Deusdedit Ruhangariyo
ICT
Around the world: Skolt Sámi fight to save language and reclaim culture; Amazon study links Indigenous lands to public health; Kwanlin Dün harvest strengthens food sovereignty in Canada’s North; Indigenous accountant-of-the-year redefines path to leadership in Australia; and Wild coast communities confront Shell in constitutional court in South Africa.
FINLAND: Skolt Sámi fight to save language, reclaim culture
At the Siida Museum in Inari, Finland, the Skolt Sámi gathered for Community Day, not just to celebrate but to fight for the survival of their language and culture. The September 15 event brought together three major projects: Ouraspray/OUMMU RÂÂST RAAJ, MÁHTUT, and Sääʹpääʹljes. Each project carries the same mission – to ensure that the Skolt Sámi language, once suppressed by colonization and assimilation, is not lost forever, The Barents Observer reported on September 15.
For Hanna-Maria Kiprianoff, director of the Skolt Sámi Museum in Neiden, the answer is clear. “Because it’s part of the culture!” she says when asked why the language must survive. She explains that Skolt Sámi carries knowledge that cannot be expressed in other tongues. “It is the unwritten history of the people. Therefore, it needs to be brought back into use. Culture cannot live without language, and language cannot live without culture.”
The challenges are immense. For decades, Skolt Sámi communities were told to abandon their words and identities. “We didn’t lose it on our own – it’s a result of colonisation,” Hanna-Maria recalls. “We were told: You must be Norwegian, Finnish, or Russian, and forget the language. In Finland, my father was told that such a language does not exist. In Norway, two entire generations did not learn it. That’s why it’s so important to bring it back.”
Today, the numbers remain dire. In Norway, only 10-12 speakers remain; Finland counts around 300; Russia had fewer than 50 before the full-scale war in Ukraine cut off cooperation. Hanna-Maria warns that political borders, once again, divide families and culture: “Previously, the Skolt Sámi had no borders; they were imposed from outside. Now, due to the lack of cooperation, it is again difficult to maintain the unity of the people.”
Projects launched by the community aim to reverse this decline. Sääʹpääʹljes, funded by the Finnish Cultural Foundation, highlights the critical lack of resources. Project coordinator Mirkka Ollila insists: “Today everything operates on the most minimal resources. Language rights in Finland are not fully realized, and this creates many obstacles. The Skolt Sámi language is in the most vulnerable position of the three Sámi languages, and much stronger support is needed at the municipal and state level.”
Ouraspray, launched in 2024 and running until 2026 with Interreg Aurora support, seeks to strengthen Skolt Sámi identity on both sides of the Finland-Norway border. Plans include online courses, language camps, and cultural performances. Project leader Joni Gauriloff stresses the urgency: “To preserve the language, it is crucial to increase the number of its speakers.” He notes that interest in revival is growing, with Finland’s “language nest” model in kindergartens showing early results. “They are one people, united by culture and identity,” he adds, urging closer ties between Norway and Finland.
The MÁHTUT project, completed earlier this year, connected universities and Sámi institutes across Finland, Norway and Sweden. It studied traditional knowledge in the context of the “green transition,” reinforcing that ancient skills still carry value in modern economies.
For the Skolt Sámi, these projects are more than academic. They are survival. As Ollila reminds, “Would there be Finns without the Finnish language? For us, the question is very simple – for the culture to live, the language must survive.”
The Skolt Sámi once roamed freely across Lapland, the Barents coast, and the Kola Peninsula. Colonial borders fragmented their homeland; assimilation policies broke their words. Now, with fewer than 400 speakers left across three nations, the community is fighting not only for a language but for a future where culture and identity endure on their own terms.
AMAZON: Study links Indigenous lands to public health
Indigenous territories in the Amazon have long been celebrated as biodiversity strongholds, yet a new study suggests their value reaches beyond ecosystems. These lands, when legally recognized and protected, may also shield human populations from disease, Mongabay reported on September 19.
Published in Communications Earth & Environment, the study is the first to examine the link between Indigenous territories and public health across all nine Amazonian countries. Its message is simple: healthier forests mean healthier people.
“Indigenous forests act as a sort of shield for health,” explains lead author Júlia Rodrigues Barreto, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of São Paulo. She stresses that securing Indigenous land rights is crucial not only for cultural and ecological reasons, but also for safeguarding human well-being.
The research team analyzed records of 21 diseases over nearly two decades, from 2001 to 2019. These included 15 cardiovascular and respiratory illnesses tied to smoke from forest fires, and six vector-borne and zoonotic diseases such as malaria, Chagas disease, and hantavirus. In total, 28.4 million cases were logged across Amazonian municipalities. Alarmingly, 80 percent of these were fire-related, with respiratory illnesses dominating.
