Tag Archives: Rimbunan Hijau

The Karawari Community meeting in Namata: Saying NO to Mining

Nancy Sullivan | Nineteen Years and Counting

19 yearsOn 1st April the overnight PMV to Hagen from Madang was filled with buai bags, enough to buy a car. We arrive 7 AM in Kagamuga, giving us enough time for a full breakfast at the Resort Lodge, before the small plane to Karawari. Apparently an order of toast in the highlands is a full order, filled with toast. No mucking around. Here’s fiften pieces of toast and a slab of butter for you.

Joe our relative the policeman has been woken up and is barely fifteen minutes before he arrives in spit-polished boots, uniform and a new looking anorak, with a rucksack, to join me at the TNT airfield space. Nevertheless, and as if channeling some Marks Brothers’ routine , our crusty colonial pilot chides Joe on being punctual.

“Yu save long taim blong kiap na pasin blong ol waitman ah?’

“Actually,’ I say, “Joe is a policeman,” trying to halt the flow of Tok Masta. Joe smiles and shakes the man’s hand.

Weve come first for a police matter. Negotiations between two villages with equally compelling and  unrealistic stories. But sides are so committed to their versions that everyone defends with vehemence. For one side a local Priest actually told the villagers they were all invited to Christmas Mass this year, everyone but for those ghastly troublemakers. For the other side, this is sacrilege of untruths. Who would disinvite the bad boys? One of them moseyed over Christmas Day, after a series of threats and mildly violent thrusts and parries between enemies, only to get chopped with an axe. This made him aggrieved, and he would ask K1000 for every stitch he got in his shoulder –45— and in consideration of the pain endured. Poor lad, I say. Would that be before or after his enemies itemized the scars from his bushknife? Or maybe we should measure the pain against every woman ere in the haus win who’s had a baby in the bush? On a level of 1-10 what pain would your cut be? (women laughing in background—score one for the tougher sex). Still, he looks like murder incorporated as he approached Joe and I.Shirtless, bulked out, bad tattoos, six pocket trousers, dragging a bushknife with a scowl—a regular Iron Man from Central Casting. Yet he agrees to take the matter to District Court.

Second  on our agenda is a meeting up in the mountains behind the Karawari Lodge between all the Penale landowners potentially effected by the Mining Exploration License Application taken out by Pristine 18, yet one more RH-backed company with an irony-free name. But to get there we need to motor around to the Yimas lakes and pick up members of our mob, including the Karawari Cave Arts Project’s own Ron Moody-as-Fagin, Albert, who lives with his wife Esther, and (I discover) –even more appropriately— a ‘borrowed’ solar panel from our team. Guess You Gotta Pick A Pocket or Two.

We meet up with the team from The National Museum in Imboin. Chief Conservator Francis
Bafmatuk, Chief Archaeologist Herman Mandui, and staff anthropologist Tiko Wandu. Tiko has worked with our team before and he was to have forewarned his colleagues that traveling to caves might involved several days of arduous trekking. Alas, they are surprised four days won’t be enough to see more than one or two caves, and they will miss the long trek to Namata for the big meeting.  Instead they go to see caves in Imboin and Awim, to report back to the Museum. They hope to make the case for  the Karawari Caves as National Cultural Property.

Because the Arafundi River was high but not high enough, we could motor only slightly farther thn the branching toward Kandamkunda and Meakambut territory before having to start our climb to Namata. Joe the policeman wearing leather boots (not for long), Bonny Mapat (Dodger to Albert’s Fagin), Steven Yakayaban (who walked these caves with Rhys Jones and Paul Gorecki some thirty years ago), my sons Chris and Jeffrey, the Sepik Spirit boat manager, Lukas (who was also our
photographer, thankfully), Albert Kasi, Simon Yambor of the Karwari Council, Solomon Yakari from Imboin, Martin Mariap of Imboin, and plenty of others headed into the bush by midday. The highlights of this walk will always be the five river crossings.

Now, when I say river crossings, I do not mean jumping across slippery stones. Nor do I mean wading through strong currents. Or bumbling across pebbles in the deep. I mean thrusting your torso through torrential waters with a, finding ground, turning back to help the others get across. Those others would be (for one), me. Cargo-free I am more liability than not and Im not too proud to say it took two men on occasion to keep me from fluttered like a prayer flag downstream. Once I nearly took Jon, a 50 kilo Meakambut man, hostage on a wild ride down the Arafundi that might have been a scene from The Deer Hunter— but that his feet found purchase in time and we made the other side.

