A family of Christmas tree farmers has faced major losses and challenges since the 1970s. They say climate change is to blame.

Taiyler Simone Mitchell

Wed, December 22, 2021

Jesse Steadman with his wife Jamie Aspenson and their son SimonTaproot Tree Farm

• Droughts, wildfires, and flooding have led to unfavorable conditions for Christmas tree growing.

• A family of Christmas tree farmers told Insider about the impact of climate change on their farms.

• Buying real Christmas trees can be part of climate change solutions, an ecology expert told Insider.

After serving in Vietnam in 1967, Jim Steadman started selling Christmas trees to make some cash for skiing.

He found his passion in the tree-growing industry and has been in the business ever since, later founding Maple Hollow Tree Farm in 1976 in New Hartford, Connecticut.

But climate change events, such as extended droughts, wildfires, and flooding, have led to unfavorable conditions for Christmas trees, and subsequently, a nationwide Christmas tree shortage, Insider previously reported. And because Christmas trees can take up to seven to ten years to grow to an optimal height and size for selling, the negative impacts of climate change on the industry are seen for years to come.

Jim SteadmanMaple Hollow Tree Farm

For example, Hurricane Irene in 2011 brought unwelcome flooding and destroyed about 25% of his trees, Steadman said. He ended up selling the last of them in 2020.

Steadman also noted that the 2016 drought "was pretty bad." It was the Northeast's worst drought in over a decade, forcing farmers across the region to tackle extremely dry weather with irrigation systems, according to NPR.

"It was probably in the last five years, or say seven years, that we first had to introduce irrigation, and as time went on, it became worse," Steadman said.

Jesse Steadman — Jim Steadman's oldest son who grew up on the Christmas tree farm — started Taproot Tree Farm in 2014 with his wife, Jamie Aspenson, in Stow, Massachusetts. They just sold their first Christmas trees this year.

"It took seven years to have one dime come in," Jesse Steadman said. "Luckily, we both work different separate full-time jobs right now, and we have been very involved in my parents' farm in Connecticut."

Jesse Steadman said the 2016 drought killed 1,000 of the 1,300 trees they planted that year, but they have since turned to irrigation to mitigate the loss.

Jesse SteadmanTaproot Tree Farm

"We never grew up irrigating trees," Jesse Steadman said. "It wasn't really part of what we did."

Both Jesse and Jim Steadman agreed that irrigation is part of the solution to help them grow trees now. The younger Steadman added that he relies on transplant beds with trees from other places, "so that we have replacements to kind of deal with whatever shock comes with the season," he said.

Some popular Christmas tree species include the Canaan fir, the Balsam Fir, the Frasier Fir, and the Blue Spruce. But not all replacement species of trees can make the cut.

"The numbers of species that we can rely on to grow, it seems to be going down too, we don't have as many as we used to," Jim Steadman said.

On top of all that, invasive species, diseases, and deer also threaten the crop.

"I think everyone would like to continue growing Frasier Firs and Balsam Firs because they're so popular, but they're more susceptible to climate impacts, like drought, like freezing, and insects and diseases," Andy Finton, a forest ecologist for The Nature Conservancy in Massachusetts, told Insider.

Finton said, apart from government-level decisions on forest protection and management, buying real trees could be part of the solution to the climate change-related predicament plaguing the Christmas tree industry.

"You're supporting a farmer, helping them maintain their livelihood, helping them, keeping that farm viable, which actually is important for their livelihood [and] for future Christmas trees, but it can also be part of the climate solution," Finton said. "For every tree that's cut each year, there are nine more growing in the field, so only about a 10th of the Christmas trees growing in the US are cut each year."

In spite of the challenges to growing trees, the Steadmans said they will continue to persist.

"I still have that passion, and I still have some hope that I'm going to be able to carry on regardless of what's thrown at us," Jim Steadman said. "I just anticipate it's going to be more difficult."

Taiwan's Foxconn qualifies for nearly $30 million tax breaks in Wisconsin


Construction continues on the Foxconn manufacturing complex in Mt. Pleasant

Thu, December 23, 2021

(Reuters) - Foxconn has qualified for $28.8 million in Wisconsin tax credits as the Taiwan electronics manufacturer, best known for making Apple iPhones, pushes to set up manufacturing plants in the state.

The world's largest contract manufacturer of electronic devices has been working on a 20-million-square-foot manufacturing campus in Wisconsin, in which it will invest $10 billion over four years, to build electric vehicles.

Over the past year, Foxconn has created 579 jobs and has invested $266 million in the community, with nearly $1 billion in total investments for Wisconsin, the state's assembly speaker Robin Vos said in a statement.

"With the current work environment, it's crucial we highlight and focus on the businesses that want to participate in Wisconsin's economy," Vos said.

The project, first announced in 2017, was once called "the eighth wonder of the world" by former U.S. President Donald Trump.

The company had said in April it would reduce its planned investment and cut the number of new jobs, citing market fluctuations and changing global market conditions.

(Reporting by Nivedita Balu in Bengaluru; Editing by Shinjini Ganguli)

State: Covanta needs a plan to discharge less mercury into Willamette River


Tracy Loew, Salem Statesman Journal
Wed, December 22, 2021, 4:52 PM·3 min read

State environmental regulators want the Covanta Marion garbage incinerator to reduce the amount of mercury it discharges into the Willamette River.

The Oregon Department of Environmental Quality is asking for public input on the company’s renewed water quality permit. It includes a new provision that gives Covanta two years to provide DEQ with a plan to reduce mercury emissions.

The incinerator, located in Brooks, takes most of Marion County’s waste. It burns about 550 tons of municipal waste per day, and an additional 250 tons of medical and industrial waste per month.


Covanta uses about 88,000 gallons per day of well water for flushing built-up minerals from the boiler and cooling tower. That water is then is treated and discharged to a 12-inch pipe that runs six miles into the Willamette River at milepost 72.1, immediately downstream of the Wheatland Ferry.

The Covanta Marion facility in Brooks.

Covanta’s federal permit to discharge wastewater to the river expired on Nov. 30, 2009. It has been allowed to continue operating under its previous permit because it filed a timely application with DEQ, which has been delegated authority over the permits.

DEQ had taken public input on a proposed permit renewal in March 2016, but that proposal was put on hold while regulators awaited federal rule changes governing mercury levels in the Willamette River. Those changes were final early this year.

The Willamette exceeds water quality standards for mercury at the company’s outfall.

The new permit does not have a mercury limit, but requires Covanta to show how it will monitor and minimize mercury releases.

Paint, oil, plastic: What is Covanta burning in Brooks, Oregon?

The mercury comes from sulfuric acid, which the company uses to adjust the water’s pH.

Covanta already has taken one step to reduce the amount of mercury it releases to the river. During the summer months, it uses some of the wastewater to irrigate landscaped areas on the facility’s 17-acre property.

The 2016 proposal also included a lower limit for chlorine releases, with a requirement to install a dechlorination system if the limit could not be met.