When researchers compared this health data with maps of forest cover, fire records, and Indigenous territory boundaries, a pattern emerged: municipalities with legally protected Indigenous lands experienced lower disease risk. The protective effect was especially strong when forest cover remained above 40 percent for vector-borne diseases and 45 percent for fire-related illnesses.
The findings echo earlier studies suggesting that protecting Indigenous territories in Brazil alone could prevent up to 15 million cases of cardiovascular and respiratory illness every year, with estimated savings of $2 billion in health costs.
Still, challenges persist. Co-author Paula Ribeiro Prist, senior program coordinator at the International Union for Conservation of Nature, warns that fragmented forests are far less effective at preventing outbreaks. Deforestation, she says, reshapes biodiversity in ways that benefit species capable of carrying dangerous pathogens. “When we deforest too much or fragment areas of native vegetation outside of these territories, this leads to an increase in illnesses,” she notes.
Between 1985 and 2020, the Amazon lost nearly 75 million hectares (185 million acres) of native vegetation, about 10 percent of its total area. Crucially, most of this destruction occurred outside Indigenous lands. While Indigenous territories lost 2.9 million hectares (7.2 million acres) in that period, the scale of damage elsewhere was vastly greater. Similarly, of the 50 million hectares (124 million acres) burned between 2001 and 2019, nearly 90 percent of fires took place outside Indigenous territories.
“It is truly important to give land rights over these territories to Indigenous people, not only because they should have this legal ancestral right, but also because they are providing a service for the entire community,” says Prist.
Indigenous leaders echo this view. Toya Manchineri, general coordinator of COIAB, an umbrella body for Indigenous organizations in the Brazilian Amazon, insists the results are no surprise. “Our people have lived in the forest for a very long time and Indigenous people never suffered from casualties related to illnesses from living in the territory, until first contact [with outsiders].”
The implications extend to global policy. Activists and researchers hope COP30, scheduled for Brazil in November, will push governments to commit to recognizing and demarcating Indigenous lands as a climate and health strategy. As Carla Cardenas of the Rights and Resources Initiative notes, “It’s not only about land tenure, but also about governments making the commitment to not award concession rights for extractive activities in those territories inhabited by Indigenous people.”
The study challenges stereotypes of rainforests as disease hotbeds. “Lots of people think you have a high risk of catching a disease when you go to forested areas, and we’re trying to prove the contrary,” Prist says. “It’s actually essential to conserve the Amazon to stay healthy and reduce health risks.”
CANADA: Kwanlin Dün farm harvest strengthens food sovereignty
The Kwanlin Dün First Nation in Whitehorse has celebrated its first harvest at a new community farm, marking a major step toward food sovereignty in Canada’s North, CBC News reported on September 21. The project has already delivered potatoes, carrots, greens, and other vegetables directly to elders and households across the community.
In Southern Tutchone, the farm is called Kwänlin Dün Kwäts’änäkhe k’ènji, meaning “Kwänlin Dün they grow food place.” But to many it is known simply as the Kwanlin Dün First Nation agricultural project, a vision that became reality only this June. The First Nation signed a three-year lease for the former Sundog farm site, located just north of Whitehorse. The land came with two greenhouses, an irrigation system, and essential equipment, creating an ideal launchpad for the initiative.
For Chief Sean Smith, the farm is about resilience and independence. “When it comes to our communities in the North … we’re largely reliant on trucks coming up here to bring probably 85 to 95 per cent of our goods,” he explained. Harsh weather and climate events can disrupt that supply chain, leaving northern communities vulnerable. “Having access to food, especially healthy food, is really critical in terms of us looking ahead and making sure that we’re building out our communities,” Smith said.
Beyond logistics, the farm is also about restoring relationships with the land. Smith noted the project offers citizens the chance to learn how to manage and work the soil, not only as a practical skill but also as a cultural empowerment.
For farm manager Aaron Holway, the transition into agriculture is deeply personal. “I’m a third-generation gold miner, and I wanted to do something that was more building of the soil instead of breaking it down,” he said. Holway described farming as both vital and uplifting: “Being able to produce food for your community is vital for everyone. But also, it’s nice to nurture something and then be able to help feed your community with it.”
Holway and the team have been doing more than planting and harvesting. They deliver the produce themselves, taking food to elders, community centers, and even the Yukon food bank. “On a drop-off day, we got to go door-to-door and put big smiles on all the elders’ faces and deliver food to them. And I always get big ‘Gùnáłchîsh, Shä̀w níthän, Mähsi’cho’s.’ Everyone’s just super thankful and it’s extremely rewarding,” he said.
