, which described emergency response as a “shared responsibility.” Manitoba’s government added that smoky conditions initially grounded water bombers near Pukatawagan.
But many, including Assembly of First Nations National Chief Cindy Woodhouse Nepinak, say First Nations have been underprepared for decades. “We need more coordination. And we’ve been asking for it for decades,” she said. She also called for investments in basic infrastructure like hydrants and fire trucks, which many remote reserves lack.
A return date for evacuees is unclear – dependent on fire containment and restoration of plane and rail access, which could take one to two months.
Until then, Niagara Falls offers safety – but not certainty.
OCEANIA: Indigenous Nations unite to protect ocean
At the UN Ocean Conference in Nice, the governments of Solomon Islands and Vanuatu unveiled plans for the Melanesian Ocean Reserve – the planet’s first Indigenous-led, multi-nation marine sanctuary. Spanning at least 6 million km² (2.3 million square miles), the reserve will link the national waters of Solomon Islands, Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea with New Caledonia’s protected zone, forming a marine area as vast as the Amazon and home to hundreds of distinct Indigenous peoples, SIBC News reported on June 12.
“For millennia, the Indigenous Peoples of Melanesia have been the wisest and most effective stewards of these sacred waters,” declared Solomon Islands Prime Minister Jeremiah Manele. “That is why our governments are joining forces to create an unprecedented ocean reserve that honors our identities, livelihoods and spiritual connections.”
Vanuatu’s environment minister, Ralph Regenvanu, noted the initiative fulfills a key priority of his country’s National Ocean Policy: “Establishing this transboundary corridor of traditionally managed ocean space is now happening, and it lets Melanesia protect our ancestral waters from those who extract and exploit without concern for the planet.”
Although the formal announcement came from the Solomons and Vanuatu, both Papua New Guinea and New Caledonia signaled their intent to join. Participating nations will permit only sustainable activities – such as community-led fisheries or eco-tourism – in line with Indigenous values.
The Melanesian Ocean Reserve idea was first sketched in 2024 at a Convention on Biological Diversity meeting in Cali, Colombia, by Solomon Islands environment minister Trevor Mahaga and Vanuatu’s Regenvanu. They soon enlisted PNG’s fisheries minister Jelta Wong, the global nonprofit Nia Tero, and the Islands Knowledge Institute to refine the blueprint.
“What these Melanesian leaders are doing is giving voice to the hope of all Oceanic peoples – to bring forward the dream and knowledge of our ancestors and care for the ocean the way it deserves,” said ‘Aulani Wilhelm, Nia Tero’s Indigenous CEO.
IKI’s Indigenous ecologist Dr. Edgar Pollard underscored the cultural heartbeat of the project: “The reserve connects to an unmistakable truth in Melanesia – that treating the ocean as our home is the best protection. The excitement comes from making that relationship real at every level, from tribe to village to state.”
By turning ancestral stewardship into international policy, Melanesian leaders are not just safeguarding biodiversity; they are setting a global precedent for Indigenous-driven climate and ocean governance – one that could ripple far beyond the Pacific.
My final thoughts
This week, in places too often overlooked by power, Indigenous communities quietly taught the rest of the world how to remember. They didn’t just mourn what’s been lost. They acted – decisively, bravely, with clarity. And in doing so, they offered something rare: a map of how to survive with dignity.
On Indonesia’s Peleng Island, Deslin Kalaeng rises before sunrise. She kneels gently, freeing a Banggai yam from limestone that has nourished her people for generations. This isn’t just food. It’s family. It’s medicine. It’s a memory. But now mining companies circle with quarry licenses and promises. Deslin has seen the damage. “What will be left for our grandchildren?” she asks, not rhetorically, but as someone who already fears the silence of dried wells and vanished roots. The math is heartbreakingly simple: take the stone, and life unravels.
In South Africa, a different kind of restoration is unfolding. Fifty-eight Khoi and San ancestors – once displayed in museums like artifacts – are finally being returned to their communities. The state is also tracing the graves of exiled freedom fighters who died far from home. Officials call it policy. Families call it peace. These ceremonies are not just symbolic. They are acts of national repair moments where justice touches the ground.
In France, at the UN Ocean Conference, Pacific Island leaders arrived not to plead but to remind. They are safeguarding marine territory larger than Europe. Yet they receive just 0.22 percent of global climate finance. “Champions of protection, least supported,” said Palau’s minister. It wasn’t a complaint, it was exhaustion. These nations aren’t waiting for the world to lead; they’re doing the work already. What they’re asking for is fairness.
In Canada, as wildfires closed in, the Mathias Colomb Cree Nation waited. Days passed. Finally, helicopters came. Families like Joseph Garry’s were flown more than 2,000 kilometers (1,243 miles) to hotel rooms overlooking Niagara Falls. Safe, yes – but shaken. “It’s scary,” he said. “Not for me – for the children.” In one of the world’s wealthiest countries, First Nations still wait the longest. The flames are fast. The response is not.
And then, Melanesia delivered a global headline in a quiet tone: the Melanesian Ocean Reserve. Six million square kilometers (2.3 million square miles) of ancestral sea declared sacred and protected. “We are not protecting the ocean,” said Prime Minister Jeremiah Manele. “The ocean has always protected us.” It was more than policy. It was poetry that could save the planet.
Thread these stories together, and something clear emerges. Where others extract, delay or dismiss, Indigenous communities restore, respond and remember. If we fund these solutions, follow these frameworks, and center these voices – not as victims, but as leaders – we may yet find our way.
Deslin’s whisper on Peleng is a warning and an offering: “Lose the stone, lose the story.” But we don’t have to. The wisdom is still here. The guardians are still standing. All we have to do now is listen.
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