That provision was removed after Covanta showed that samples taken near the river outfall, rather than next to the plant, had lower chlorine levels, DEQ spokesman Dylan Darling said.

The facility uses chlorine as a biocide to control algae buildup in its cooling towers.

Both chlorine and mercury are toxic to aquatic life, and mercury bioaccumulates in fish tissue, which could pose a health risk to people eating fish from the river.

The public is invited to comment on the proposal. Comments must be received by 5 p.m. Jan. 25.

They can be faxed to 503-378-7944; emailed to Jennifer.Maglinte-Timbrook@deq.state.or.us; or mailed to Jennifer Maglinte-Tombrook, permit coordinator, 4026 Fairview Industrial Drive, Salem, OR 97302-1142.

A virtual public hearing is scheduled for 4 p.m. Jan. 18. More information about the permit and hearing is available at https://www.oregon.gov/deq/get-involved/documents/012521covanta.pdf.

Tracy Loew is a reporter at the Statesman Journal. She can be reached at tloew@statesmanjournal.com, 503-399-6779 or on Twitter at @Tracy_Loew.

This article originally appeared on Salem Statesman Journal: Oregon proposes Covanta dump less mercury in the Willamette River

Hawaii families devastated by impacts of Navy's fuel-contaminated water

Tori B. Powell
Wed, December 22, 2021

For Hawaii residents who rely on the Navy's water system, there's "good" and "bad" water, according to one resident. The good water — or boiled and bottled water — is what Anthony Willbanks says his wife uses to fill an inflatable pool so she can hand wash laundry with their children. It's the type his family uses to bathe and wash dishes with.

"It's kind of like going back to the old days," Willbanks says.

The island's "bad" water is what comes out of his home's faucet — water he says reeks of fuel. It's the same water state officials are urging a potential 93,000 residents not to use since petroleum products were identified within one of the state's wells.

Residents have complained about negative effects on their health, and some could be displaced from their homes for weeks.

On November 28, the Navy shut off its water system after families said their tap water smelled like fuel. Tests later identified petroleum products in the water, and health officials urged residents against using it for daily tasks. The Navy then suspended operations at its local fuel storage farm, which has a history of leaking.

The military has since provided residents with water and has helped relocate some families. On December 16, tests no longer showed contamination within the water system, the Navy said, but an investigation is still ongoing.

CBS News spoke with families who depend on the Navy's water about how their lives have been changed by the ongoing water crisis.

"The psychological damage is just unbearable." – Frances Paulino

/ Credit: Frances Paulino

Frances Paulino said the air in her backyard "literally smelled like somebody poured kerosene all over" on November 20.

"The fumes in the air were just very unbearable," said Paulino, who serves as a board member for the nonprofit organization Armed Forces Housing Advocates.

On November 21, the Navy insisted there were "no signs or indication of any releases to the environment" and said the drinking water was safe for residents to consume. The Navy later clarified that it had misinterpreted its initial water quality tests.

Paulino said the Navy's updated announcement induced "next-level anxiety."

"I'm trying to tell everybody back then at the top of my lungs that something was wrong, to have services activated," she said. "The pressure in those first few days is something that I wish nobody has to experience."

"You just carry this guilt of 'have I been poisoning my children?' Now you're having to run around and make sure they don't touch water. You've having to deal with the pressure of 'what do I need to do to make sure that they're protected while we're in this house until we can get out?'"

Her family has since been relocated to a hotel, but she says the "anxiety and psychological damage is still there" and that it is "just unbearable."

"You feel like every piece of water you touch now is contaminated regardless of where you are because the damage has already been done," she said. "It just puts us in a position where we don't feel like we can ever trust having that safe space in our homes anymore. That's been robbed of us. That feeling of security and serenity that you feel when you walk through the front door is totally obliterated for us."

On top of the water crisis, Hawaii also saw catastrophic flooding during a storm earlier this month. The weather system brought multiple inches of rain, blizzard conditions to some of the state's highest peaks, a state of emergency declaration for all islands and a loss of power for many homes.

"It just felt like one hit after the other," Paulino said. "The pressure of what we're experiencing now and what we're going through is just incomprehensible unless you're walking in our shoes."

She said her family is in a "fight or flight mode" as she and her husband try to establish some sense of routine for their children in the weeks without drinkable water.

"Our whole worlds have been turned upside down and we're trying to navigate what the best thing to do is for our families as well as trying to deal with the emotional trauma," she said.

"We're stuck on an island that can't provide care." – Nastasia Freeman

/ Credit: Nastasia Freeman

Nastasia Freeman, a licensed counselor who specializes in anxiety and trauma treatment, says she's felt isolated when it comes to her family's health since drinking the Navy's water.

She says her children have experienced symptoms related to fuel-ingestion in recent months like nausea, diarrhea and vomiting. But her 11-year-old son has seen some of the worst of it and has been in and out of the emergency room and has missed nearly a month of school for stomach pain.

"He was lethargic," she said. "I mean, he was laying there. He just looked out of it."

Her son began to recover after taking a prescription stomach medicine and only consuming bottled water. But soon after the 11-year-old began regularly ingesting water from her home's tap, she said, "the illness picked back up again."

By Thanksgiving, she said her family began to smell and taste fuel in her home's water. That's when she and her husband began to report it to various state and local agencies.

When the Navy finally formally addressed its water's smell, Freeman said she became emotional.

"I cried to my husband," she said. "As a parent, you feel disappointment in yourself because you should have been able to see into the future and you should have known something was wrong, but you trust in the system. So to be honest, it was just extreme stress and anger."

Freeman said her young children began taking "freezing cold sponge baths" and were brushing their teeth with bottled water. However, the family has since been relocated to a hotel, while frequently visiting their home.

"[The hotel is] not too far but when you're going back and forth and then your kids are not in that school zone, it can be trying," she said. "We go back and forth for showers and honestly just to get out of the environment because when you're seeing all the water trucks all the time come through the neighborhood, it's heavy. So we take the kids to the hotel."

"It's not just about getting clean water and showering. It's about protecting their mental health and giving us all a break from what our reality is right now."

She says recent flooding and rising gas prices have complicated those efforts.

"We were stuck. We weren't able to get to the hotel or to freshwater so we were just using what we had here at home," she said. "We're stuck on an island that can't provide care."

"It's maddening." – Anthony Willbanks

/ Credit: Anthony Willbanks

Anthony Willbanks, an active service member in the U.S. Army, recalls receiving texts from his wife while he was deployed in July. She told him their three young children were "getting a little sick" and within months, there was community chatter about problems with the neighborhood's water.

"You kind of don't notice whenever you're living in that environment, but it got real serious, real bad," he said.

Soon, his wife began texting photos of their children helping to clean dishes and do laundry outside.

"Our only good water source to be able to drink, she was also having to use for laundry and dishes because it didn't only affect our drinking water," he said. "They don't understand that."