Another farmer, David Moroz, described being “up to his ears” in potatoes. Having once worked on a potato farm, he says returning to this kind of work feels good. He also called the project overdue: “It was about time.”
Chief Smith sees bigger opportunities ahead. With success in its first season, Kwanlin Dün First Nation is considering proper winter storage facilities and even commercialization. “That’s something further along as we go down this path [to] get to that point where we can commercially sell this product within our community,” he said. “I think that’s an opportunity in itself, and I think there’s a lot of good things that can come from this project.”
From potatoes to kale, the first harvest represents more than fresh produce – it symbolizes community strength, gratitude, and a growing movement to reclaim food security in the North.
AUSTRALIA: Indigenous accountant redefines path to leadership
When Jolene Elliott, a Yamatji-chartered accountant, co-founded her own firm in 2019, she set out to break the mold of what an accounting practice could be, National Indigenous Times reported on September 17.
Six years later, she has been named 2025 Indigenous Accountant of the Year, recognition not just for her technical skills but for her efforts to transform the profession.
Her firm, Karlaya Accounting and Business Advisory, is female-led, First Nations-owned, and focused on “purpose-driven businesses,” as Elliott said, according to National Indigenous Times. The company has built a reputation for its work with nonprofits, for its inclusivity, and for embedding cultural values in financial services. “We wanted something more inclusive,” she said.
Karlaya’s ethos reflects Elliott’s personal journey. She recalls a pivotal conversation early in her career when she was told how few Indigenous accountants existed in Australia. “I didn’t realize that, so it did start me on a journey,” she admitted. Today, First Nations Australians account for just 0.5 percent of qualified chartered accountants, a statistic Elliott is determined to change.
Her business partner identifies as LGBTQIA+, and together they sought to create a firm where diversity and belonging were central. Karlaya itself takes its name from the Martu word for “emu,” a connection to Elliott’s grandmother’s heritage. To her, the bird symbolizes walking together, a metaphor for the company’s mission of collective progress.
Elliott’s path into accounting was partly shaped by her upbringing around Ipswich, Queensland. Money was tight at home, and she resolved to change her future. “I did not want to end up that way,” she explained. Her love for accounting as a high school subject turned into a career. She was the first in her immediate family to attend university, though later her mother followed as a mature-age student.
Now a mother herself, Elliott champions work-life balance as part of Karlaya’s model. “My work fits around my family,” she said, noting that too many firms still demand long hours and unhealthy sacrifices. By contrast, she sees flexibility and well-being as essential to attracting and retaining talent – especially women.
Her recognition this year adds to a growing profile. Elliott serves on the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Panel of Chartered Accountants Australia and New Zealand, is a graduate of the AICD Company Directors Course, and completed the University of Melbourne’s Indigenous Business Leadership program. She recently addressed students at the National Indigenous Business School at Griffith University, encouraging others to see accounting not as a narrow track but as a strong foundation for many career paths.
Scholarships are one key tool for opening doors, she said, pointing to Chartered Accountants Australia and New Zealand’s Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Scholarship. “Any scholarship is a great opportunity,” she emphasized, while noting the barriers posed by tuition costs. “A big barrier for education and university in general is cost … It also just helps you be a bit more known … inside Chartered Accountant that you might not otherwise have the opportunity to have.”
For Elliott, accounting has always been more than numbers. It is about financial literacy, empowerment, and creating representation where little existed before. Her journey — from Ipswich classrooms to national recognition — shows future Indigenous accountants what is possible. “Recognizing the industry’s lack of Indigenous accounting representation, she founded an accounting practice that goes beyond the traditional role of an accounting firm and drives meaningful change while remaining true to her cultural values,” her company’s website explains.
With Karlaya growing and recognition building, Elliott’s award is less a capstone than a call to action: a signal that Indigenous and female leadership in accounting is not only possible but urgently needed.
SOUTH AFRICA: Wild coast communities confront Shell in constitutional court
South Africa’s constitutional court has become the latest stage in a decade-long battle over oil and gas exploration on the country’s Wild Coast. On September 18, Mongabay reported that judges heard arguments from local communities, environmental groups, and multinational Shell, as protests erupted nationwide against offshore drilling.
The dispute stretches back to 2014, when the minister of mineral resources granted Impact Africa, a subsidiary of the U.K.-based Impact Oil and Gas, permission to conduct seismic surveys off the Eastern Cape coast. The Wild Coast is home to the Mpondo people, whose livelihoods and spiritual traditions are closely tied to the ocean. Shell later bought into the exploration permit, acquiring 50 percent working interest.
