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The Guardian
3 days ago
- Health
- The Guardian
‘Ayahuasca tourism' is a blight on Indigenous peoples and our environment
In the world of the Ecuadorian Amazon, humans, plants and animals are relatives, and ancient stories reflect real ecological relationships and Indigenous knowledge rooted in profound connections to the land. But one of those connections – ceremonial medicine known as hayakwaska – is now marketed as a mystical shortcut to healing and enlightenment. Behind the scenes of these 'healing retreats' lies a deeper story of cultural erasure, linguistic distortion and ongoing colonisation masked as wellness. The global popularity of 'ayahuasca' has given rise to a new form of spiritual tourism that romanticises and distorts Indigenous cultures. This growing industry fuels the exoticisation of Indigenous peoples, turning our languages, practices and identities into consumable fantasies for outsiders. Sacred rituals are stripped of context, spiritual roles are commercialised, and even the names of the plants are misused, reducing complex cultural systems into simplified, marketable experiences. Aya means the soul of a dead person, skeleton, or corpse. The term ayahuasca is a modern invention, largely used in spiritual tourism. In our language, we say 'hayakata upina' when referring to drinking hayakwaska. Hayak is a short form of hayakwaska and directly means bitter, so the translation means drinking the 'bitter vine'. In contrast, 'ayata upina' would mean 'to drink the soul of a dead person', which no one would say. For this reason, I will use the correct term: hayakwaska. Even the name of the medicine has been distorted. To understand it properly, one must understand our society, its structure, language and deep ties to the land. Unlike English or Spanish, Indigenous languages such as our Runashimi (Kichwa) are rooted in place. Like modern science, our knowledge is based on observation, but through relationships. We live through a social-emotional relationship with the land. In the rainforest, all beings, including humans and the more-than-human world, have roles and responsibilities. Although our yachaks (traditional healers) may treat individuals, their true role is to maintain balance within the community and among relationships between people, forests and all beings. Healing, in our worldview, is collective because we are all interconnected. When yachaks focus only on 'ayahuasca' tourism for profit, abandoning this sacred responsibility, we must ask: what have they become? Tourist-oriented healing centres often prioritise individual experiences, personal growth, ego work and private revelations, detached from community, land and reciprocity. When healing is stripped of its collective foundation, it no longer nourishes true awakening. Instead, it risks becoming a performance that elevates the self, not the whole, opposing the very essence of Indigenous healing, which is rooted in relationship, humility and shared wellbeing. It is not just sad, it is dangerous. When spiritual practices are altered to please outsiders, it shifts the very meaning of hayak and the relationship we have with it. These changes reshape how younger generations understand our traditions, not through lived experience or guidance from elders, but through performances tailored for tourism. What was once sacred, genuine and real becomes scripted. The danger lies not only in losing the essence of our ceremonies but in distorting our collective memory, values and roles. When healing becomes entertainment, and culture becomes spectacle, the spiritual thread that holds our community together begins to fray. Hayakwaska tourism is also a driver of illegal hunting practices. Traditional hunting is rooted in respect and reciprocity, but today commercial demand for animal parts threatens both species and Indigenous ways of life, and this growing tourism industry not only distorts culture but also fuels threats to biodiversity. Recent research highlights how jaguars, already a near threatened species, are being exploited to meet tourist demand. Items such as jaguar-tooth pendants and skin bracelets are sold as mystical enhancers of the ayahuasca experience, endangering both wildlife and sacred balance. Using Indigenous knowledge and medicine carries deep social and environmental responsibility. Without that responsibility, it becomes nothing more than extractivism, another form of colonialism dressed in spiritual language. The real question is: How are 'ayahuasca tourists' giving back? Are they supporting Indigenous rights, protecting ancestral lands, and standing with the people who safeguard this wisdom, often at great personal risk? Too many seek healing from Indigenous medicines while ignoring the lived realities of those who protect the plants, the knowledge, and the territories they come from. These communities continue their struggle amid threats from mining, oil extraction and agribusiness. If there is to be any true healing, it must include justice, reciprocity and solidarity with the people and the land from which this medicine grows. Inspired by their stories and our experiences, I, Nina, created Waska: The Forest is My Family. The film explores the exploitation of Indigenous peoples and the forest. As the granddaughter of a yachak, I wanted to share what it means to live connected to hayakwaska and the land. Nina Gualinga and Eli Virkina are both Indigenous women of the Ecuadorian Amazon, storytellers and land defenders