When his deployment ended, Willbanks returned to his home, which he said reeked of gasoline. "The fumes in our house just about knocks us down," Willbanks said. "I've never had health issues, but my chest starts to hurt."

Now, Willbanks and his wife said they're looking to get their first son, who has a pre-existing heart condition, examined.

"By drinking bad water, this could have sped up his process to where he has to get surgery sooner, and we're not sure," he said. "We have to get him checked out again to make sure that it didn't do any more damage than what's already done."

His family has since been relocated to a hotel but Willbanks said he hopes to move his family to another part of the state long-term. . But first, he says he'll have to calculate costs to replace appliances damaged by the contaminated water, which includes a $3,000 refrigerator and a brand new washing machine.

"Every single dish is plastic and petroleum just sticks to it," he said. "It's really hard to clean it and get it to where you can safely eat from it. Now, my wife says we're going to have to get rid of all of our dishes, we're going to get rid of our washing machines, we've got to get rid of our refrigerator."

But through it all, Willbanks says the sense of community between those experiencing similar issues has grown stronger. Many families have created group chats where they regularly check in on each other and share information. "They've been tremendous help," he said.

"They poisoned us." – Jamie Williams

/ Credit: Jamie Williams

Caught between finals for law school, the upcoming holidays, Hawaii's weather and a lack of clean drinking water, Jamie Williams says she's facing "really tough choices."

"It's kind of a never-ending cycle of thinking about how much water do we need and where it's going to come from and 'oh I need to shower today,'" Williams said. "My husband and I went this morning and hauled about 10 gallons of water home and you have to boil it to wash the dishes."

For months, the law student said she has experienced an array of fuel-ingestion symptoms while living alone as her husband was deployed.

"I noticed I was having memory problems and really severe memory problems to the point where it was almost like blacking out," she said. "It's just a black hole which was absolutely objectively terrifying."

She said the mental cognitive issues have affected her studies and were coupled with disruptions to her menstrual cycle as well. When neighbors shared similar experiences, she began to worry.

"A lot of us were Googling early Alzheimers," she said. "Meanwhile, we're in our 30s."

On the morning of November 29, Williams says the water she used to make her coffee "smelled like fuel." She emailed the Environmental Protection Agency that afternoon, she said, and stopped using her home's water and stopped giving it to her pets.

"We made it a few days in the house, but I was having issues. I'm in the middle of finals right now," Williams said. "I would come home to study and the fumes from not even running the water, just the taps in the toilet because the gas is precipitating out of the water, was so overwhelming in my house. I would make it like 40 minutes and then have a headache and be nauseous."

She and her husband bagged off all of their home's faucets and toilets, kept toilet bowl lids down, ran the bathroom fans and made sure to keep doors shut, she said. "But we're still not able to stay or sleep in the home."

When the Navy released its water quality finding, she began putting the pieces together. She recalled seeing gas trucks in her neighborhood before the announcement and remembered the previous health experiences of her neighbors.

"At that point, things shifted in my head," she said. "They poisoned us. They really did. They had knowledge of this. This is just willful ignorance to me."

The situation, she said, has made her rethink living in Hawaii altogether, but that comes with a major decision.

"If I leave Hawaii in this timeframe in January and I don't complete another semester of law school, I have to drop out. I'm not eligible for transfer," she said. "If I wanted to go to a different school, I would have to completely reapply and being quite honest, I'm 36 years old. That's not happening. So it's like stay here or give up your dream."

"It's not really a great set of choices."

STATEHOOD OR INDEPENDENCE
‘An act of rebellion’: the young farmers revolutionizing Puerto Rico’s agriculture



Nina Lakhani in Puerto Rico
Thu, December 23, 2021

Puerto Rico was once a thriving agricultural hub thanks to its tropical climate, rich biodiversity, and sustainable farming traditions.

Today, less than 2% of the workforce is employed in agriculture and tens of thousands of acres of arable land sit idle. Meanwhile 85% of the food eaten in Puerto Rico is imported, grocery prices are among the highest in the US and last year two in five people experienced food insecurity. “Unemployment is brutal, prices are brutal, migration from the island is brutal,” said Denise Santos, who runs Puerto Rico’s food bank.

Puerto Rico, a mountainous Caribbean archipelago, is also one of the places in the world most affected by extreme weather such as storms, floods and droughts. In 2017, Hurricane Maria devastated the islands and people went hungry as ships were unable to dock at the damaged ports.

In the face of so many challenges, a new wave of interest in food and farming among younger Puerto Ricans is flourishing, as part of a wider movement demanding political, environmental and social justice. Small scale sustainable farming known as agroecology is driving a resurgence in locally grown produce that chefs, farmers, entrepreneurs and researchers argue can help revitalize the local economy, improve food sovereignty and both mitigate and adapt to the climate crisis.
What is agroecology?

Agroecology is low impact agriculture that works with nature and local conditions to produce food sustainably so as to protect biodiversity and soil quality while drawing carbon out of the atmosphere.

It involves a set of farming principles and practices that can be adapted to any ecosystem, microclimate and culture – a way of life practiced for thousands of years by indigenous people and peasant farmers. Farmers often integrate crops, livestock and trees (agroforestry) in order to maximize ecological conditions, such as a fruit orchard that aids water retention and provides shade for crops and grazing animals who in turn fertilize the earth to improve the yield.

Crop rotation and crop cover are fundamental to this holistic approach, that takes into consideration the well-being of the Earth, those who produce the food as well as the local communities who eat it. Like in nature, every part of every ecosystem – which includes the farmers – help and depend on each other in some way. Contrast this to intensive industrialized farming which guzzles water, depletes the soil and burns fossil fuels (for fertilizers and powering machinery) to control the environment for genetically identical monocrop production.

Advocates say agroecology offers locally driven solutions to a myriad of interconnected crises including food insecurity, biodiversity loss, environmental degradation and global heating.

Agroecology is a social and political movement seeking to influence public policies so that sustainable farming benefits from government support (tax breaks, subsidies, and bailouts) currently propping up the dominant industrial agriculture system which is a major cause of biodiversity loss and accounts for more than a quarter of global greenhouse gases.

“We would be far better transitioning away from the mess of the fossil fuel, planet-warming, industrial agricultural system that fights against nature, to climate-sensible agroecology that would produce the food we need while helping cool the planet down and increasing our carbon capital,” said Ricardo Salvador, director of the Union of Concerned Scientists’ food and environment program.

Here we profile three agroecology farms striving to change what and how Puerto Ricans eat by challenging the political, economic and agricultural status quo.
The school radicalizing a new generation

El Josco Bravo, Toa Alta

After graduating with a degree in agronomy – the science of soil management and intensive crop production – Ian Pagán-Roig founded the Josco Bravo project in 2004 in the wild Toa Alta mountains as an act of political and social dissidence. At the time, agroecology was either ignored completely or ridiculed as a hippy movement by Puerto Rico’s universities and government officials, so Pagán-Roig started the farm and opened a school to radicalize a new generation of farmers.