Like a big spin cycle washig the bloodstains left by leeches from our clothes.  Call me Jungle Girl, and forget for a minute the old woman who slipped and fell so often she could have used a helmet, but it was a 5 ½ hour walk over mossy logs, knotty roots, vines, and stinging and prickling things everywhere (I believe that’s what Stephen Jay Gould would call them, prickling things). Two litres of water went into my body and none of it came out as pee. But when I took off my canvas boots that night, four toes had turned new colours. And Lucas’ feet had come up bright orange after wearing his Doc Martens. Plenty of plasters got distributed to toes and heels and ankles all around. Then I planted my boots to dry on poles like two severed heads of war.

Such a pleasure to see Anton Lutz in Namata, who had walked down from Kaiam. Ever kind and
cheerful, he’d finished an even longer trek and was well settled by the time we clawed ourselves up the last hill to shake his hand. We were suddenly in the highlands—where the Penale call themselves Andai and their neighbours the Maramuni were standing around with shotguns and headbands for a compensation matter. Only hours before we’d been puttering up the Arafundi, where the pitpit grass is dotted with men in canoes facing the embankments with raised spears, absolutely stone still, waiting for a rubbermouth to swim by, like so many Roman statues
along a Villa Borghese garden path.

Here we are in Enga. Anton says the Namata and everyone up to the Enga border are on the Engan (as well as the East Sepik) electoral rolls. Lots of good t shirts for Fly Emirates and Levis 501, but the unifying theme, as always, was Bob Marley. Just as we could see his face folding over the legs of Arafundi fishermen below, here his face smiled out from at least three t shirts. Up on top of the mountain crest, where people standing on a knoll are backgrounded in flattened perspective by rainforest across the valley, the Bob Marley sportwear really doubles the confusion. Some of his images are so lifelike in size that Ive counted men twice and found myself smiling back at Bob as we pass on the river

But whereas the Sepik is all about shirtlessness and pants beneath the arse grass, up here we have   exposed gluteus maximus below and sweatshirts or flannels shirts above. That’s the highlands. High waisted arse grass bustles. Ladies in beaded choker necklaces, knit caps all around. A few ferns placed centre forward on men’s hair. One excellent baseball worn Midwestern farmer style, resting gently on the crown of a young man’s head. Mika from Moinene wore a faded tshirt saying A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as Anton points out.

My son Jeffrey handed Anton a letter from Yimas, which turned out to be a marriage proposal. A young woman on the river had seen Anton three years ago and set her mind on marrying him. Ever since her father had been pleading to negotiate terms, sending these proposals to open discussion
every few months. Anton dropped the paper and sighed. He’d never even met the girl. But I took a look at the letter. Apparently her name is REHAB. Pronounced Ray-ab of course, but written like the second chapter of a Jacqueline Suzanne novel, forecasting twenty years in the future after this lovely couple has settled down in Marin County and the girl’s grown bored and bitter with
kaftans, car pools and enameled nails, as  happy hours grow to Zoloft and graduate to crystal meth…and I  suddenly remembered where I was!
But still, the only thing I could think of was Anton on a stage somewhere, doing an Amy
Winehouse turn, slumped to the mic, singing

They tried to make me marry Rehab but I said ‘no, no, no’
Yes I’ve been black but when I come back you’ll know know know
I ain’t got the time even if her daddy thinks I’m fine
They tried to make me marry Rehab but I won’t go go go

Meakambut friends have walked over from their eastern caves. Little Wapi is here,
the lad I once carried down the mountain sick, now tall and hale with other Namata kids. White clouds were sitting in the valleys around us and I counted 12 houses in the ridgetop settlement.  One man carries a water bottle filled with orange cordial; how little it takes to signal status: a packet of Tang tells everyone you’ve been to town. Somehow, amidst all this highlands scenery our Steven from Yimas still looks like a displaced aging surfer dude with coppery tan and ratty board shorts, sucking on daka like a doobie.

Robert from Auwim has grown an Amish beard around his mug which, under a tartan golf cap, adds a leprechaun flair. Definitely me own gene pool, aye. Standin on de pot a gold. Even more endearing when he sheds his green t shirt to wear like earmuffs sprouting from the cap. Erin go bragh.

