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Langscape Magazine is a Terralingua Publication

Terralingua thanks the Reva and David Logan Foundation and Kalliopeia Foundation for their generous support.

Editor: Luisa MaffiGuest Editor: David Harmon

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ISSN 2371-3291 (print) ISSN 2371-3305 (digital)

© Terralingua 2018

Langscape Magazine is an extension of the voice of Terralingua. It supports our mission by educating the minds and hearts

about the importance and value of biocultural diversity.

We aim to promote a paradigm shift by illustrating biocultural diversity through scientific and traditional knowledge, within an appealing

sensory context of articles, stories, and art.

ABOUT THE COVER PHOTOS Front: In Cayos Cochinos, Honduras, Mario Flores Aranda is promoting sustainable fishing, using a line loop for live capture so that undersize lobsters may be released unharmed.Photo: Antonio Busiello, 2015

Back: Rice harvest in a rotational farming field in the Hin Lad Nai community of northern Thailand, at the end of the farming year or quv. After harvest, the land will enter hsgi wa, the first year of fallow in the rotational farming cycle.

Photo: Nutandai Trakasupakhon, 2016

2 | LANGSCAPE MAGAZINE SUMMER 2018

LANGSCAPE MAGAZINE VOLUME 7, ISSUE 1,

Summer 2018Biocultural Diversity

Conservation: Communities at the Cutting Edge

TABLE OF CONTENTS

. n a t u r e . l a n g u a g e . c u l t u r e .

EDITORIAL ................................................4IDEASTUNUN KAYUTUKUN: Words Have PowerIlarion (Larry) Merculieff and Libby Roderick ......................................................6

BIOCULTURAL FEATURES OF URBAN GARDENS AND YARDS ENHANCE PLACE-MAKING AND BELONGING IN SOUTH AFRI-CAN TOWNSHIPS Duncan Haynes, Michelle Cocks, and Charlie Shackleton .............................................10

INNOVATIONS AS PART OF SUSTAINABLE PRACTICES IN BIOCULTURAL LANDSCAPES: Experiences from Rotational Farming in the Hin Lad Nai Community of Northern ThailandPernilla Malmer and Prasert Trakansuphakon ............................................ 16

DESIGNING BIOCULTURAL PROTOCOLS WITH THE EMBERA PEOPLE OF COLOMBIAGabriel Nemogá, Justico Domicó, and Alejandro Molina ...............................................20

A NEW APPROACH TO BILINGUAL MARINE CONSERVATION SCIENCE EDUCATION: The Collaborative work of Caribbean Communities and Marine Conservation without BordersThomas Dean King ................................................... 25

REFLECTIONSBIOCULTURAL DIVERSITY AS OBSERVED FROM THE HAWAIIAN NATIONHarvy King .................................................................29

INTO THIS PROCESSED WOVEN LANDMomoe Malietoa von Reiche ................................... 26

A FEW SHORT JOURNEYS ALONG THE NATURE-CULTURE CONTINUUM:Reflections on Community-Led ConservationJessica Brown .............................................................26

DISPATCHESCAN THE CENOTES BE SAVED? Biocultural Conservation in Yucatán, MexicoYolanda López-Maldonado........................................ 31

BIOCULTURAL HERITAGE IN FISHING VILLAGES IN THE FAR NORTH OF SWEDEN: Bringing Traditional Knowledge into the FutureJoakim Boström, Anna-Märta Henriksson, and Marie Kvarnström .............................................. 36

THE SWEEPING DANCE: Cultural Revival, Environmental Conservation, and the Art of Broom-Making in St. LuciaLaurent Jean Pierre .................................................. 42

THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TO A STORY THAN MEETS THE EYE:Tales from the Dusun of Ulu Papar, MalaysiaMarina Aman Sham ................................................. 47

COMMUNITY AND BIOCULTURAL DIVERSITY CONSERVATION IN ETHIOPIA: Learning from Each OtherFassil Gebeyehu Yelemtu .......................................... 52

AN ANCIENT GAME OPENS THE DOOR TO INNOVATION IN THE FARMA VALLEY, SOUTHERN TUSCANY, ITALYAndrea Giacomelli ..................................................... 57

THE BIOCULTURAL FABRIC OF RENOSTERVELD:A Unique Ecosystem at the Heart of the Swartland, South AfricaEmmeline Topp ........................................................... 57

WEB EXTRASTHE POWER OF PLACE NAMES:Embedding Bama Local Languages into the Australian Landscape Michaela Jeannaisse Carter, http://bit.ly/2MtAroD