“We grew up in a colonial regime being told that without the US we would die from hunger or end up like Cuba. Our ancestors and lands were exploited, agriculture was disparaged, but we are part of a new generation that sees sustainable agriculture and food sovereignty as an act of rebellion,” said Pagán-Roig, 32.

Puerto Rico was one of the first places colonized by the Spanish, who for four centuries exploited the island’s natural resources through the violent displacement of indigenous people and forced migration of enslaved Africans – until the Americans seized it in 1898.

Over time, both occupying forces profited from cash crop plantations where campesinos were forced to work in such miserable conditions that parents pleaded with their children to study hard in order to avoid ending up being a farmer. The poverty and stigma associated with farming helped the US to roll out its industrialization plan in the mid-20th century, leading to an exodus from rural areas as farmers switched to factories. Farmland was abandoned, as manufacturing and then tourism became the mainstay of Puerto Rico’s economy.

“The agroecology revolution on the island is about psychological and social transformation to achieve food and political independence because it recognises our land and people as our most valuable resources,” Pagán-Roig said.

In the past eight years, more than 600 young people have graduated the program, and more than half of them are women – itself a radical change from industrial farming, which is dominated by men. The course now works with several universities across the island, with all students learning scientific principles and sustainable production techniques within a broader social and environmental justice framework. Industrial agriculture remains dominant, but the influence of agroecology is growing in mainstream politics as global heating forces farmers to adapt or fold.

At the farm, education and innovation go hand in hand since extreme unpredictable weather is the new normal. In dry periods they rely on an artificial lake built after the 2014 to 2016 drought – Puerto Rico’s worst in a century. Now they’re building a greenhouse to protect vegetables from heavy rain which set back several crops this year. But genetic diversity in crops is key for natural adaptation to a changing environment, and the small team is currently testing 30 varieties of six vegetables – carrot, cabbage, broccoli, onion, pickling cucumber, and zucchini – to identify which are most resistant to heat, pests and tropical diseases.

The school hopes to celebrate the thousandth graduate during the project’s 10th anniversary, but access to land and capital continue to limit ambitions for small scale farmers.

After hurricane Maria struck and destroyed 80% of crops across the island, Organización Boricua, the oldest food sovereignty and farm justice network where Pagán-Roig serves on the board, organized solidarity brigades to clean up and repair farms so they could quickly start producing food for their communities. Still, access to federal funds remains bureaucratic and painfully slow, and many small scale farmers were forced to sell up. In addition, land prices are rising as speculators and developers take advantage of tax incentives and desperation.

At Josco Bravo, located just 20 miles west of the capital San Juan, only 5 of the 69 acres rented from the department of agriculture are being farmed. The densely vegetated terrain is very fertile but requires substantial investment to clear and there’s no irrigation system and limited road access. The government won’t rent smaller plots, and accessing credit is tough, so large areas of public arable land remain abandoned.

Pagán-Roig said: “We saw with Maria it’s very risky to be dependent on imports for our food, and we have enough good land in Puerto Rico to sustain our fruit, vegetable and starchy dietary needs, but we lack capital resources and political will.”
Fresh food for locals

Güakiá Colectivo Agroecológico, Dorado

The Güakiá project is the collective brainchild of four graduates from Josco Bravo whose main objective is to improve access to healthy affordable food for vulnerable local communities. The farm is located off a highway in Dorado, an economically divided municipality with both multimillion dollar beach homes and families living hand-to-mouth in houses without indoor plumbing.

The land belongs to a New York-based order of nuns who agreed to rent them 11 acres in 2017 for a symbolic amount ($1 per acre per year) after they’d almost given up hope of finding somewhere affordable. Back then it was a mess, having been used for years as an unauthorized rubbish dump, and they were still cleaning up when Maria struck, leaving many without work, shelter, food or clean water. By the beginning of 2018, they were able to share the first crop – plantain, beans, yuca and papaya – with families going hungry.Left: Marissa Reyes-Diaz stands in the sun in a lush field at the Güakiá project farm. Right: A closeup of Marissa Reyes-Diaz's hands holding small green sweet peppers.

“Agroecology has always been a form of resistance against colonial capitalism, and here we are trying to rescue collective working and reject individualism by reconnecting people to the land and food, and building trust and solidarity,” said Marissa Reyes-Diaz, 32, a biology graduate who also works for the nonprofit El Puente: Latino Climate Action Network. (All four members of the collective have second jobs.)

Agroforestry is a big focus here, and there are fragrant fruit trees growing alongside a variety of crops, which has created multiple small ecosystems that help keep precious nutrients and rainwater in the ground. (Diversity enhances a farm’s resilience, as different crops are vulnerable and resistant to different pests, climate extremes and soil deficiencies.) So far the orchards have helped them survive two very dry spells, but it’s not enough to sustain and grow the farm, even with rainwater tanks and water from a neighbouring farmer. They’re trying to raise $40,000 to build a well connecting to the underground aquifer as water remains the biggest obstacle to long term success.

But Güakiá is not just a farm, it’s also a community hub where neighbors come to enjoy the green spaces and try unfamiliar produce such as beets, turmeric roots and wild basil, as well as taste tomatoes fresh from the vine. Some locals volunteer, others exchange their food waste (needed to make compost) for vegetables, and prices remain accessible. They’ve hosted festivals with live music, art exhibitions, self defence classes, yoga and dominos - a very popular Caribbean pastime - and have built an emergency shelter fitted with solar panels ready for the next climate catastrophe. Reyes-Diaz said: “Agroecology has never been just about producing food, it’s also about sustaining our physical and mental health and spiritual wellbeing.”
The foodies supplying the top chefs

Frutos del Guacabo, Manatí

Efrén Robles and Angelie Martinez, the couple who founded Frutos del Guacabo, are foodies not farmers. With little land at their disposal, Robles, an industrial mechanic, and Martinez, a chemist, started out using a soilless growing technique known as hydroponics to grow herbs, watercress and lettuce that chefs at their favorite restaurants struggled to find. Over the past 12 years, they’ve introduced livestock and expanded their techniques and crops, but the close relationship with chefs remains at the heart of the operation which now includes a distribution network with around 50 small farmers and more than 200 restaurants.

The focus is on niche produce that chefs can’t get elsewhere: they grow sishito peppers, a smoky sweet Japanese variety served sauteed coated in sea salt, and the mindblowing habanada, a fairly recent creation by an organic breeder that looks, smells and tastes like the fiery habanero without any of the heat. “We can’t compete with the main chillies and peppers, so we focus on specialties and delivering consistency, which is what chefs want,” said Robles, 40.

Left: Herb and lettuce seedlings started in little spongy blocks, without soil, sit on a table in the sun. 

Right: Two goats poke their heads out of a pen to stare at the camera.

His favorite plant is the lemon drop, a bright yellow bullet shaped solid flower, better known as the toothache plant as it contains a natural anesthetic which briefly numbs the tongue and gums – a bit like popping candy or mild pins and needles. Chefs are sprinkling a few crushed petals in drinks or sorbets as a fun palette cleanser.