Up the notched log ladders we collapsed on the verandah of a house they’d set aside for us.
Anton told us that the afternoon waiting for us on that porch some young men were joking around and then said Shhh—-quiet now, Nancy will be here—no more laughing! —-Now I want this caution to precede me everywhere. There will be no smiles when Nancy arrives!

One of the bigmen in Namata is married to a ‘telikom’ girl from Hagen—someone courted
during the time Telikom negotiated to place a tower on the Kaiam hillside. She was lovely and self-possessed, much more cosmopolitan than the local girls. Not a giaman missus by any means—no plucked brows or jerry curls. Just a posture and a smile. And when she walked by our crowded verandah, all heads turned like spectators watching a ball fly across the field, in one great collective and silent wolf whistle. I could only think for the gazillionth time how hard it is t be a young woman in Hagen. She may have felt cheated when she realized her prince lived in remote unserviced Namata, but she could walk freely across the singsing ground in these parts.

We sit around dumbstruck and sore for a while, catching up with old friends and meeting all kinds of people who’ve walked in from Imboin, Imanmeri, Yamandem, Moinene, Andambit, Kupin, Awarim, Namaia, Kaiam, and Meakambut. Everyone here because they heard about the meeting  at Imboin two weeks ago when a chopper arrived with white men and an MRA rep to declare their interest in this great swathe of their customary land. They called themselves Pristine #18 and explained to the few in attendence that they’d applied for a license to explore for gold on everything from the top of Mt MacGregor down to the Yimas Lakes. The license area was marked on their map as ELA 2008. Imagine someone walking into your neighbourhood with a map of gerrymandered boundaries that curt across lawns and schoolyards and shopping centres and village greens, saying this is where they wish to dig now.

All those in attendance were  familiar with gold on their ground,  theyd been panning it for a few years already. They weren’t surprised by the interest, although a chopper had never arrived to express it so convincingly before. Some were charmed by talk of ‘Landowner Benefits Packages’ and ‘Incorporated Landowner Groups’—as you would be if you’d never had enough school or small business exposure to know this was just jargon for resettlement, squalor, hunger, minimum wage work, polluted rivers and decimated hunting grounds. These few were still mulling over these phrases when we arrived in Yimas, and then Imboin, where we started to pass around a paper petition against the ELA 2008 for landowners to sign. A handful of Yimas men, living in overcrowded swamp villages, were still reluctant to sign, but we quickly picked up hundreds of signatures from other villagers running up the Arafundi to the meeting ground in Namata on 6 April.

The next day our big meeting began. Everyone stood around in circles for some time, bigmen
and their entourages–thrumming on tension that didn’t really exist, before sitting down to business. The Appalachian meeting of the Karawari Forgotten had been called. And every big man from the under-serviced and under-represented Upper Arafundi and Karawari River communities was there. Sitting in orderly lines around a central clearing between three houses, where interested
observers filled the verandahs. The white people were there under one verandah’s shade: Anton Lutz, the Lutheran Mission worker constructing an airfield in Kaiam, son of the beloved Dr Steven Lutz, RIP, who long provided the area’s only medical services from their health post in Kaiam; Anton grew up in these hills and knows everyone in the upper Penale Andai area well. Me, Nancy
Sullivan, leader of the Karawari Cave Arts Project and a well known presence in the area for twentysomething years. And also Lucas, German Manager of the Sepik Spirit riverboat, along for the ride and wielding the all-important videocamera. Our opera box was nothing to the gallery of dignitaries across the clearing. There were the real Members of the Commission: Matthew Kongop representing Namata and Imboin. Jack Yulaso there for the Meakambut. Eddie Nambu for the Imanmeri. Albert Simi for the  Yamandem and Wombromus villages. Mika Wapi was there from Moinene, respresenting the Ewa. Matteos Paul and Luke Raymond were there for the powerful Andimbit faction. James Martin for Kupin. Ipare Wapale from Awarim, Simeon Tika from Kaiam. And Bonny Mapat from Yimas, Solomon Yakaman from Imboin. And Simon Yambori representing the Karawari Rural LLG Council.