BIOCULTURAL DIVERSITY ON THE BORDER:The Yaylas of the Western Lesser CaucasusSoner Oruç & Ceren Kazancı, http://bit.ly/2JW7SBA

VOLUME 7 ISSUE 1 | 3

hat does it mean for a community to “conserve” biocultural diversity? Our theme, “Biocultural Diversity Conservation: Communities at the Cutting Edge,”

has that idea at its core, and I think it’s worth taking a moment to delve into what this really means before inviting you to read on for a summary of the good contributions—articles, photo essays, and a poem—that make up this issue of Langscape Magazine. As someone who has spent most of his paid career reflecting on the creation and management of protected areas, I am perhaps more aware than most of the unexamined foundations of what it means to “do conservation.”

People don’t conserve places, nor do they conserve particular cultural practices—they conserve values that they associate with places and practices. I believe the key to understanding conservation’s meaning is to think of it as a cultural technique that people use to ensure the continuity of values that are important to them. It’s not the only way of doing this: perpetuating a religious or spiritual observance, maintaining one’s family traditions, teaching a young child to speak her grandmother’s native language, or learning and carrying on a traditional craft are other examples, and there are many more. The technique of conservation involves, first, identifying values in nature or culture (or, as readers of Langscape Magazine are particularly concerned with, the fusing of both into a single biocultural complex); second, persuading other people to recognize them; and third, convincing people to make very specific restrictions in their behavior so as to perpetuate them.

Aside from working on protected areas, I have also spent more than twenty years thinking and writing about biocultural diversity. One thing that has become apparent to me over this time is that communities are the “unit of selection” (to borrow an evolutionary term) when it comes to biocultural diversity conservation. Yes, individual champions are important, tremendously so, and the support of national and international organizations is unquestionably helpful. But the community level is where the perfect marriage of personal commitment and collective action is found, for it is communities that are the front-line stewards and protectors of special places and revered traditions. They too are the engines for innovative thinking and action that refresh the meanings—the values—of the biocultural presence that, ultimately, animate all of life on Earth.

The contributions to this issue of Langscape Magazine offer many angles on community-led biocultural diversity conservation. Here is a quick tour.

The “Ideas” section of this issue opens with a challenge from Ilarion (Larry) Merculieff and Libby Roderick to non-Indigenous people to rethink, from the ground up, how language works in the world. Drawing on the linguistic understandings and practices of the Unangan (Aleuts) communities of Alaska’s Pribilof Islands, as well as those of other Indigenous peoples, the authors argue in a direct and powerful way that words are not just abstractions but entities with intrinsic power that “must be chosen and used with utmost care.”

Cultivating and securing a sense of belonging is probably one of the most important motivators for biocultural stewards. As Duncan Haynes, Michelle Cocks, and Charlie Shackleton relate, amaXhosa urban residents in South Africa’s townships often infuse the spaces in and around their dwellings with rituals, plantings, and agricultural practices that replicate traditions from ancestral rural areas. These biocultural gestures serve to make their new house a “spiritual home” that is shared with ancestors.

The next three articles highlight inventive approaches that communities and their collaborators are developing to safeguard biocultural diversity. One of the great strengths of a community biocultural perspective is that it drills down into rich stores of local facts that contradict stereotypes. Pernilla Malmer and Prasert Trakansuphakon’s explication of the sustainable agricultural methods of a northern Thailand community is a textbook case. Rotational farming (often denigrated as “slash and burn”) tends to be condemned by Western conservationists as an environmental disaster, but the people of Hin Lad Nai have systematically pioneered rotational techniques centered on a versatile local tree species that belie such conventional wisdom. In a different kind of innovation, Gabriel Nemogá, Justico Domicó, and Alejandro Molina helped the Embera people of Colombia create their own biocultural protocols, “sets of rules and responsibilities that communities design to preserve their worldviews, values, knowledge, and spiritual relations with nature.” Through a community-driven process, these guidelines promise to help the Embera maintain their identity in the teeth of outside homogenizing

EDITORIAL

Valued DifferencesDavid Harmon

W


forces. Echoing some of the issues raised by Merculieff and Roderick, Thomas Dean King closes with a discussion about the work that the nongovernmental organization Marine Conservation without Borders is doing in conjunction with a variety of Caribbean communities to translate marine science concepts and conservation principles into local languages—thereby vastly increasing their relevance to local people.

