An Indigenous Perspective on Climate Change

Greenland, also known as Kallaalit Nunaat by the local Inuit peoples, is the "Ground Zero" of climate change. Its geographic location and expansive ice sheets make it extremely vulnerable to climate change, resulting in disproportionate impacts for those who live there. Greenland's population is extremely dispersed, with a majority being Inuit, who live in communities organized around subsistence hunting. Using dog sleds and boats resembling kayaks, the Inuit hunt seals, walrus, narwhal, polar bears and other Arctic animals.
 

In general, the lifestyle of the Inuit communities paired with the environmental conditions of Greenland create a multi-layered vulnerability to climate change. Rising sea levels increase coastal erosion, while melting ice inhibits travel, hunting and other subsistence activities. The mixture of snow and thinner ice makes traditional travel paths extremely unreliable for dog sleds and snowmobiles, increasing isolation and immobility. Increasingly, Inuit are being forced to seek modernized work opportunities, driven out of generational hunting traditions due to climate change and the resulting economic insecurity. This has had devastating impacts on Inuit communities, particularly young men who can no longer partake in traditional hunting.
 

The spiritual significance of climate change

Inuit shaman Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq speaks about the spiritual significance of climate change at international conferences around the world. Angaangaq is a traditional healer, storyteller and carrier of the Qilaut (wind drum), whose  family belongs to the traditional healers of the Far North from Greenland. His name means 'The Man Who Looks Like His Uncle'. Since he was a child he was trained by his family--especially by his Grandmother Aanakasaa--for becoming a shaman. The spiritual task given by his mother is: "Melting the Ice in the Heart of Man."

 

Angaangaq bridges the boundaries of cultures and faiths in people young and old. His work has taken him to over 70 countries around the world. He conducts circles, seminars and Aalaartiviit--traditional sweat lodges. His teachings are deeply rooted in the wisdom of the oral healing traditions of his people, which enabled people over thousands of years to survive in one of the harshest places on Earth.
 

In an interview with LifeGate, Angaangaq shared an Indigenous perspective on climate change. Everyone talks about climate change but nobody talks about its spiritual significance. "According to the old people, a third of the population on Earth will vanish," says Angaangaq, "they say many people will die, some will barely survive, and few will have a life." His message is very powerful as it is not just about Mother Earth, who is ever-changing, it is about human lives--and we have never been so many.
 

"The ice is a living thing, you can see it in my grandmother's village. In the summer it breaks and explodes and when water gushes out you can't hear anything but that. Sometimes when there's a storm the waves are so strong that they can spew chunks of ice several kilometres away. Ice that weighs a ton," he says. The difference now is not only in our numbers but in what we have done to the Earth: "We've raped Mother Earth, taken all her resources and we're still doing it without considering the impact it can have on our personal life."
 

Angaangaq also believes that while we often talk about animals as inferior creatures we don't realize that they have a much greater capacity of adaption than us. For example, we can only live in a temperature range of 100 degrees Celsius, whereas that range is as high as 200 degrees for polar bears. "We can't adapt to hot weather, they can. Isn't that so interesting?" Angaangaq ponders.
 

Becoming the hope
 

"The changes are so bad that we can no longer save the world, we can no longer stop the melting of the big ice," confides Angaangaq. "The only thing I can think of now is to somehow find the strength and capacity within myself to become the hope. Not because I'm better than anyone else but because as a grandfather I hope that my grandchildren will have a life worth enjoying, with beauty everywhere, where you kill animals without forgetting to say thank you, where you grow what you eat, and I want to find other people willing to change their lives to be that hope."
 

"Right now the government doesn't talk about this, nor do the activists. You're just one name out of several billion but, really, you have a beautiful spirit and you're worth knowing and doing something for! The land will sink, this is a fact, what will they do with you when the ocean comes? As my father used to say, we know so much but comprehend so little."
 

The melting of the Arctic ice sheets is a call for us to reflect on the spiritual significance of climate change and our way of living. It's time to look with eyes of faith into our future and believe we can make a difference. If we have hope, there is potential for extraordinary change--things will survive. The Indigenous elders teach us if we return to harmony in our lives, melting the ice in our hearts, reconnecting with one another, we will survive. It is time to use this knowledge to help mankind.

The Pueblo Jewelers of the Southwest

In the world of Pueblo artisans, the jewelry makers are second in number to the pottery makers. Over the generations, this ancient craft has taken on numerous forms. On the meticulous end of the spectrum, there are those who make tiny beads, called heishi, first produced at today's Santo Domingo (Kewa) Pueblo in prehistoric times, with hand-pump drills and stone drill bits, and then strung as necklaces. From there, Pueblo jewelry runs from semi-precious stones set in silver to contemporary works, made with gold and precious gemstones. In between are tufa-castings (a process using a carved volcanic stone as a mold for molten silver or gold); hammered metal; handmade silver beads; choruses of tiny bird effigies carved from stone and strung; classic concho belts; large seashells covered in mosaic stonework; and some of the most prized lapidary work in the world, famously done by Zuni Pueblo artists. There are works in stainless steel cut to a fine edge, "shadow boxes" (where a design is cut out of a sheet of burnished silver, which is then affixed to an underlying piece of blackened silver, thereby creating an image in negative space), as well as bracelets, rings, bolo ties, and belt buckles, all worn today by design-savvy buyers from around the world.
 