Jack the Meakambut Pastor opened with a prayer. We then listened to each and every community speak their minds about commercial mining, their fervent desire to stay on the land, not be dominated by opportunistic investors, and control their own resources themselves. After decades of government neglect, they were conscious of how little they could do so themselves, but in agreement that this means more young people must be educated to take the reins. The fact that they cannot offer informed or free and fair consent to any outsider right now makes them all the more determined to wait and develop on their own terms, rather than gamble the pot of gold they sit on for short term gains to be shared with disinterested foreigners. It was really impressive to watch this roll call of collective identity formation—everyone together against the exploitative foes
of national government and commercial resource extraction. They were keen to pan their own gold, but not to destroy their own land. They needed market, education, health, all the things the government has long denied them—all the planks of their current underdevelopment. 
And most of all they would not be moved from their land or denied their subsistence base. Land is life.

My speech was about the caves, about what they do and should mean to them, what they might mean to the world, and why their conservation is a viable option to commercial mining and logging. With me was a poster sized classroom map which I’d marked with points representing every country or region from which people had signed the online petition—showing them the enormity and spread of the overseas support their cause and the conservation of the caves had already
received. Nothing like visual aids. This got passed around with the print-out of the online petition itself, which no one could fully read, but all could admire. No one could have imagined that in the two weeks since that Pristine #18 chopper had landed in Imboin, we  could pull together this kind of groundswell not just within the Angoram District (because these numbers sitting in Namata were unique and impressive), but also in Parliament with national members championing our cause, and then the world—people from Trinidad and Tobago, Africa, Malaysia, Slovenia, Poland, Latvia and Chile—all of whom had read the story of their plight against Pristine #18 and saw the need to save
the caves.

Speeches went on for four hours. Anton began his with two wonderful parables, the first about Joseph spurning physical and psychological temptation and being rewarded for righteous perseverance in the end. This is the real idiom of public speaking in the highlands, today’s tok piksa from hours and hours of Bible study, so that Joseph, this familiar character of legend can walk into our own problem and point to a clear way forward. And Anton has a calm and authoritative manner. An easygoing non-homoletic way that makes it easy to see why he is so deeply admired by the Penale. But nothing in the entire meeting surpassed one final exchange between Anton and Mathias, an Andimbit gent with a need to raise the stakes. You could see right away that this guy had always been a thorn in Anton’s side, and his asking the eternal rhetorical questions of public meetings in PNG was really a personal volley back to the young man who ran the medical post in Kaiam. Now that you are telling us not to mine our gold, what can you offer instead? How can you improve our lives now? Mathias asked.

Anton let the rain fall. Took a breath and asked, in measured tones began  Socratic reply: ‘Mathias, do you pay school fees?’ (no) ‘Do you pay for medical services?’ (no) ‘Do you pan for gold?’ (yes) ‘Did you get money from the Telikom tower?’ (yes) ‘Do you save your money for your family?’ (no) ‘Do you come help me when I’m out in a tractor for weeks on end making your airfield?’ (no). The entire meeting fell quiet. Mathias, to his credit, stood and allowed himself to deflate under Anton puncturing. ‘Nau yu laikim wanem samting long mi?’ Anton asked. What more do you want? Trusting Anton to lower not raise the tension, Mathias stood with bowed head, but not in defeat, rather in agreement. He did not bark back, did not push, and for that Anton backed away uickly. He reminded everyone that the government had denied them these services, not the  church or
the companies or any single private citizen. Their entitlement is misplaced if they think anyone can give them development, in fact. The process starts with themselves. They must know what they value and what they want to conserve and what they want to become.

Eventually,after much talking and very little animus, Jack led a closing prayer and Matthew
from Namata closed the meeting with group claps.

We spent the afternoon collecting the rest of 541 names for our landowner petition. And growing hungry because the community had been ill prepared to host so many visitors, and we’d left 10 kilos of sago on the river to lighten our load. A gentle reminder that there would never be enough money, enough Landowner Benefits Packages to sustain future generations of Penale displaced from the forest and their rivers to allow Malaysians and Australians to ‘help’ them mine for gold.


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Opposition continues to grow against RH mining in historic caves

A second international petition has been launched opposing Rimbunan Hijau’s plans for mining in the historic Karawari caves region of Papua New Guinea…

Oppose Mining in Historic Papua New Guinea Caves

Nicole Liddicote | Forcechange

Target: Prime Minister of Papua New Guinea, Peter O’Neill
Goal: Stop attempts by large company to obtain permits to explore and mine ancient caves

The Karawari Caves of Papua New Guinea consist of an extensive network of caverns that contain ancient cave art done by the Meakambut people, who still live in the area. This group of nomadic hunter-gatherers is believed to be some of the last to still exist in Papua New Guinea.

