Deusdedit Ruhangariyo
ICT
Around the world: Aboriginal tourism rewrites western Australia’s global narrative, dental care gaps deepen Indigenous health inequities in Canada, in Nepal sacred mountains clash with development and power, and Rangatahi Māori redefine belonging across worlds.
AUSTRALIA: Aboriginal tourism rewrites western Australia’s global story
Western Australia has crossed a historic threshold: more than one million international visitors in a single calendar year, a milestone achieved on the back of a booming Aboriginal tourism sector. New data from Tourism Research Australia shows the state welcomed a record 1.024 million overseas visitors in the 12 months to October 2025 — surpassing pre-pandemic levels and completing its tourism recovery two years ahead of national forecasts, reported The Indigenous Business Review.
At the center of this resurgence is a growing global appetite for Aboriginal cultural experiences.
Indigenous-led tours, storytelling, art, and on-country experiences are no longer niche offerings but core drivers of Western Australia’s tourism identity. The Western Australian Indigenous Tourism Operators Committee says international participation in Aboriginal tourism continues to rise, providing a strong foundation for long-term growth.
This recovery is translating into real outcomes. More than three million tourism trips were recorded in the year to December 2024, the highest ever, with international travelers accounting for 37 percent. For Indigenous operators, the impact is tangible: job creation, business expansion, and renewed confidence that culture-centered tourism can be both economically viable and culturally grounded.
Government and industry investment has played a role. Global campaigns such as Walking On A Dream and celebrity-led initiatives like Daniel Ricciardo’s Drive the Dream have helped reintroduce Western Australia to the world. Expanded aviation links now connect the state to 20 global cities, with international seat capacity exceeding pre-COVID levels.
Yet the deeper story is not marketing — it is meaning. Visitors are increasingly seeking experiences that are relational, place-based, and led by the people whose knowledge systems predate the modern tourism industry by millennia. Aboriginal tourism offers that depth, reframing travel as encounter rather than consumption.
Tourism Minister Reece Whitby has called the milestone “just the beginning.” For Indigenous communities, the opportunity is equally forward-looking: to scale on their own terms, protect cultural integrity, and ensure that growth strengthens — not dilutes — connection to country. Western Australia’s record numbers suggest a broader truth: when Indigenous peoples lead, the world follows.
CANADA: Dental care gaps deepen Indigenous health inequities
When Janine Manning needed a root canal, the procedure itself was routine. The cost was not. As a member of the Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation, Manning relies on Canada’s federal Non-Insured Health Benefits program, designed to cover health services not included under provincial plans for First Nations and Inuit. Yet NIHB approved only $159 of a nearly $2,200 treatment, reported CBC News.
Even after private insurance, Manning paid close to $600 out of pocket — a burden many Indigenous patients simply cannot absorb. Her experience exposes a widening gap between Indigenous dental coverage and contemporary Canadian standards of care.
NIHB operates as a payer of last resort, requiring patients to exhaust other coverage first. While the program includes dental care, vision, prescriptions, and medical travel, both patients and dentists say its reimbursement rates and procedural limits have failed to keep pace with real costs. As a result, more dentists are opting out, citing administrative complexity and delayed payments.
This creates a cascading access problem. Many NIHB patients cannot pay upfront, and fewer clinics are willing to navigate the system. What begins as a policy shortfall becomes a practical denial of care — particularly in rural and remote communities.
Dental health is not cosmetic. Untreated oral conditions can lead to infection, chronic pain, lost income, and broader health complications. For Indigenous communities already navigating structural health inequities, the gap compounds historical disadvantage.
Critics argue that the program, while essential, reflects an outdated model — one that treats Indigenous health as supplemental rather than integral to national standards. Without updates that reflect modern procedures, fair compensation, and streamlined administration, the program risks entrenching inequity rather than resolving it.
Manning’s frustration is not unique; it is emblematic. Access to dental care should not depend on personal savings or insurance loopholes. If Canada is serious about reconciliation and health equity, Indigenous people must not be left navigating a system that covers yesterday’s care at today’s prices.
NEPAL: Sacred mountains clash with development and power
High in eastern Nepal, a cable car project intended to serve the Pathibhara Devi temple has ignited deep conflict. For Hindu pilgrims, the project promises easier access. For the Indigenous Yakthung (Limbu) people, it threatens a sacred landscape central to spiritual identity, ecological balance, and ancestral stewardship, Mongabay reported.