The farm hosts open-kitchens: demos where chefs showcase what they can make with non-native ingredients such as eggplants, turmeric and lemon balm, while farmers explain what will grow in their particular microclimates. Connecting small farmers across the island with some of its most celebrated chefs has played an important role in Puerto Rico’s popular farm-to-table movement.

Related: ‘It’s a miracle crop’: the pioneers pushing the powers of seaweed

According to Robles, high-end restaurants play an important role in changing dietary habits. “We work with top chefs to create enthusiasm for new produce that then cascades down to cafes and communities.”

The soil in the central northern part of the island, just south of the Tortuguero lagoon, one of only two natural lakes in Puerto Rico, is very sandy so passion fruit trees are among those planted in compost filled tyres to protect fragile flowers and herbs from the coastal winds. Amaranth, an ancient seed enjoying a resurgence as a superfood in the Americas but which isn’t popular in Puerto Rico, is grown at strategic pointsto serve as a natural pest control. Rabbits and sheep are raised for meat; goats for milk, cheese and dulce de leche, while trying to create new breeds suited to Caribbean conditions.

They recently started experimenting with an intensive but pretty sustainable farming practice that has roots in ancient civilizations like the Mayans and Aztecs. Aquaponics involves raising fish like Tilapia in tanks and then circulating that nutrient rich water to nourish soil-free plant beds of herbs and salad greens, before recirculating the water to the tanks.

But while innovative small farms, farmers markets, pop-up kitchens, vegetable box schemes and farm-to-table restaurants are gaining popularity in Puerto Rico, it’s not easy competing in an economy designed to favor foreign investments and US exports.

Robles said: “Eating is a political act, and reducing our dependence on imported food will help create a locally based more sustainable economy and environment. We’ve a long way to go but I’m going to die trying.”

Withering Crops Highlight La Nina Fears for Brazil Soy Farmers



Tatiana Freitas
Wed, December 22, 2021

(Bloomberg) -- The impact of the La Nina weather pattern that’s expected to roil global food markets in coming months is already showing up in parts of Brazil, the world’s biggest soybean exporter.

In 20 years as a soybean farmer, Adriano Marco Vivian has never seen his fields so dry, with leaves burnt by excessive heat and lack of rain. La Nina can mean drought in many growing areas, including southern Brazil.

“I believe around 70% of the yield potential has been lost,” Vivian, who is based in Parana, one of the top-producing states in the nation’s south, said in a telephone interview. “We haven’t seen widespread rains for more than 60 days,” said the farmer, who planted 700 hectares of soybeans in the state’s west. The picture is similar for all producers in the region, he said.

Parched conditions and heat led Parana’s agriculture agency Deral to cut its estimate for output in the state by 12% on Wednesday, and more may be coming if adverse weather continues, said Marcelo Garrido, an economist at Deral. The prospect of a second straight La Nina trimming what’s otherwise expected to be a bountiful harvest is helping boost soybean prices and adding to worries over global food inflation.

Some local consultancies have already lowered Brazil’s soybean output estimate due to yield losses in the south. That’s the case for Parana-based AgRural, which reduced its production estimate by to 144.7 million tons from 145.4 million in the previous forecast.

For now, farmers in Parana are an exception in Brazil, where beneficial weather has allowed a good crop development in central and northern areas.

“Brazil is still expected to harvest a record crop,” Daniele Siqueira, an analyst at AgRural, said by telephone. “Parana is the only region with consolidated losses so far.”

All eyes will remain on Brazil’s south. Rio Grande do Sul, a top-growing state at the border with Argentina, reported below-average rain during seeding, which is now almost finished. Some farms needed replanting, but yields won’t be known until next year. If good rains fell from now on, the state can still reap a good crop.

While some isolated and weak precipitation may be seen in the south in the coming days, it won’t be enough to restore soil-moisture in time to allow soybeans to recover in Parana, according to Celso Oliveira, a meteorologist at Climatempo in Sao Paulo. Rain should be in line with historical averages starting in the second half of January, benefiting crops in Rio Grande do Sul. But it will be too late for Parana’s, including Vivian’s crop.

CELEBRITY TEQUILA KILLS

Tequila byproduct spill fouls Mexican reservoir, kills fish


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Dead, decomposing fish float in Las Villas river, which feeds the San Onofre reservoir in Ayotlan, Mexico, Thursday, Dec. 9, 2021. The fish are apparent victims of vinasse, a byproduct created in the destillation of tequila, that spilled into a western Mexico water source.
(AP Photo/Refugio Ruiz)

REFUGIO RUIZ and FABIOLA SÁNCHEZ
Wed, December 22, 2021

AYOTLAN, Mexico (AP) — When Jesús Solís noticed the waters of the reservoir where he had spent his entire life beginning to darken and a rotten odor taking hold, he was overcome with fear. Within weeks those initial concerns were confirmed as tens of thousands of dead fish floated to the surface, apparent victims of a spill of tequila distilling waste into a western Mexico water source.

The 44-year-old fisherman watched for days as the fish he had helped raise and that he relied on for income went belly up along the shores of the San Onofre reservoir in Jalisco state.

Authorities determined that millions of liters of a residue known as vinasse created in tequila’s distillation spilled into the Las Animas creek that flows into the reservoir. Jalisco is the heart of Mexico's tequila industry. Some 40% of the state's industrially cultivated land is covered in the blue agave used to make tequila.

The environmental disaster has shaken the residents of Ayotlan, who fear the contaminated waters could pose a threat to their crops and devastate their local fishing cooperative whose families have lost their aquaculture investment and been left without income.

Orión Flores, director of Attention to Socio-environmental Conflicts for the state of Jalisco’s environmental protection agency, said 60 to 80 tons of dead fish had been removed from the reservoir. He added that the die off could continue for days because there was significant aquaculture there.

Aldo Castañeda Villanueva, a professor and researcher specializing in water management at the University of Guadalajara, said “it could take years” until the small reservoir is cleaned up. How long it takes to return to its previous state will depend on weather, prevention of additional spills and how much rain it will take to dilute the contamination.

He said polluting spills of tequila waste were common, but seldom made headlines. He recalled a 2011 case in the Tuxcacuesco river that led to a massive fish die off. A student thesis at the University of Guadalajara determined that vinasse from distillers and sewage had flowed from the Tonaya river into the Tuxcacuesco.

Rather than harvesting their fish, Solís and the other fishermen of his cooperative spent the last days of November scooping them up with an excavator on loan from the city. Tilapia, mojarra, carp and little silvery charales were buried in pits with lime to combat the potent stench of rotting fish.

“It was a really difficult moment to see all of our savings, life, going into those pits,” said Solís, recalling how since he was 8 years old he started fishing with his father. “I felt so sad then, so powerless, so much anger.” Now he worries about what his family will do without their only source of income.

Mauricio Bando, another fisherman, is just hanging on because he took some of his earnings to open a small shop. Now selling snacks and essentials allows him to keep his wife and four kids fed.