SBS Australia
4 days ago
- Climate
- SBS Australia
Weather and words. Language and living
More resources for language educators Watch Weird and Wonderful Aussie English on SBS On Demand Howie: One day, my Aussie friend said to me, 'Just put it on the hills!' Then I realised — they meant The Hills Hoist. From my research, I've learned that Aussie English is shaped by how people live — the weather, the land, and the way we make ourselves at home. So why do Aussies talk about living the way they do? And what does it tell us about life in Australia? Aussie homes — and our weather — have shaped how we speak. Life in Australia can be harsh and varies across the country. In the Northern Territory, there's no winter — just different types of summer. To newcomers, Australian seasons might not make much sense. That's because the traditional seasons — summer, autumn, winter, spring — were imported from Europe. These seasons explain how the Earth moves, but they don't reflect what's really happening here — when flowers bloom, when crops should be harvested, or when to do controlled burns of bushland. Australia's Indigenous people had a 60,000-year head start observing nature. Many had their own seasonal calendars — two, six, even eight seasons. These Indigenous seasons are based on natural signs. Some last weeks, others span months. If you're interested, you can explore your local Indigenous knowledge sources. Living here means adapting — especially to the weather. You might hang your washing in the bright sun and get hit by rain 20 minutes later. The Hills Hoist has been a backyard staple since the mid-20th century. Many Aussies now use 'Hills' as shorthand for any clothes-drying. Fun fact: In 1945, Sherry Hill complained that traditional washing lines messed up her garden. Her husband Lance Hill created a new invention — and the Hills Hoist was born. Today we use it for drying clothes, party games, and more. Like our weather — and our slang — the Hills Hoist is always spinning. Aussies take pride in adaptability and hard work. One iconic word is 'swagman' (or 'swaggie') — a travelling worker from Australia's 19th and early 20th centuries. You might know them from the song Waltzing Matilda. Swagmen roamed from place to place looking for work, carrying all their belongings rolled up in a blanket, called a 'Matilda.' After a long day of waltzing — or walking — they'd cuddle up with their Matilda for the night. Australia is known for casual living — and that includes party timing. If the event is a backyard barbie or a park catch-up, the start time is often just a suggestion. If it's at a restaurant or formal venue, though — arrive on time. No matter the setting, Aussies love a good chat. And we have some great words for that too. The word 'yarn' likely started as a nautical term. By the mid-19th century, people in Australia and New Zealand used it to mean chatting or storytelling. For many Indigenous Australians, 'yarning' has a deeper cultural meaning. Since the 1980s, yarning circles have been a safe, respectful space for storytelling and knowledge sharing. Whether you call it a 'chinwag' or a 'yarn,' Australians love gathering to share stories in a welcoming place. It's part of what defines our culture — being flexible, open, and connected. From surviving extreme climates to inventing backyard icons like the Hills Hoist, Aussie living shapes Aussie language. Whether we're finding ways to deal with the weather or sitting down for a yarn, we share everything — from food to stories. And the most wonderful part? Everyone — from locals to migrants — can be part of it. We're all shaping and sharing this unique Australian way of life. Weird and Wonderful Aussie English Video production company: New Mac Video Agency
Yahoo
01-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Message from the Governor General of Canada on Canadian Environment Week
OTTAWA, ON, June 1, 2025 /CNW/ - Canadian Environment Week reminds us that we all have a role to play to protect the place we love and call home. This year's theme, Ending Plastic Pollution, is an urgent call to action. Every effort, big or small, helps restore our ecosystems, fight climate change and preserve our environment for future generations. We are already witnessing the adverse effects of climate change, from wildfires and floods to melting glaciers and sea ice in the Arctic. These shifts impact our environment, precious resources and way of life. But from coast to coast to coast, people are stepping up: cities are reclaiming green spaces, new projects are blending technology with Indigenous knowledge and communities are sharing sustainable practices that offer viable solutions. Together, let's celebrate our environmental achievements and continue to help protect the unparalleled natural beauty we enjoy across the nation, for ourselves, for our children and for the world we all share. Mary Simon Stay connected:Follow GovernorGeneralCanada on Facebook, Instagram, X and YouTube. SOURCE Governor General of Canada View original content: Sign in to access your portfolio
