Indigenous Communities
These indigenous communities emphasize the ability of seaweeds and marine plants to support food independence, climate resilience and connections to tradition.
To the uninitiated, the first taste of the red Hawaiian seaweed known as limu kohu ( Asparagopsis taxiformis ) can be unpleasant: intensely iodine-rich and bitter, with all the marine intensity of an oyster but none of its sweetness. O'ahu resident Malia Heimuli does not find it palatable, or “ ono ” (the Hawaiian word ono is used to mean something “good to eat”). And yet, the older people who are a part of her life can't get enough..
“I'm not used to its taste, but my grandmother and mother keep repeating: 'Give me this [seaweed] every day',” Heimuli laughs.
But something is changing, in Hawaii as well as around the world. Heimuli is the coordinator of a community group called Limu Hui, a partnership or assembly focused on limu. Based at the non-profit community Kuaʻāina Ulu 'Auamo (KUA), Limu Hui seeks both to restore the health of Hawaii's limu species and to pass on ancient limu knowledge treasured by elders to future generations.
Poe explains that such work not only allows for autonomy, but also the “revival of knowledge” around resource management from an indigenous context: one that recognizes “the kinds of inherent responsibilities and kinships that locally rooted indigenous peoples have with the their environment".
These projects take many forms, including education, ecosystem restoration, commercial agriculture, research, or a combination of these.
In Haida Gwaii, a lush island chain in British Columbia (Canada), it's all about education and rehabilitation. Every spring, divers swim along once kelp-forested shorelines with tools at hand to remove sea urchins.
Two centuries without sea otters, hunted for the fur trade, have left these coasts overrun by sea urchins, the otters' favorite meal.
Sea urchins have been voraciously feeding on the aptera that keep kelp anchored to the seabed, decimating the kelp forests of Haida Gwaii. With the decline of kelp, the Haida people also face the disappearance of many traditional foods, including abalone, which also grazes on kelp, and herring, which spawns on kelp. Herring instinctively lay their eggs on the broad leaves of kelp forests, producing a creamy, crunchy delicacy that is enjoyed both raw and cooked.
“The work we are carrying out directly affects food security, food independence and climate resilience, because kelp forests are a combination of all of these,” says Jaasaljuus Yakgujanaas, shellfish biologist at the Council of the Haida Nation. which has been part of the kelp recovery program since 2018.
Overexploited kelp forests become “sea urchin deserts”. These have proliferated there so much that they do not have enough food. Hedgehogs enter a "zombie" state by slowing down their metabolism and reabsorbing their reproductive organs.
With the regrowth of kelp, the Haida Nation hopes to see the return of abalone as well. Yakgujanaas points out that the elders used to harvest abalones as a reliable food source, while she has never been able to as their numbers have always been too low for sustainable harvesting.
Kelp forms the backbone of healthy ecosystems, providing food, shelter and oxygen. Haida kelp restoration is therefore driven by the indigenous people's awareness of the interconnection between healthy seaweed and the health of the entire ecosystem.
On the central coast of British Columbia, Heiltsuk Nation and scientists from Simon Fraser University conducted research to understand whether commercial harvesting of the feather boa algae ( Egregia menziesii ) could be sustainable for both the alga and the ecosystem it serves. he claims. The study found that by following the traditional Heiltsuk practices of harvesting only a portion of each individual seaweed at a time, it grew back more vigorously.
“People have been thrilled with the results. If we continue to follow these partial harvesting practices, we can achieve sustainability just as the Heiltsuk knowledge suggests,” says Hannah Kobluk, a researcher and PhD at Simon Fraser who took part in the project. Kobluk explains how their research highlighted "the richness that comes from tapping into multiple forms of knowledge, whether it's indigenous, local, from the fishermen themselves…it all fits into a much more complete picture."
In Alaska, the Cordova-based Native Conservancy has initiated several pilot kelp cultivation programs. The goal is to create "a regenerative seaweed economy based on conservation, restoration and mitigation, not just another resource extraction practice in Alaska," said founder and president Dune Lankard, a member of the Eyak tribe.
Lankard hopes their kelp farms not only provide fresh, frozen and dried kelp for local consumption and trade, but also create a shelter where wild salmon can hide from predators, as well as a surface on which the herring can lay eggs.
The Native Conservancy currently has 9 test sites along a 100+ mile (160 km) stretch in Prince William Sound where seaweed grows attached to long anchored lines, as well as a test farm where in the fall of 2021 the organization disseminated Alaria marginata , Laminaria saccharina and Nereocystis luetkeana .
The goal is to produce a trio of food sources, salable products, and stable jobs for Alaska's indigenous communities. Many, Lankard explains, are locals who choose to leave when they reach adulthood due to a lack of stable employment. This diaspora has accentuated the loss of connection with the ocean and with traditional practices.
"If we can build an industry based on one of our traditional food sources and ways of life, it adds those aspects of culture, spirit and that relationship to the ocean."
This relationship becomes especially important when climate change is part of the equation. For each of the indigenous groups Mongabay spoke to, climate change is top of mind, especially the question of how warming waters could harm the algae these groups seek to conserve.
Algae could help mitigate climate change. A 2016 paper estimated that macroalgae sequester 173 million tons of carbon each year as they float offshore and then sink into the ocean depths. Some studies also suggest that algae act as a buffer against ocean acidification , providing oases of safety when ocean pH drops. Yet at the same time, warmer, nutrient-poor waters resulting from climate change are causing stress to these species.
Ancestral knowledge has helped communities survive and thrive to this day,” Poe explains. "Sometimes members of our network communities use the phrase 'looking to the past to prepare for the future'".
In Hawaii, Limu Hui is breaking new ground as she experiments with methods of transplanting pond-grown limu species into the ocean. However, the group members stressed that the real goal of Limu Hui is to encourage relationships with the limu itself.
"The idea of restoring limu is not limited to its simple cultivation, but to a path aimed at community cohesion," says Wally Ito, co-founder of Limu Hui. “Take younger children out of the house and let them touch the limu, smell it and taste it. We have this limu that is tasty and good to eat, but we can't pass the taste on to the next generation, they have to appreciate it themselves."
Miwa Tamanaha, former co-director of KUA and founding member of Limu Hui, noted that public attention for seaweed is also growing outside indigenous communities. The recent explosion in seaweed cultivation is a prime example. As humanity experiences a collective loss of biodiversity, habitats and communities, Tamanaha explains how this interest "is perhaps an indicator of a rebalancing of the relationship between what each of our earths wisely disposes to feed us, and what we, in turn , we wisely have to offer them."
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Oceans