“This doesn’t give me much because it’s small, but at least I survive,” said the 43-year-old.

The October spill put his father and brother out of work too. “Our life completely changed.” His 74-year-old father now sells cups of coffee around town from a thermos, while his mother and brother harvest corn.

The state environmental agency, territorial development office, state water commission and environmental prosecutor’s office said this month they would regularly monitor the reservoir and stream’s water to determine what could aid in its cleanup. They also opened investigations to determine responsibility for the spill.

Flores, the state official, said the damage was not irreparable. He said the tequila vinasse affects oxygen levels in a body of water leading to fish kills.

In coming days, the state will bring in equipment to remove weeds in the water that can also reduce oxygen levels, Flores said. The reservoir’s water is also being studied to determine whether it is safe for crop irrigation.

The investigation into the spill is still in its early stages, but some state authorities and Ayotlan residents blame a company that treats waste from the area’s tequila-producing industry. The plant was closed at the end of September after an inspection revealed that one of its lagoons holding vinasse had a rupture in one of its walls, Flores said.

Carlos López de la Cruz, head of sustainability projects for the Tequila Regulating Council, said the responsible party for the pollution at the reservoir “is not a tequila (distilling) company.” He said the plant supposedly at fault had a permit from authorities to treat the waste.

He said the industry is investing in treatment plants and ways to compost vinasse.

“The damage is irreparable and serious,” said Ayotlan Mayor Rodolfo Hernández. The mayor directly blames the Altos Residual Water Treatment plant for the spill. Calls to the plant for comment were not answered.

Castañeda Villanueva, the researcher, said it was not an isolated incident. “The majority of tequila producers in all Jalisco and I believe in all of Mexico seek licenses so their vinasse can be put in the ground, in supposedly controlled land, but the truth is that many what they do is nothing more than cool it, allow it to settle and then dump it in rivers, reservoirs, the sea.

Sánchez reported from Mexico City.

‘House of Welcome’ celebrates over 25 years of Indigenous artistry in Washington

Natasha Brennan
Thu, December 23, 2021

Peeking through the mist and trees of Evergreen State College are intricately carved wooden welcome figures inviting students, staff, artists and visitors to the school’s Indigenous Arts Campus in Olympia. The flags of Pacific Northwest and Pacific Rim Tribes line the ceiling of the grand welcome hall of the longhouse.

Known as an international hub for Indigenous arts, culture and education for more than 25 years, the Longhouse Education and Cultural Center is the first Tribally-directed Native arts center on a college campus in the U.S. Named s’gʷi gʷi ʔ altxʷ or “House of Welcome” in the Lushootseed language, the longhouse provides space for students, artists and the community to gather in celebration of Native art.

Today, the Indigenous Arts Campus is made up of a series of buildings and studios that form a salmon-shaped design; but the world-renowned public service center aimed at promoting Indigenous arts and cultures got its start in 1995.

Becoming a community hub

Evergreen State College is well known regionally and within the world-wide Indigenous community for its Native American and Indigenous Studies program offering an interdisciplinary examination of the histories, cultures, politics and contemporary experiences of Indigenous peoples in the Northwest and beyond.

The program was founded in 1972 by Mary Ellen Hillaire of Lummi Nation, the first Native faculty member at Evergreen. She expressed the need for a culturally appropriate facility that allowed people from all cultural backgrounds to teach and learn from one another on campus.

Working alongside leadership from elders of Pacific Northwest tribes – known as the pillars of the longhouse – students in the Masters in Public Administration program and Longhouse Project Coordinator Colleen Jolie joined Hillaire in bringing the vision of the longhouse to life.

Vi Hilbert, an Upper Skagit elder and conservationist of the Lushootseed language, provided the name s’gʷi gʷi ʔ altxʷ or “House of Welcome” to help foster an environment of hospitality and support for the students and community.

Both the exterior and interior design of the building reflects traditional Coast Salish longhouses but with modern twists. Convertible walls can retract to connect classroom spaces to the welcome hall, forming an open gathering space.

Most of the timber used to build the longhouse was donated by the Quinault Indian Nation with cedar shakes and posts donated by the Burke Museum from the Sea Monster House – a longhouse built for the 1962 World’s Fair in Seattle where the Space Needle debuted.

After its establishment, the longhouse was expanded by 1800 square feet in 2009. The carving studio, fiber arts studio and cast glass studio were built in 2012, 2017 and 2021 respectively and offer programming that support the preservation and expression of Indigenous cultures and art.

With classes at the Olympia campus and local Tribal centers, the curriculum continues to strengthen the college’s connection to Indigenous peoples of the United States, Canada, Aotearoa (the Māori name for what is now called New Zealand) and the Pacific Rim.

The intricate design of the fiber arts studio at Evergreen State College Indigenous Arts Campus in Olympia is inspired by the cultures and art styles of both Coast Salish and Māori (the Indigenous people of what is now called New Zealand) people. Opened in 2017, the studio is fitted with equipment conducive to the specific needs of Indigenous weavers, such as dyeing traditional weaving materials.

Investment and commitment in Native art

Since its opening, the longhouse has hosted gatherings of local, regional, national and international artists, including the first gatherings of the Northwest Native American Basketweavers Association and Northwest Native Woodcarvers.

In 2001, the longhouse hosted the Gathering of Indigenous Visual Artists of the Pacific Rim and continues an artist-in-residency exchange program with Māori artists.

“We host such life-changing events for the artists that join us that they call us family,” said Longhouse Director Laura VerMeulen, who is Tlingit and Haida.

The public service of the longhouse is mostly funded by grants with the generosity of Tribes.

“It means a lot to us that they’re committed and invested in what we do, and we are committed and invested in what they need,” VerMeulen said.

The studios were built with Indigenous artists in mind, each fitted with equipment and stations conducive to their specific needs, such as dyeing traditional weaving materials or carving intricate canoe paddles.

Some of the Indigenous Arts Campus studios only recently were completed and were not open for very long before the COVID pandemic closed the campus. However, when in-person classes were allowed to resume, those in the studios became the experiment and model for how they can work safely at the college.

“This whole campus, along with the carving studio, is new again because of the pause with the pandemic. There’s still artists that are discovering it and others coming here for the first time. It remains exciting,” said Evergreen’s Vice President for Tribal Relations, Arts and Culture Kara Briggs – a Sauk-Suiattle Tribal member.

With a mission to serve contemporary Native artists, most of the art on display is of the vintage of the longhouse.

“Twenty-six years – especially in the Native world – is a very long time. Some of the art is from influential elders who have passed on, others from artists who have become more famous in the years since they got their start at the longhouse,” Briggs said.

Joe Seymour Jr. – a Squaxin Island and Pueblo of Acoma artist known for pieces like his recent salmon project on the Views on Fifth Tower in Olympia – spent some of his early time as an artist at the longhouse.