The images that can be found throughout the Karawari caves, though not officially dated, are similar to drawings found in other areas of the world including Borneo and Western Australia that date back tens of thousands of years. They provide not only artistic and cultural significance, but historical importance as well, as these cave drawings can provide clues to ancient cultures’ ways of life.

Now, a local company called Pristine Number 18 has made attempts to apply for a permit to begin exploration of the area. The intent of Pristine Number 18 is to search for precious minerals, including gold, and ultimately, to mine the caves if such metals are found. This would result in the destruction of the Karawari caves, and the historic art within.

According to Nancy Sullivan, an anthropologist and founding member of the group Nancy Sullivan and Associates, the preservation and study of these cave drawings is of utmost importance. Their group of Papua New Guinea ethnographers has been present in the area for seven years, living amongst the Meakambut and studying the ancient caves. According to Sullivan, the organization has set up schools and health services in the area, and has provided funding for further infrastructure in exchange for the opportunity to preserve and study the ancient drawings in the caves.

Not only does Pristine Number 18’s attempts to explore and eventually cause destruction in the area threaten the historic caves, but it also endangers the Meakambut’s society, and the potential for more income from scientists and researchers in the future. These caves provide a glimpse into the history of the Meakambut, as well as the possibility for a prosperous future.

Demand that the Prime Minister of Papua New Guinea reject Pristine Number 18’s application to explore, and ultimately destroy, these precious caves in their voracious attempts to mine for gold.

Sign the Petition: http://forcechange.com/62791/oppose-mining-in-historic-papua-new-guinea-caves/

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Dear Byron Chan: Letter from Survival International

via Nancy Sullivan | Nineteeen Years and Counting


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NGO petitions PNG government over ancient caves

ABC Radio Australia

A Papua New Guinean NGO is calling for online petition signatures to protect historic caves in East Sepik province from mining exploration.

A Papua New Guinean non-government organisation is calling for online petition signatures to protect historic caves in East Sepik province from mining exploration.

The petition is addressed to the country’s prime minister Peter O’Neill and mining minister Byron Chan in an effort to stop the government granting an exploration license to an Australian subsidiary of Asian logging giant Rimbunan Hijau.

Kenn Mondiai, Partners with Melanesians executive director, has told Radio Australia’s Pacific Beat they are hoping to get support from within the Pacific, including Papua New Guinea, and the international community.

“With very little anthropological and archaeological excavation and knowledge from these caves, at this point it’s too early and we should not endanger the historic documents and records kept in the cave,” he said.

Mr Mondiai says the caves in the Karawari region of the East Sepik Province could date back 20,000 years.

A team of ethnographers have been documenting the area for just under seven years.

He says the group has collected over 500 signatures so far.

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Sign the petition against RH mining in the Karawari caves

Members of the public are being urged to help the community campaign against notorious logging company Rimbunan Hijau and its plans for commercial mining in the internationally famous Karawari caves area of East Sepik by signing an on-line petition:


The petition will be forwarded to Mining Minister Byron Chan and Prime Minister Peter O’Neill before any decision is made on the application process for Pristine #18’s exploration license

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PNG Rock Art under threat by mining exploration

Valuable Papua New Guinea rock art is under threat from mining exploration by a company associated with the Malaysian logging giant Rimbunan Hijau.

ABC Radio Australia

The Rimbunan Hijau affilliate, called Pristine Number 18, has applied for an exploration licence in the Karawari region of East Sepik Province..

The area contains an enormous cave art system with stencils and images that may date back as much as 20,000 years.

Nancy Sullivan is an anthropologist who’s been working with the people of the region for seven years … and with organisations like the National Geographic Society and the Guggenheim and Rockefeller Funds, to document the art.

Presenter: Jemima Garrett
Speaker: Nancy Sullivan, anthropologist

SULLIVAN: Those caves are probably the largest cave art system in the Southern hemisphere because there are 300 plus caves and maybe as many as 300 are decorated with stencils. And they are related to caves that have already been discovered and dated in Kalimantan, Borneo, and in Western Australia. So they are part of a larger swathe of migration handmarks that when people first came and populated Melanesia and down, of course, into Australasia, the migrations of the Melanesians, the first Papua New Guineans, the cultural heritage of the Karawari area, so much is at stake that we can’t even assess it at this stage because we are so early on in the project.