The World Bank Group’s Compliance Advisor/Ombudsman has now confirmed it is assessing a complaint filed by Yakthung representatives against the International Finance Corporation, alleging failures in transparency, environmental safeguards, and respect for Indigenous rights. The complaint was formally accepted in December 2025.
At issue is the IFC’s advisory involvement with IME Group, the conglomerate behind the project. Although IFC says it exited early and did not directly advise on the cable car, complainants argue that the delayed disclosure of IFC’s role undermines accountability particularly given the project’s environmental and social impacts.
The site lies near the Kanchenjunga Conservation Area and is home to threatened species, including red pandas and protected Himalayan yew trees. Critics say environmental assessments were inadequate, omitting key species and avoiding a full impact study. Protests escalated in January 2025 when police fired rubber bullets at demonstrators, injuring community members.
For Yakthung leaders, this is not simply a development disputem, it is a question of free, prior, and informed consent. They argue that sacred land cannot be offset by promises of tourism revenue or job creation. The spiritual cost, they say, is irreversible.
The CAO’s 90-day assessment will determine whether the case moves toward dispute resolution or a full compliance review. While the process does not judge merits, its outcome carries symbolic weight. It tests whether global financial institutions can reconcile development narratives with Indigenous self-determination and environmental responsibility.
For communities on the ground, the stakes are existential. As one complainant said, defending the mountain is about safeguarding heritage, not opposing progress. Nepal’s cable car controversy reflects a global pattern: when development arrives without consent, it often travels the same path, through sacred ground.
NEW ZEALAND: Rangatahi Māori redefine belonging across worlds
From a town of fewer than 4,000 people, Siadin Ellis is quietly reshaping what possibility looks like for rangatahi Māori. At 23, she has walked New Zealand Fashion Week runways twice while graduating with a law degree and being admitted to the High Court. Today, she works in Treaty law — bridging creativity and jurisprudence in spaces Māori have long been excluded from, RNZ reported.
Ellis grew up in Tūrangi, a predominantly Māori town often reduced to negative statistics. Those narratives shaped her resolve. She speaks openly about feeling caught between worlds — “too white” for Māori spaces at times, “too Māori” for others — especially after returning from childhood years in Australia without fluent te reo.
Law became both refuge and resistance. University life in Auckland brought isolation, impostor syndrome, and financial strain, compounded by starting during the pandemic. What sustained her was whānau — particularly her younger siblings — and a determination to show that origin does not define limit.
Alongside law, Ellis found freedom in fashion. Rejected by agencies for not fitting conventional standards, she persisted, embracing visibility as a bigger-bodied Māori woman. On the runway, she says, she feels seen — not for attention, but recognition.
One defining moment came when her ankle tā moko was clearly visible in a national advertising campaign. Rather than being erased, it was centered. The response affirmed what representation can do — not just for the individual, but for those watching from the margins.
Today, Ellis calls her Māoritanga a “superpower.” Understanding tikanga strengthens her legal work and grounds her creativity. Her message to rangatahi Māori is direct: systems were not built for you, but that does not mean you do not belong. The work is to enter anyway — and change them.
My final thoughts
This column has always been about more than headlines. It has been about patterns, about how Indigenous peoples across continents encounter the same forces wearing different names: development, recovery, reform, progress. From tourism booms to healthcare gaps, from sacred mountains to fashion runways, the stories change, but the underlying question remains the same: who gets to define value?
In western Australia, we see what happens when Indigenous leadership is recognized as an asset rather than an obstacle. In Canada, we see the cost of systems that promise care but fail to modernize. In Nepal, we witness the collision between global finance and ancestral responsibility. In Aotearoa, we are reminded that identity is not a barrier, it is a source of power.
Together, these stories reveal a world in transition. Indigenous communities are not asking to be included in broken systems, they are modeling alternatives — grounded in consent, continuity, and care. The challenge for institutions is whether they are willing to listen before conflict forces the issue.
As I close this final Global Indigenous column, I do so with gratitude.
To the readers who have walked with me across borders, belief systems, and hard truths over the last few years, thank you. Your attention has mattered. Your willingness to sit with complexity has mattered.
This column ends not because the work is done, but because new responsibilities now call. The stories will continue, even if the byline changes. Indigenous futures are not a series, they are a constant unfolding.
Carry these stories with you. Question whose voices are centered. Ask what consent looks like in practice. And remember that survival is not the ceiling, self-determination is the horizon.
Thank you for reading.