CBC
26-05-2025
- General
- CBC
Indigenous groups weigh in on closure plans for N.W.T.'s Diavik mine, urge more use of traditional knowledge
Some Indigenous groups in the N.W.T. are weighing in on Diavik Diamond Mine's closure plans, and saying Indigenous traditional knowledge should play a bigger role in those plans. The closure represents "the most important time in the mine's life," according to the Łutsel K'e Dene First Nation (LKDFN), in a written submission to the Wek'èezhìi Land and Water Board ahead of Diavik's water licence renewal. The First Nation says the mine's closure will determine how healthy the land and water will be after the operation is gone. Diavik is set to close early 2026, and its water licence, which authorizes water use and waste discharge, expires at the end of this year. A public hearing on the water licence renewal application will be held in Behchoko from June 10 to 12. In its letter to the land and water board, LKDFN urges that a condition to be added requiring Diavik to seek approval from a panel of traditional knowledge holders for all site closure objectives. The First Nation says that should be in addition to the scientific monitoring that Diavik has recommended. "Science alone will not instill confidence in the community that water is safe to drink, fish are safe to eat, that dust levels, revegetation, and landscape features are acceptable," LKDFN's submission reads. The First Nation says that only when scientists and traditional knowledge holders agree on these issues will the mine closure be deemed successful. The Yellowknives Dene First Nation (YKDFN) raised similar concerns in its letter to the land and water board. Matthew Spence, CEO of the First Nation, wrote in the letter that as things stand now, YKDFN is "deeply concerned that the outcomes of closure will see continued impacts on the environment, harming the return of our people." "For the YKDFN, safe is more than absence of harm. Safe means that our members and their families can go to Ek'a Ti and know that not only will it [not] harm them, but that they can live and prosper," Spence said. YKDFN's letter also points to conflicting perspectives when it comes to water quality around the site, saying Diavik's science-based approach to sampling suggests the water quality is acceptable while traditional knowledge studies suggest otherwise. The First Nation says its most recent results from a monitoring camp in 2024 found only two of fifteen fish caught at the camp were deemed healthy enough for further sampling and consumption. "At this point, YKDFN are concerned that the system places the overwhelming reliance on the sampling programs based on Western science, with a failure to provide for meaningful incorporation of the concerns founded in TK [traditional knowledge] observations," the letter reads. Other closed mines left 'negative perspectives around mining' Another Indigenous government is more optimistic about Diavik's closure plans. The Tłı̨chǫ government says it hopes the Diavik closure leaves a positive legacy, and doesn't repeat the environmental damage seen at older sites in the territory like Giant Mine, or the Rayrock uranium mine. Brett Wheler, a senior advisor with Tłı̨chǫ Government's department of culture and lands protection, says they want to see more water testing done before Diavik closes. Wheler said other mines that left without a proper clean-up had long-standing impacts. "That's caused harm to the environment and to people and it's given sort of a negative relationship or negative perspectives around mining," Wheler said. He said the big areas of the Diavik site have already been cleaned up even before the mining is finished, which is a good sign. "From a technical perspective and from the elders' traditional and cultural perspective, when we go on site, we see that that clean-up work that's already been completed as really positive," Wheler said. Wheler described how Diavik is planning to make sure the water stays clean by putting a thick layer of clean rock on top of all waste rock piles. That means when there is rainfall or snow, the water will not come into contact with the waste rock before running off into natural streams and down to nearby Lac de Gras. "That's the first kind of big, big step to try to keep the water clean. So most of that has been done already," Wheler said. Still, the Tłı̨chǫ government is recommending careful water testing to ensure it's safe and healthy for Tłıcho citizens using the water and land around that area. "We want to make sure that if there are any small effects that are going to be longer-term after the mine is closed, that those are really as small as possible and that they don't have any safety or health risks," Wheler said. The Diavik mine is expected to be the first of the N.W.T.'s three diamond mines to close in the coming years, with Ekati expected to operate until 2029 and Gahcho Kué expected to operate until about 2030.