Communities, small-scale fishers, and NGOs first went to court in 2021, arguing that officials had failed to properly consult affected people and that seismic blasting would threaten marine ecosystems and cultural practices. In 2022, the Eastern Cape Division of the High Court sided with them, declaring the exploration right unlawful.
But Shell and Impact Africa appealed. In May 2024, the Supreme Court of Appeal overturned the earlier judgment, reinstating the companies’ rights to renew exploration and allowing their plans to move forward.
This week, community leaders and NGOs took their case to the highest court, arguing that the renewal of exploration rights cannot bypass proper consultation. At stake is whether Shell must start fresh with a new application, requiring full environmental authorization and public engagement or whether it can proceed under the existing permit.
“We want them to have an environmental authorization, which requires that they engage with us before they’ve started,” said community leader Sinegugu Zukulu. “We want them to follow the law; that was the main bone of contention which was being argued. We as Indigenous people want to keep our right to say no when we don’t want that particular development.”
Representing the coastal communities, advocate Tembeka Ngcukaitobi argued before the judges that the Supreme Court of Appeal’s decision violated fairness and undermined community rights. “We argue the SCA order is incompetent, rendering it neither just nor equitable, and nullifies communities’ rights to procedural fairness,” he said.
For environmental lawyers, the case is precedent-setting. Melissa Groenink-Groves, program manager with Natural Justice, called it historic: “It’s the first time the rights of fishers have been brought before the Constitutional Court, and that is huge.” She added that the legal fight reflects not only the concerns of Mpondo communities but also broader struggles against extractive industries across South Africa.
The Wild Coast remains one of the country’s most ecologically rich and culturally significant regions. Opponents of offshore exploration warn that seismic surveys, which use powerful air-guns to map oil and gas reserves, can disrupt marine life, harm fisheries, and erode spiritual connections Indigenous communities have maintained for centuries.
The Constitutional Court is expected to deliver its ruling before year’s end. If the communities succeed, Shell would be forced to reapply for exploration rights through a process that guarantees meaningful consultation and environmental oversight.
For now, the outcome remains uncertain. But as protests across South Africa show, the case has already become a symbol of resistance: coastal communities demanding a voice in decisions that affect both their heritage and the future of the ocean they call home.
My final thoughts
My final thoughts are across five continents. This past week has given us a hauntingly clear picture of our fractured world, stitched together by stories from five continents. Each begins with a people fighting for dignity, whether for their land, their language, or the simple right to breathe and ends with the same unanswered question: Will the world listen before it is too late?
In Europe’s far north, the Skolt Sámi struggle to keep alive a language nearly extinguished by colonization. Their elders remind us that culture cannot live without language, and language cannot live without culture. To lose Skolt Sámi words is to silence an entire people’s history. Europe’s democracies cannot congratulate themselves on pluralism while leaving endangered Indigenous tongues to wither without resources.
Across the Atlantic, the Amazon’s canopy is shown to be not only the lungs of the planet but also its immune system. Research now proves that intact Indigenous forests reduce disease. To cut the trees is to invite illness into our lungs, our bloodstreams, our very breath. Yet governments still allow bulldozers to prowl where Indigenous guardians have kept balance for centuries. Public health budgets swell while the cheapest medicine, land rights, is withheld.
In Canada’s Yukon, the Kwanlin Dün First Nation has chosen another path: planting fields of kale and potatoes where dependency once reigned. Their harvest is modest, yet profound, a sovereign act of feeding one’s own. This is not nostalgia for subsistence; it is a blueprint for resilience in a warming, disrupted world. Canada should appraise such leadership, not as quaint local color, but as national security.
Meanwhile in Australia, Jolene Elliott’s ascent as Indigenous Accountant of the Year reveals a quieter battle: to claim space in professions long closed to First Nations women. Her firm insists on balance, inclusion and service to purpose rather than profit alone. In a field obsessed with ledgers, Elliott reminds us that what is missing from the balance sheet is representation itself. The recommendation here is not pity but replication: more scholarships, more pathways, more leaders who refuse to work themselves, or their communities, into the ground.
And in South Africa, the Wild Coast resounds with chants against Shell. Communities who fish these waters ask a question that should shame us all: Do they not have the right to say no? Seismic blasts threaten not just whales and livelihoods but the very principle of consent. When the law treats corporations as more deserving of consultation than Indigenous nations, democracy itself is undermined. The Constitutional Court has a chance to reset that imbalance.
Taken together, these five stories form a single moral atlas. They condemn extractive arrogance, appraise the resilience of Indigenous vision, and recommend a path both urgent and obvious: protect the guardians, secure their rights, amplify their voices. What is at stake is not simply culture, food or language in isolation. It is whether the world will finally understand that the survival of Indigenous peoples and the survival of humanity are not separate stories, but one.