“He came to a workshop with Preston Singletary and said, ‘That’s it, I want to be an artist.’” VerMeulen said.

The carving studio hosts numerous carving workshops and programming for Indigenous artists at Evergreen State College’s Indigenous Arts Campus in Olympia. Opened in 2012, the studio is fitted with equipment and stations conducive to their specific needs, such as carving intricate canoe paddles.

Multi-generational impact

The longhouse was founded to promote Indigenous art and provide opportunities to Native artists that were non-existent in the region before. Today, there’s a whole generation of local Native youth who have never lived in a world without the impacts of the school’s Native programs and longhouse.

For many in the local Native community, like Squaxin Island artist and carver Andrea Wilbur-Sigo, the school and longhouse have been part of the family for generations.

“My dad went to the school in the ‘80s. I grew up at the longhouse, I was part of it from day one,” Wilbur-Sigo said.

Embedded in the floor of the welcome hall, two wolves intertwined on black granite invite longhouse visitors. The design – depicting the animals that mate for life – was created by Wilbur-Sigo as a wedding present for her husband. She and her mother installed the tile in the hall where generations of their family have and will walk.

“My kids all grew up there. They were babies just toddling around. Now I have one daughter who is a graduate, one daughter currently there, one starting and soon I’ll watch my grandbabies grow there. It’s our legacy,” she said.

In 1995, her father – Skokomish carver Andy Wilbur – completed and installed the wooden Thunderbird that watches over the longhouse entrance with Makah artist Greg Colfax.

Beginning in 1997, Wilbur-Sigo started working with the longhouse as a visiting artist teaching workshops and classes. She said the impact of the longhouse cannot be overstated.

“It brings so many opportunities that people – especially from the non-urban Tribes – wouldn’t be able to have. The longhouse connects different Tribes and people who work in public art while also giving us a place to gather and get to know each other better,” she said.

“Thunderbird,” created by Skokomish artist Andy Wilbur and Makah artist Greg Colfax in 1995, watches over the longhouse entrance at Evergreen State College in Olympia. The longhouse recently celebrated 26 years of working with students, the community and Indigenous artists of the Pacific Rim.

Being in the state capitol has allowed the Indigenous Arts Campus to become a central space for emerging artists to gather, work together and draw inspiration from each other while accessing industry professionals to lead them in the right direction, Wilbur-Sigo said.

This collaboration is put on display during the many annual gatherings at the longhouse, particularly their three popular youth events.

“We work hard to make engaging and exciting events, particularly for the Native youth, because we want people to see a home for themselves here and in a college setting for generations to come,” VerMeulen said.

A model for the country

Since 2005, the public service center has re-granted over half a million dollars to Indigenous artists through grant programs.

The notable Supporting Indigenous Arts Mastery program – or SIAM, a Salish term for a respected elder – that helps colleges achieve its goals of supporting Tribal art is modeled after the work of the longhouse.

“As a leader in Indigenous representation, the work of the longhouse continues to be a model for programs throughout the country,” said Briggs, the Evergreen vice president for Tribal Relations, Arts and Culture.

Despite the challenges of COVID, longhouse faculty and students have persevered through semesters of in-person classes and calls for Indigenous artist participation in “The Longhouse at 25: Across the Waters” exhibition were successful.

VerMeulen said they are working hard to develop curriculum for a proposed Master of Fine Arts in Indigenous Arts program at the college and are hopeful that Native arts sales, exhibitions and performances – though currently paused – will soon be back and outdoors when weather permits.

Reflections on a year

Nora Mabie, GreatFalls

Great Falls Tribune
Thu, December 23, 2021

Jingle dancers dance at a bison release event on the Rocky Boy Reservation.

Thanks for reading First Nations, the Great Falls Tribune's newsletter on tribal news. If you'd like to receive stories like this in your inbox, sign up for the (free!!) newsletter here.

Happy Friday!

Below are some reflections on our most-read Indigenous stories, which include themes of loss, pain, resilience and progress. I hope you'll spend some time not just on these stories, but also on what they say about Indigenous communities in Montana, the values they share and the challenges they face.

COVID-19 vaccines offer hope in tribal communities

Ivoree Morsette, age 7, is all smiles while receiving her COVID vaccine.

In 2021, COVID-19 vaccines brought hope to Indigenous communities, which were disproportionately affected by the virus. A report revealed that between March and October 2020, Native Americans accounted for 19% of Montana's COVID-19 cases and 32% of the state's COVID-19 deaths, yet Indigenous people comprise 6.7% of Montana's population. And a recent report found COVID-19 was the leading cause of death among Native Americans in Montana in 2020.

Native communities in Montana consistently enacted stricter safety protocols than the state, implementing mask mandates, curfews, remote learning and quarantine orders. And when COVID-19 vaccines arrived in Montana, tribes used community outreach and culturally sensitive communication strategies to reassure members that the vaccines were safe.

While Montana's leaders enacted laws that prevent vaccination mandates, tribes offered vaccine incentives, like $500 in gift cards for students who are vaccinated. While there is still progress to be made, tribes' vaccination efforts in Montana proved to be a success. Schools on reservations opened for in-person learning this year, businesses reopened in tribal communities, and the Blackfeet Nation opened the eastern gate to Glacier National Park for tourism.

Rep. Sharon Stewart Pereoy of Crow Agency

A contentious Legislative session

Rep. Sharon Stewart-Peregoy, D-Crow Agency, told the Tribune in March that the Legislative session felt "meaner" than years prior. Rep. Jonathan Windy Boy, D-Box Elder, questioned whether some proposed cuts were discriminatory. And Rep. Tyson Running Wolf, D-Browning, spoke in opposition to a number of bills he said threatened tribal sovereignty.

Lawmakers this Legislative session proposed budget cuts to the Montana Indian Language Program and the only two tribal health jobs within the Department of Public Health and Human Services. While funding for the program and positions was eventually restored, members of the American Indian caucus questioned why support for tribal initiatives wavered.

The House killed legislation that would make it easier for Native Americans on reservations to vote, and tribes filed a lawsuit in May, challenging laws that eliminated Election Day voter registration and a provision that prohibits the paid collection of absentee ballots.

Stewart-Peregoy, chair of the American Indian Caucus, said legislation that targets tribal nations is rooted in stereotypes.

"I'll call it what it is – it's intolerance. For some, it's bigotry; for others, it's racism. A member stated on the floor this session that tribes don't pay taxes. That's a stereotype, and it's not true. A lot of people are just not aware, or choose to be unaware, of these things. They think we don't pay taxes, or that we're all drunk, living off the public dole. Those stereotypes feed bad policy," she told me in May.

Death and loss

Blackfeet tribal members mourn Chief Earl Old Person.

Blackfeet Chief Earl Old Person died in October at the age of 92. Earl was a tireless advocate for Native people, and with his passing, the Blackfeet Nation said it suffered an immeasurable loss.

In February, Duncan Standing Rock, the last of two fluent Chippewa speakers, died at 86. Duncan grew up speaking Chippewa and was the only fluent speaker on the Rocky Boy Reservation.