The three contributions to the “Reflections” section call to us from the inner experiences of the respective authors. By immersing himself “in an integration of ancient Hawaiian ahupua’a resource wisdom and our modern ecological management,” Harvy King makes a personal endorsement of the responsibility “to live up to and maintain your values—to hold on to your ancestral line.” In a powerfully incised—and incisive—verse titled “Into This Processed Woven Land,” the poet Momoe Malietoa von Reiche asks us to mourn “a fractured landscape/Nervous leftovers of/Cultural powerlines” whose harmony, if it once existed at all, is now lost through human neglect. This section concludes with a thoughtful essay by Jessica Brown who deftly combines an account of her personal journey toward a biocultural perspective with similar recent developments on one of conservation’s biggest stages: the World Heritage Convention.

Turning to “Dispatches” from communities around the world, Yolanda López-Maldonado shares her perspective as a Maya woman on the continuing importance of cenotes—sinkholes that provide not only life-sustaining water to rural communities in Mexico’s Yucatán peninsula, but also vital spiritual connections to the landscape. Fish, and the entire cultural panoply that surrounds the enterprise of fishing, is the ancestral connection described in the article by Joakim Boström, Anna-Märta Henriksson, and Marie Kvarnström. A community-based organization called Kustringen, representing fishing villages in an archipelago in the far north of Sweden, is advocating for local environmental knowledge to be considered alongside Western scientific judgments in environmental policymaking by the national government.

In a photo essay, Laurent Jean Pierre introduces us to the Sweeping Dance of the Caribbean nation of St. Lucia, which depends equally on the conservation of an endangered species of palm and on the continuance of broom-making as an artisanal craft and industry. A different kind of creativity is related by Marina Aman Sham in her account of the Dusun of Ulu Papar, Malaysia, who are recording in written form several oral histories and tales of strength, conflict, and peacemaking on their territory as told by community elders.

Fassil Gebeyehu Yelemtu takes us on a personal journey of remembrance through his boyhood spent in various communities in

Ethiopia. In each one, he found himself lifted up when peers shared their own experiences growing up in rural areas—foodways, farming wisdom, plant knowledge, and so on—which imparted a feeling of solidarity in what might otherwise have been an isolating time. The next “Dispatch” is from Italy, where the ancient handball game palla a 21 has served to galvanize an entire rural valley to embrace traditions in danger of being lost. The upshot, as Andrea Giacomelli explains, is that valued and venerable cultural practices are being used as a springboard to new means of prosperity. This section ends with an account by Emmeline Topp of the battle to save the biocultural fabric of a globally rare landscape element, the renosterveld of South Africa’s Western Cape region. Maintaining this “living connection to the local ecosystem” requires both the protection of the “renosterveld biodiversity itself and its potential value for people.”

Two “web extras”—digital-only articles that are available exclusively online—round out this issue. Michaela Jeannaisse Carter tells of her efforts to assist the peoples of the Bama First Nations living in what is now called Queensland to re-embed their place names on the maps of (and in the consciousness of ) non-Indigenous Australians. Finally, Soner Oruç & Ceren Kazancı offer a joyful, enthusiastic account of their quest to document and honor the traditional knowledge associated with the highlands of the Western Lesser Caucasus mountains along the Georgia–Turkey border.

At the beginning of this editorial, I referred to conservation as a “cultural technique” to call out the fact that it is a tool that does indeed vary across cultures, even though as a kind of conceptual shorthand, it is often presented as something good and desirable that floats free, untethered to local situations. I hope that the images, narratives, and poetry gathered in this edition of Langscape Magazine will inspire you to think about the conservation of biocultural diversity in new ways and to support the efforts communities are making all over the world to ensure that the values at stake never disappear.

For retrospective overviews on the development and application of the concept of biocultural diversity, you may wish to take a look at two past Langscape Magazine articles, which are now available on our reading platform on Medium at http://bit.ly/2HEbenP and http://bit.ly/2sOR5qm

Bioculturally yours,

David HarmonGuest Editor, Langscape Magazine

Co-founder, Terralingua


Thomas Dean King

Marine Conservation without Borders (MCwB) is a nongovernmental organization that translates scientific ideas into oral languages that currently lack words to express such concepts. MCwB’s Executive Director, Robert C. “Robby” Thigpen, has built a network of collaborators among a diversity of linguistic communities and conservation advocates throughout the Caribbean. MCwB draws on this network in its journey to develop a more authentic, relevant, and effective marine conservation education curriculum. This story will focus on how Robby came to recognize an issue with how conservation science education is approached in the Caribbean and what MCwB is doing to address this need.