GARRETT: So just how much of the art have you been able to document so far, and how much more is there to be recorded?

SULLIVAN: We have about 150 caves recorded and documented and what we have been doing since 2007 with a group of Papua New Guinean ethnographers and archaeologists as well as some visiting scholars is to try to create a story about this, you know a history, of, of, piece together who might have been the first people to make these stencils but importantly who continued to make these stencils because there are people who still live in the caves now, and continue to stencil, or at least have until this past generation.

GARRETT: You say the people of the area don’t want exploration taking place on their land. Why?

SULLIVAN: Well they are breaking into gardening into gardening so they are becoming sedentary gardeners. We’ve encouraged them to plant cocoa and they have set up a village and stuff but they do not want intrusion from either neighbours or anyone from outside. They are very aware now of what it means for them not having land. as people who afre lower on the totem pole than anyone else in that whole area. They are a very small people. They are a limited group of people who are relatively under-resourced compared to their neighbours and certainly have had no government services, they know that they will be overwhelmed and exploited, not just by outsiders but by their neighbours. So they are extremely concerned that they not be intruded apon, that they will be allowed to develop their land as they want to and are content to live on it which is exactly what mining and logging, because Rimbunan Hijau, of course, is really a logging company, that has gotten into mining as a way of maintaining its health in this country because it has logged us all out. Now they are coming in tandem with gold mining exploration companies so they can take the logs out while the miners will take the gold. But that would, of course, devastate these people. They would have nowhere to go. They would have nowhere to go and no means ..at this point they have had no education, no health services other than those that we have, most recently, been able to provide. They are a completely disenfranchised population.

GARRETT: You have made a plea to the international community to oppose the issuing of this exploration licence that Pristine Number 18 has applied for. How much support are you getting?

SULLIVAN: We have in the past week already gotten a lot of attention from mining organisations and activists overseas yet we know really that it is a matter of tweaking individual people at the Mineral Resources Authority and the Mining Ministry and Byron Chan, who is actually a very savvy young man who has taken the Minstership now and we want to make them aware of what is at stake. We don’t think they are aware of what is at stake. We don’t think that they are interested in destroying or embarrassing the country, at this point, by destroying one of its most important sites of cultural heritage. We just think they haven’t been made aware of it so we are trying to create as much noise as possible and (inaudible) apon them because it may only rest on the decision of one or two people.

GARRETT: How urgent is this issue?

SULLIVAN: It is extremely urgent because once you get an exploration company in there it is a slippery slope, you know, they will never come out. You know they will see what is there and never come out. And these people have been working so hard with us for the past seven years and we haven’t yet produced a book so there is no terra firma on which they can stand and say ‘this is us’ and defend themselves. We are alos applying for World Heritage listing so a lot is at stake. A lot is at stake. And it is urgent because a decision can be made, to go ahead or not, within the next 2 weeks.

GARRETT: As you say once companies have spent a lot of money on exploration, if they find something it is hard to stop development. Bougainville’s President, John Momis, has just drawn up draft legislation which would allow landowners to veto exploration on their land. Is that something that should be considered more broadly across Papua New Guinea?

SULLIVAN: Absolutely! Absolutely, because we learn from the Ramu Nickel case, for example, that one, ..you know, it’s the proponents of investment that make things inevitable and rather than the right or wrong of the environmental impact assessment or social impact assessment, ultimately once somebody has invested enough to go for a licence, it is very hard to pull out.

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Infamous logging firm Rimbunan Hijau trampling over customary rights

RH descends upon the Meakambut

An RH company called PRISTINE #18—is that a joke?

Not funny at all. Rimbunan Hijau is partnered with a Western Australia company (their website is http://www.siburan.com.au) to  ‘explore’ for gold in the Upper Karawari/Arafundi. Across the heart of the Karawari Cave Arts Project and the home of the Meakambut people. Thus far no one in the Penale tribe has signed anything, but their southern neighbours who seem to have invited them into the region are eager to give away the rights of their less literate and more vulnerable neighbours…..

Read more on Nancy Sullivan’s blog: Nineteen Years and Counting

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