Joe Sam Scabby Robe, a champion grass dancer who traveled the world for powwow events, died in June at 62. While he was an influential figure in tribal communities, Joe Sam's family was shocked to see his obituary in the Tribune. Too often, the legacies of Native people go uncovered.

Each tribe in Montana has lost dozens of members to COVID-19. And as Indigenous people continue to go missing at disproportionately high rates, two disappearances this year have captured the hearts of the Blackfeet community. Arden Pepion, 3, and Leo Wagner, 26, disappeared in separate incidents from the Blackfeet Reservation in April.

Tribal communities this year also mourned sudden deaths after police encounters. Brendon Galbreath, 21, a member of the Blackfeet Nation, died after an encounter with Missoula police. And Clayburn Grant, 35, was fatally shot by a Fort Belknap police officer. Native Americans are overrepresented in incidents of police brutality, though encounters are underreported.

Combatting racism

Rocky Boy High School basketball coach Adam Demontiney talks with Ben Crebs.

A Cut Bank softball coach stepped down after sending a racist text message to parents. After we published this story, several people said they were shocked to see the Tribune label something racist. I'm glad we did. Two moms on the team stepped in to coach, and the team went undefeated in their tournament.

Last winter, after a controversial call, the Rocky Boy boys' basketball team walked off the court in a game against Malta. While coach Adam Demontiney said the team could've handled the situation better, the walk-off resonated in Native communities, where many believe basketball referees are biased against Native teams.

When rioters stormed the capitol during the Jan. 6 insurrection, Indigenous people noted differences in law enforcement's response at the capitol compared to the 2016 Dakota Access Pipeline protest, where officers pepper-sprayed, tear-gassed and used rubber bullets against members of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and others who were concerned the pipeline would contaminate their water supply.

"It would never be OK for people of color to do this," Bino Garcia, a Lakota language teacher in South Dakota, told the Tribune.

And when Gabby Petito went missing and her name flooded news outlets nationwide, Indigenous people spoke out about the missing and murdered Indigenous women crisis.

"I don't understand how to qualify for this kind of mainstream media coverage. I'm not sure how you get this kind of attention," said Kimberly Loring, whose sister, Ashley, has been missing from the Blackfeet Reservation since 2017.

Progress made

John Pepion and Louis Still Smoking work on a mural on the side of the old fire station in Heart Butte, April 21, 2021. The mural will say 'hope' and dipicts a woman and child.

Responding to mounting pressure amid growing anti-racism movements nationwide, Cleveland's Major League Baseball team became the latest team to change its name. Many Indigenous people in Montana supported the change, arguing that mascots reinforce harmful stereotypes and depict Native people as figures of the past.

On his first day in office, President Joe Biden canceled the Keystone XL pipeline permit. The pipeline path ran through several Indigenous communities in Montana, and Native people feared an oil spill would contaminate their irrigation and drinking water supply.

Cheyenne Foot, an elder of the Fort Peck Assiniboine and Sioux Tribes, cried when she heard about the cancelation.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, my prayers have been answered," Foote said as she wept. "I am so happy. I am just so happy."

Native artists Louis Still Smoking and John Pepion installed several murals in Heart Butte schools and around the community. The murals, which evoke cultural elements, are meant to inspire Indigenous pride.

After gaining federal recognition in 2019 after a generations-long fight, the Little Shell Tribe this year opened a new tribal health clinic and launched a food sovereignty program. The health clinic aims to reimagine Indigenous health care by offering comprehensive and preventive services, and the food sovereignty program reclaims the tribe's history, as it's based on Hill 57, where the tribal members were once forced to survive without sufficient shelter, food or water.

In October, the Chippewa Cree Tribe welcomed the return of 11 bison to its homelands. The release marked the first time that bison had roamed the Rocky Boy Reservation since the early 1990s.

Native representation is on the rise

Two television shows, "Reservation Dogs" and "Rutherford Falls," premiered this year, symbolizing a breakthrough in Native representation in media. Too often, Native people are portrayed in media as victims of violence, being overly spiritual or uncivilized or talking to animals, but these new shows aimed to change that.

Every writer, director and series regular in "Reservation Dogs" is Indigenous – Danny Edmo of the Blackfeet Nation is the show's stunt coordinator. One of the glories of "Reservation Dogs," which has been nominated for a Golden Globe, is that it captures so well everyday life in Native communities, and Indigenous people in Montana loved it.

"Rutherford Falls" was the first show to have a Native American showrunner (Sierra Teller Ornelas); it also has five Indigenous writers and many Indigenous actors. The show uses humor to tackle difficult questions, like who gets to tell history? And why are some versions of that story told more often than others?

And then in March, Native communities in Montana celebrated a victory for representation when Deb Haaland, a member of the Laguna Pueblo Tribe, was confirmed as Interior Secretary. Haaland became the first Native American to hold a cabinet secretary position. Tribal members in Montana celebrated her historic confirmation.

As Gerald Gray, chairman of the Little Shell Tribe put it: "She understands us, she is us."

Celebrating outstanding Indigenous women

Lenise Omeasoo

Indigenous women are too often featured in the news when they are victims of brutal crimes. Rarely are they celebrated in media for driving change in their communities. The Tribune's Outstanding Indigenous Women series hopes to change that.

This year, we featured Misty LaPlant, who breaks barriers within law enforcement and Annita Lucchesi, who survived trafficking and founded Sovereign Bodies Institute. We wrote about Deborah Maytubee-Shipman, who uses Facebook to help families find their missing loved ones, and Tescha Hawley, who helps rural Montanans navigate the health care system. And we met Lenise Omeasoo, who makes beautiful jewelry and uses TikTok to combat cultural appropriation.

New voices in the news

Students of the Buffalo Hide Academy collect willow branches for stick ball on the first day of class, Tuesday, August 26, 2021.

This year, with your help, I was able to launch this newsletter, which has allowed the Tribune to feature new and diverse voices.

In this newsletter, we heard from Native parents who must talk to their children about the missing and murdered Indigenous people crisis, we exposed a problem within FBI policy, we shared stories of Native boys who wear their hair in braids and we asked Native people what they thought of Thanksgiving. We celebrated Native artists Ben Pease and Elias Jade Not Afraid and we heard from rappers Foreshadow and Supaman.

This newsletter celebrated a woman's courage as she navigates her stutter, we analyzed how Native communities use Facebook for news and we highlighted the unique efforts of an alternative school on the Blackfeet Reservation.

Thank you

Teepees outside of Great Falls Public Schools

This work wouldn't be possible without you. Thank you for reading this newsletter, for supporting the Tribune and for trusting me with your stories.

Please note, there will be no First Nations newsletter next week, as I will be spending time with family for the holidays. I hope you all have a safe and restful holiday.

Nora Mabie

Indigenous Communities Reporter, nmabie@greatfallstribune.com

This article originally appeared on Great Falls Tribune: Reflections on a year