Dandansoy, bayaan ta icao

Pauli aco sa Payao

Ugaling con icao hidlauon

Ang Payaw imo lang lantauon

Dandansoy, con imo apason

Bisan tubig di magbalon

Ugaling con icao uhauon

Sa dalan magbobonbobon.

Convento, diin ang cura?

Municipio, diin justicia?

Yari si dansoy maqueja.

Maqueja sa paghigugma

Ang panyo mo cag panyo co

Dala diri cay tambijon co

Ugaling con magcasilo

Bana ta icao, asawa mo aco.

Indigenous Science

March 2009

Author

Juliana Birnbaum Fox

Experts in New Orleans believe that erosion was a major reason behind the failure of levees in Hurrican
Katrina. One of the approaches being used to prevent future failures is not the high-tech solution that
might be expected. Instead, it is a simple, inexpensive technique used for centuries by indigenous
farmers in South India: planting vetiver grass. Historically planted to mark borders and help maintain
moisture and nutrients in soil, this ancient technology has been used successfully over the past decade
to clean up toxic waste and prevent erosion in dozens of countries. This is just one of thousands of
examples—medical, social, and ecological—of indigenous science solving contemporary problems.

Indigenous solutions like these are being brought forward through a system called permaculture. The
concept of permaculture was developed in the 1970s by Australians Bill Mollison and David Holmgren,
whose work focused on perennial farming practices that make use of nature’s patterns and
relationships. As the name suggests, permaculture aims to create permanent agriculture as well as
permanent human culture by cultivating a regenerative relationship between people and the earth,
using both old and new techniques. More a way of approaching problems than a fixed set of steps, its
principles can be used to restore degraded landscapes, create self-sustaining food production cycles,
and even significantly combat global warming through soil building and no-plow farming methods.

From its roots as an agro-ecological design theory, permaculture has grown a large following that
continues to expand on the original ideas through a network of trainings, publications, permaculture
gardens, and Internet forums. With projects in at least 75 countries around the world, it has become
both a design system and a lifestyle ethic. And indigenous traditions play a central role in its success.

A Way of Cultural Resistance

Pine Ridge, an Oglala Lakota(Sioux) reservation in South Dakota, has long been associated with native
resistance, holding a unique place in the history of indigenous struggle. Today Pine Ridge is notorious for
being the most impoverished reservation in the United States, with an adolescent suicide rate four times
the national average, unemployment around 80 percent, and many residents without access to energy
or clean water. Although there is a good deal of agricultural production on the reservation, according to
the USDA only a small percentage of tribal members benefit directly from it.
Guillermo Vasquez, a Nahuat and Mayan activist, leads Indigenous Permaculture, an organization that is
partnering with Pine Ridge residents to develop a local food security project using ecological design
principles. The organization is a cooperative of indigenous groups, including Nahuat, Lakota, Shuar, and
Maya, as well as non-Native people. Its mission is to share indigenous farming practices and apply
environmentally and culturally appropriate technology, in ways that build capacity within the
community.

“The goal,” according to the Indigenous Permaculture mission statement, “is to share information,
build relationships, and establish a local, organic food source for residents, inspired by indigenous
peoples’ understanding of how to live in place.”

At Pine Ridge, Lakota project leader Wilmer Mesteth has been leading the development of the Wounjupi
garden and of systems like water catchment and greywater recycling, seed saving, and composting. The
initiative sees local food security as a path to confronting poverty and health issues such as diabetes,
and is creating a community-supported-agriculture program. A greenhouse has been built; medicinal
plants are being cultivated; and workshops are held for residents on perennial agriculture techniques.
Last year, there was an excellent harvest, with enough produce to give to families and elders in the
community and share with an elders gathering in Montana. While grasshoppers destroyed many other
crops on the reservation, the Wounjupi garden saw little damage, probably as a result of the
permaculture technique of planting flowers that attract beneficial insects that prey on pests.

“We’re seeing a major change in the soil due to the addition of organic matter,” Vasquez reported.
“It’s much darker and richer, and the vegetables are starting to grow really well.” This kind of soil
building also has larger positive implications. As a “carbon sink,” soil holds carbon as organic matter,
reducing levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere (the cause of global warming). Allan J. Yeomans
writes in Priority One that if the soil fertility of the Great Plains that was destroyed in the past 150 years
were to be restored, atmospheric levels of carbon dioxide would be reduced to close to pre-industrial
levels. On a global scale, the same results would be achieved if organic matter levels of the world’s
agricultural and grazing lands were increased by 1.6 percent.

Vasquez speaks about permaculture as a new form of activism and a healing process. “Up until now,”
he says, “educators and universities haven’t recognize indigenous science, and what we’re talking
about in this program is indigenous science. So what we’re trying to do here is to share a little about
how people can make change, create their own positive solutions to live.”
Vasquez sees the potential of permaculture as a universal philosophy that builds bridges between
contemporary and Native cultures through indigenous science. It also has the capacity to strengthen
alliances among Native groups, both through its network for traditional knowledge sharing and as a
common term for the environmental ethic shared by aboriginal cultures worldwide. “Permaculture is a
way of cultural resistance,” he says. “Perhaps the way I plant trees or grow food for my family is the
way to create a real green revolution and make change.”

“We work the land together instead of fighting about it”

Permaculture trainings have been held in many countries around the world. An innovative program in
Israel, called Bustan, brings Arabs, Jews, and Bedouins together for sliding-scale permaculture courses.
Directed by Bedouin activist Ra’ed Al Mickawi, the courses combine teaching practical techniques in
natural building, water catchment, and traditional agriculture with peace building.

“It is connected to peace, in that we work the land together instead of fighting about it,” says Petra
Feldman, a resident of Hava ve Adam, the permaculture center that hosted the training, where Israeli
youth work for a year as an alternative to military service. Her husband, Chaim Feldman, began a
collaboration with Palestinian farmers on traditional agriculture. They have shared irrigation techniques,
drought-resistant heirloom seeds, and other permaculture practices that allow farmers with restricted
access to land to grow more intensively in smaller spaces.

“The closest thing in the world to the principles of permaculture I’m learning in this course are the
principles of traditional Bedouin culture,” says Haled Eloubra, a Bedouin community leader and green
architect who attended a Bustan course in May 2008. “It’s the way that you approach nature: in a
practical way. In winter in Bedouin culture, you sit by the fire, cook, make tea, tell stories, and use it for
many things. Each family had a well that collected rainwater and used it for the herd. Near the house
you’d have chickens, a dog, camels, all living together as a system. Unfortunately, since we were
moved to cities, it has been difficult for us to continue in the old ways.”

Eloubra plans to work on building a “green kindergarten” when he finishes the permaculture course.
After getting his degree in architecture, he decided he was committed to creating a building that would
be truly useful for his community. He focused on what he felt was most needed in the Bedouin
settlements—educational facilities—and realized kindergarten would be the best place to start.
“We have not stopped,” Vasquez says, “because we have seen positive results: food, increased
biodiversity, grey-water systems, community gardens, sustainable energy. These have made the
program move ahead. I swim in the rivers, I smell the pure air, so why shouldn’t our children have the
right to do these things? We must consider the next generations. That’s why we do this work.”

Juliana Birnbaum Fox was trained as a cultural anthropologist. For the past 12 years she has been a
freelance writer focusing on environmental issues and social justice. In 2005 she founded Voices in
Solidarity, a nonprofit organization that builds partnerships with Native-led environmental and social
projects in the Amazon rainforest.