The story begins in Belize. Robby first visited in 2004, interning with the Northern Fishermen’s Cooperative Society. He brought a blend of marine biology and cultural anthropology, integrating knowledge and methods from each discipline to learn about and from the fishers and the ecosystems from which they draw their livelihoods. “Carrying out my investigation in this manner allowed me to learn from the traditional ecological knowledge of these fishers,” Robby says. “These shared learning experiences gave me insight into things about their families, local fishing mechanisms, and the education system that I could not have otherwise learned.”

Returning to Belize frequently to visit the fishing families he lived with and worked among, Robby has watched the children in these families grow up; the school-aged children he knew are now having their own families, and those who were infants are now in school. One of his favorite ways to pass the evenings was helping his host families’ children with homework. It was from this vantage point that he learned about the education system. Robby began picking up on difficulties they had with some assignments. The challenges were not the difficulty of the subject matter, but instead related to language differences between home and school, between the language people use to talk and that used in textbooks.

During this time, he also noticed that there was little conservation science in the schools’ curriculum, and marine conservation science was nearly absent. For a region that is defined by its proximity to and dependence on the Caribbean Sea, it was clear this was a need to be addressed. Robby became singularly focused on bringing the language of science and concepts of conservation to the languages of Belizeans’ homes. He found that other

THE COLLABORATIVE WORK OF CARIBBEAN COMMUNITIES AND MARINE CONSERVATION WITHOUT BORDERS

A New Approach to Bilingual Marine Conservation

Science Education

Above: The Garifuna community is the only one allowed to fish in Cayos Cochinos, Honduras. Mario Flores Aranda is promoting sustainable fishing, using a line loop for live

capture so that undersize lobsters may be released unharmed. Photo: Antonio Busiello, 2015


people agreed with his observations. This was the start of the expansive network he has built, and through it, he has confirmed his concerns with people in communities from Mexico’s Yucatán to Honduras to Colombia. He also found that academic research on the issue supported what he was hearing from MCwB project collaborators.

One thread in this research suggests that people tend to reject new information when it is presented in a secondary language, especially when they perceive a negative bias and when that bias reflects poorly on their language or culture. Simply put, people tend to reject what they don’t understand, especially when they see themselves poorly represented. Students who are more comfortable in their mother tongue may be perceiving language exclusion from a monolinguistic curriculum as a negative bias, thereby not engaging with subjects in the classroom or even rejecting the content outright.

“Garifuna people communicate better and more accurately and effectively in their own language;

therefore, [not having materials in Garifuna leads] to confusion and misunderstanding of the message

about solutions to these natural resources and environmental issues.”

—Rony Figueroa, Garifuna American Heritage Foundation United; MCwB Editor

Moreover, students are very unlikely to take these “foreign” concepts home to their parents or siblings. As a result, students (and parents) may develop

a resistance to the lessons being taught. The result is low engagement and lack of ownership or connection with fundamental concepts supporting biocultural diversity conservation goals. Parents and adults working as fishers may share a tendency to reject new fishery or environmental regulations—not because they disagree with the goals or rules themselves, but because they do not understand them when not presented in their home language. Without understanding and engaging in the issues threatening

Zaida Majil and Robby Thigpen study an early draft of the Treasures collection in Kriol. Zaida, now in her 20s with her own children, helps MCwB with ethno-translating of

Kriol. Photo: Robby Thigpen, 2009

Treasures of the Caribbean book cover in Kriol for Belize showing fishing boats mooring in Belize River near the Swing Bridge, Belize City. Photo: Robby Thigpen, 2012

Mangrove Ecosystems book cover in Wayuunaiki for Colombia; Aminta Paláez Guariyu and Alvaro Andrés Moreno Munar, ethno-translators. Photo: Madison Heltzel, 2018


biocultural diversity in their communities, opportunities to identify locally appropriate solutions may be lost. This is worrisome because food security and livelihoods depend upon healthy marine ecosystems, the basis for sustainable fishing and tourism.

So, what is to be done? At MCwB, we think there is a better way to develop curricula for linguistically diverse classrooms to make learning more accessible and, in the process, promote greater engagement and understanding among students and communities. First, MCwB aims to make marine conservation science concepts accessible by developing books in local languages with relevant examples highlighting livelihoods and ecosystems with which students are familiar (landscapes, animals, fish, and plants). This approach provides a secondary benefit of promoting the goals of biocultural diversity. Putting local languages in school curricula contributes to language and cultural preservation and engages students by elevating their languages and traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) to an equal place with national languages of instruction (LOI) and associated knowledge of conservation science.