Steve LaRance, of Hopi and Assiniboine heritage, gets his tufa on the Hopi Reservation from deposits created by the San Francisco Peaks. To gather what he needs, he has to drive a four-wheel drive pickup, find an isolated spot, and spend a day digging with shovels and picks. The tufa comes out in chunks, in sizes that range from bowling ball to suitcase. This will generally provide enough raw material for a year's work.
 

Steve and his wife and jewelry-making partner, Marian Denipah, moved from Arizona some years back to Marian's homelands, just a stone's throw from the lazy Rio Grande on Ohkay Owingeh land in northern New Mexico. In addition to their various lines of jewelry, they have also produced a batch of children and grandchildren that have made marks of their own. One daughter is a physician; another, along with her brother, spent a decade as principal dancers for Cirque du Soleil. Today, Steve and Marian oversee a Native youth dance troupe called the Lightning Boy Foundation, which travels the world in an effort to spread Pueblo values and skills.

 

Santo Domingo is one of the Rio Grande Pueblos in Northern New Mexico. For centuries the Pueblo people have been mining turquoise at Cerrillos, south of what is now Santa Fe, and have been acquiring other turquoise from as far away as Nevada, California and Colorado.

The Pueblo jewelers traveled south to the Gulf and west to the Pacific for shell when they couldn't trade for it. Jet and red colored rock was found nearby and used in mosaics and other jewelry. Eventually coral was introduced by the Spanish and replaced the red rock. These colorful stones were made into beads and mosaics for decoration and ceremonies.

The people of Santo Domingo became known for making the best disc beads and, along with the Zuni people, for producing the best inlay in turquoise, jet, shell and coral on shell and wood bases. The jewelers of Santo Domingo still produce the finest handmade beads and mosaics. Many of their children acquire drills and learn to make beads at a very young age. You can shop online for authentic Pueblo jewelry at PuebloDirect.com.

The Pueblo Potters of the Southwest

Pottery, the most sought after Pueblo art today, is being made by thousands of Native clay artists, many of whom still dig, clean, and age their own clay, as well as hand-shape and coil-build pottery without the use of a potter's wheel. Potters then decorate their works with mineral and clay slips they prepare themselves, or by carving into the clay. Finally, they fire their clay outdoors in the open air, rather than in a kiln.
 

This is the age-old process used by Jody Naranjo, one of the most well-known contemporary Pueblo potters. Naranjo grew up at Santa Clara Pueblo, but moved to Albuquerque years ago to pursue a career in professional art. She still returns to the Pueblo for ceremonies and to fire her distinctive pottery. Naranjo's work is distinguished by intricately etched surfaces, portraying everything from fine geometric patterns to quaint scenes of people and Pueblo life, as well as a variety of animals, birds, and fish.
 

Naranjo consciously carries on ancient traditional techniques. In her pottery, which is always unglazed, Naranjo aims for a natural color that she describes as "rich chocolate brown." To get that tone, she encloses the pots in thin sheets of metal before firing the pottery on a brick. "Some people even use old metal cafeteria trays, or put the work inside metal milk crates," she says. Then she surrounds her pots with chunks of cedar, and sets the whole thing afire. "It burns hot and fast," she notes.
 

Most modern pottery is made from very different clay that requires overnight firings in intensely hot gas or electric kilns, but Naranjo's firings take no more than 30 to 45 minutes. "I have no idea of the temperature, because we don't use thermometers, but I've learned to judge the heat by observation," she says. About 5 to 10 minutes before the pots are done, she covers them with cow manure, which has been dried until it's fluffy.
 

"Some people use shredded newspaper," she says, "some horsehair." The manure blanket blocks the fire's source of oxygen, a step that darkens the pots. If she lets this stage go too far, the pots turn black, a distinct style in itself that some buyers prefer. If the goal is to retain the natural reds in the clay that Pueblo potters traditionally use, this step is skipped entirely, but if you're aiming for some combination -- for example, swirls of black on a red pot -- Naranjo says, "you put a whole cow pie against the pot."
 

The process, however, is not foolproof. Because these firings are done outdoors over a wood fire, without the controlled conditions inside a kiln, wind and humidity levels can create havoc, causing the pottery to crack or explode. To avoid such catastrophes, Naranjo tries to fire in either the mornings or evenings, which are the calmest times of day in her area. But even that's not always enough. "I've often waited a week or more to fire," she says. "It's so tricky. All your work can be gone in a minute!" While studying her craft, Naranjo says, she had her grandmother "giving me advice at every step. Still, I've made mistakes and heard the pots exploding in the fire. Then I just cry."