“Western science concepts can be difficult to understand. [What MCwB is doing] is a better way; it takes our local

knowledge and treats it like it is important.”

—Hilario Poot Cahun, Universidad Intercultural Maya de Quintana Roo; MCwB ethno-translator

MCwB’s mission is to bring conservation science to people in and on their own terms so they may more easily understand it and use it in their lives. This approach provides Indigenous and historically marginalized language groups new tools to foster civic engagement in conservation issues. MCwB’s initial program, Treasures of the Caribbean, is a series of lessons designed to teach conservation science concepts in a bilingual format tailored to communities with Indigenous, Creole, and Afro-Caribbean languages.

To develop these books, we rely on two types of contributors: ethno-translators and TEK experts. Using local specialized skills and knowledge helps ensure the final products are derived from the communities who will use them. The bilingual format presents one home language paired with a national LOI. Getting the translations right is the most difficult part and relies on a process to create neologisms (new words) for conservation science concepts in the home languages. Drawing on Robby’s network, we build collaborative working groups for each book. We look for people from each geo-linguistic area to participate as ethno-translators and TEK experts.

Creating authentic and relevant neologisms is important because they are what bring together TEK with scientific concepts in the home language. Robby explains that “these fishers know these systems intimately,” but “their traditional ecological knowledge does not always fully account for new and persistent negative external pressures.” TEK and scientific knowledge are more powerful together. By bringing them together, people can begin seeing them as equally important perspectives in understanding locally defined issues and problems. In this way, our work functions as a leveling mechanism, flattening historically unequal relationships by explicitly placing communities’ TEK and home languages on an even footing with national languages and institutions.

The Treasures project is providing a way to blend local TEK with scientific knowledge through well-designed and authentic bilingual curricula so that students can discuss conservation in their home language. The process produces a culturally relevant and more accessible translation. When learning is relevant and accessible to students, they are better engaged to understand the concepts and interact with the subject matter.

“It allows us to embrace our language and understand and comprehend these concepts as if they were our own.

Learning from a book made for a Kriol audience will be great. There won’t be any barriers for not understanding.”

—Celeste Castillo, Student, University of Belize, Belize City; MCwB Ethno-translator

When people see and experience their home language presented on an equal footing with the dominant LOIs, it establishes a relationship and sense of ownership to the concepts. Our project collaborators emphasize ownership and how they are empowered when they see their mother tongues represented alongside “official” languages.

Rony Figueroa of the Garifuna American Heritage Foundation United expressed these values while editing the Mangrove Ecosystems book in Garifuna: “I feel positive, empowered, and proud . . . It’s inclusive,” adding, “It will help [us] take ownership [of these concepts] in the effort of conservation, and it will entice more Garinagu to get involved . . . It will give the Garifuna people a sense of ownership.”

“I self-identify with the project because the project takes into account the culture and language of the Garinagu

and our knowledge of the sea.” —Elmer Mauricio Enríquez, Úara Garifuna; MCwB Ethno-translator

By representing home languages in school, people feel as if they are being invited to participate. They may be more open to engage in discussion because they see how it can be done in their home language, in many cases for the first time.

UNESCO’s policy paper If You Don’t Understand, How Can You Learn? summarizes research on learning gaps for students in multicultural communities where many children speak a mother tongue that is not the dominant LOI in classrooms. The paper emphasizes the importance of developing “linguistic diversity within educational systems” and documents three challenges in this endeavor to improve learning outcomes. MCwB’s approach meets two of these challenges—curriculum development and the provisioning of teaching—head on and, at the same time, mitigates the problem of teacher recruitment.

Curricula development is the primary focus of the Treasures collection. We plan to facilitate distribution through our website and in targeted outreach to communities. Teacher recruitment is a need because it is difficult to find qualified teachers proficient in Indigenous language materials. While MCwB is not equipped to place teachers across the Caribbean, our bilingual materials mitigate the need by making books that use multiple languages accessible.


Consider Livingston, Guatemala, where the LOI is Spanish. Livingston is home to Maya and Garinagu people, whose home languages are Q’eqchi’ and Garifuna. Imagine the difficulty of finding teachers proficient in two of these three languages, much less in all three and with subject matter experience in biology, ecology, or another subject. Now imagine the students and teachers having conservation science curriculum in bilingual combinations of Garifuna/Spanish and Q’eqchi’/Spanish. A local teacher proficient in one language with basic experience in one or more of the others may lead a class in their own primary language while the students follow in the language with which they are most comfortable.

“I think it helps because people feel you really are talking to them . . . to their hearts not just their minds; also it facilitates understanding even more. . . . It is another

tool to reach out to people in a way that respects their home language and makes them more ready to

internalize the information.” —Silvaana Udz, The National Kriol Council of Belize & Ming Chuan

University, Taiwan; MCwB Ethno-translator

The challenges our project contributors shared about biocultural diversity conservation issues facing their communities centered around two main themes: moving from awareness to action and negotiating difficult choices between traditional and commercial livelihoods. Although people have awareness of conservation issues, they do not take consistent action to eliminate or mitigate the risks and threats to biocultural diversity in their communities.

Commercialization of traditional livelihoods and development of new livelihood options make for difficult choices for people looking to earn a wage and put food on the table, to say nothing of seemingly mundane things like how to dispose of their trash. The challenges also cut deeper, as these issues emerge at the intersection of cultural traditions and economic opportunity, where people experience conflict within themselves and with one another when making livelihood and conservation decisions.

Rony Figueroa explained that people are aware of the need to protect the environment, but they feel constrained by tough choices. This is especially acute for the smaller fishers and their traditional livelihoods, who must deal with resource scarcity in the face of industrial commercial competition: “There is no information in Garifuna language on how to protect and nurture fish and fishing. [There is a gap in] knowledge on how to protect and harvest conch, lobster, etc.”

While the books comprising the Treasures collection are a promising contribution to biocultural diversity conservation, they are not a solution in themselves. The books in our Treasures curriculum are tools to help communities help themselves. They are

a foundation to make information and learning more accessible so that people are better equipped to engage within and across community and language boundaries to work together in finding and negotiating solutions. With new tools in their language, people might be equipped to move from awareness to action and feel they can be part of the solutions rather than feeling stuck in the daily struggles of living with the consequences of others’ solutions for them. Our hope is that our efforts will germinate more robust and vibrant community action, whereby people may be more empowered to engage in issues of biocultural diversity to find solutions on their terms—solutions of, for, and by the people who need them most.

Trash disposal is a big problem throughout the Caribbean. Crocodiles, seen here feeding on trash left behind Ambergris Caye, Belize, have become dependent on human refuse. Photo: Miriam Boucher, 2015

Thomas Dean King serves on the board of directors of Marine Conservation without Borders. He has worked in the Northern Lagoon of Belize with the fishermen of Caye Caulker, where he explored the interdependency between the management of two common pool resources vital to the community’s resilience: the lobster fishery and the provisioning of credit to members of the fishing cooperative.

To learn more about and support Marine Conservation with Borders and the Treasures of the Caribbean projects, visit https://marinefrontiers.org/ where you can meet our international team of collaborators, read about the projects, and explore ways to get involved.

Further Reading

Ellis, C., Thierry, G., Vaughan-Evans, A., & Jones, M. (2017). Languages flex cultural thinking: Cultural perception in bilinguals. Bilingualism, 21(2), 219–227.

Nair, S. K. (2015). Mother tongue in the discourse of primary education: A cognitive approach. International Journal of Mind, Brain & Cognition, 6(1–2).

UNESCO. (2003). Education in a multilingual world (UNESCO Education Position Paper). Retrieved from http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001297/129728e.pdf

UNESCO. (2016). If you don’t understand, how can you learn? (Policy Paper #24, Global Education Ministering Report). Retrieved from http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0024/002437/243713e.pdf


Terralingua n 1: the languages of the Earth, the many voices of the world’s diverse peoples. 2: the language of the Earth, the voice of Mother Nature. 3: an international non-governmental organization (NGO) that works to sustain the biocultural diversity of life – a precious heritage to be cherished, protected, and nurtured for generations to come. ¶ From Italian terra ‘earth’ and lingua ‘language’

www.terralingua.org

LANGSCAPE MAGAZINE VOLUME 7, ISSUE 2, WINTER 2018

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“A growing critique from civil society, not least Indigenous peoples, also underlines the need to shift from heritage as an exclusive expert domain towards one building on local community

perspectives and values that often defy narrow nature–culture distinctions. Where nature conservation just a few decades ago was dominated by natural scientists and management

experts, it today includes Indigenous and local community voices often stressing interlinkages through local knowledge, livelihood practices, and age-old landscape connections.”

—Peter Bille Larsen and Gamini Wijesuriya, as cited by Jessica Brown

langscape magazine is a...turning to “dispatches” from communities around the world, yolanda...

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