This was originally posted as a shorter version on Linkedin on October 15, 2023 a week after the October 7 Israel-Hamas war started. To cope with my grief with the ongoing war and genocide, I continue to find time to write my thoughts and reflections as an artist and as a peacebuilder.

I remember when I first received my mother’s cancer diagnosis, I went to the nearest spiritual retreat center and immediately walked the labyrinth. Even if I couldn’t see where I was going from all the tears flowing, I knew the pattern of getting lost in circles would eventually lead me to the the center. I continued to walk it on my darkest days and even on her last day on earth, knowing the time of her passing will soon come. In all the chaos I had to go through, having a center to walk toward and guide me as I leave the maze of uncertainty, was my form of refuge until the end.

I think about my grief as I attempt to write, unable to sleep trying to imagine the kind of grief peacebuilders and regenerative practitioners from Palestine and Israel I know are going through right now as the Israel-Hamas war rages on. Worlds apart from my story, I can only assume the critical life-saving actions on the ground, plus support they need for in the last week and the days, weeks, months, and even years to come from their posts and from the news. I am helping compile them and hope to share when they’re safe to be circulated.

Thinking of them brought me back to this labyrinth for inner peace we put together with Muslim, Christian, and indigenous peacebuilders in the Philippines years ago as part of a training on interfaith peacebuilding and leadership organized by the Peacemakers Circle Foundation in partnership with the United Religions Initiative. This was a closing ritual we did for a leadership retreat to address their trauma and re-commitment for their work after another war erupted when a legal agreement that would lead to a peace accord was held off. Villages were set on fire in retaliation, people were hostaged and killed, and years of hard work to sustain peace after decades of war, were all gone… all over again.

I am also reminded of how the children of Gaza who flew kites in 2011 for the Guinness world record, inspired me to engage children in different parts of the world to fly kites for them as many were dying in the same war from 2014. Even with the Dalai Lama’s support, I eventually shifted from kites to focus on permaculture gardens and ecosystem restoration in climate and conflict areas as a form of refuge to address food, livelihood, and well-being through my work with Green Releaf Initiative and Permaculture for Refugees.

I think of Israel and Gaza’s children now, and if Gaza’s survived 2014, they would already be teenagers if not young adults. I recall how most peace-builders I know in all countries with armed conflict, have shared the same narrative of being children once, dragged out of their beds as bombs start falling, and how they have chosen their path because they don’t want their children to experience the horror they went through… and now they have to, all over again.

While they are universal across cultures and beliefs, labyrinths were also created in cathedrals as an alternative to going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land during the Crusades. Going beyond this violent context in history and that labyrinths of tunnels under Gaza are being bombed right now, labyrinths can serve as a reminder that the path to peace is not easy as it can go around in a maze of repetitive cycles as you walk. It symbolises how an issue is systemic and complex.

Even if there is no simple solution, may it be an invitation for an inner pilgrimage to the heart, the centre of all things, a journey of restoring ourselves what is whole and holy. If you’ve ever walked one, you would know that it is when we reach the centre of a labyrinth, that the path outward becomes illuminated. I honor those who hold space for this journey to the center at the frontlines on both sides. May they and those they protect be safe as we re-story the journey from collective trauma to collective healing together.

I work with climate vulnerable indigenous and ethnic communities in the Philippines weaving permaculture with Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) through my organization, Green Releaf Initiative. As the COVID-19 pandemic limited our face-to-face training, we had to adapt by developing blended learning approaches such as digital and printed tools to share. Additionally, this invited us to translate permaculture materials into different major languages of the Philippines through Permawika, a collaboration with permaculture translators from different parts of the country. As we were developing the translations to honor the diversity of our local languages, however, I didn’t feel we were honoring our local knowledge in its entirety. Thus, I am inspired to share a proposal to add ‘Principle 0’ before permaculture’s 12 design principles:

Resourcing Back to Source

The applied permaculture principle of zoning has a Zone 0, which is a reference to one’s home or a place that is a starting point for designing a regenerative system of energy flows outwardly through a further five zones. From a systems thinking approach, this represents the source of one’s worldview, influencing all visible and invisible elements, that results in the application of a design plan.

I believe we can explore a way to reframe permaculture’s 12 principles with the foundational lens of Principle 0 that I know is implicitly acknowledged, but not formalized as one of the key design principles. Because it is unspoken and unwritten, it can be a blindspot for our work. Given that many indigenous peoples and formerly colonized nations communicate more with oral traditions, this can result in permaculture mainly referencing dominant worldviews. Those from oral traditions often do not practice referencing a worldview, system, or method with a name or framework. You will therefore see many books and articles that reference such worldviews, but these are generally authored by Westerners or those from the dominantly white culture. I say this with recognition and appreciation that naming, documenting, articulating and amplifying are the gift of such cultures, without which we also wouldn’t have the permaculture approach nor such an effective methodology for addressing our needs. However, for the thousands of traditions with non-English and oral cultures, ecological wisdom is often embodied, tacit in its ways in everyday living, and outside of a formal Permaculture Design Course (PDC).

Culture in Permaculture

“When you think of it, Indigenous peoples possess the biggest book. Because our book is the whole world. We read the forest, the wind, the clouds. It is the biggest book.”

- Datu Migketay Saway, Chief of Talaandig People, Bukidnon, Philippines

The 12 existing principles of permaculture begin with ‘Observe and Interact’. While they are not a linear set of principles that require this as the first step, my concern with this and the rest of the principles is that they already assume that we are in a place to take stock of what we want to do with the land and engage in observing, interacting, managing and giving feedback. Principle 0 invites us to step back and rethink our relationship to the ecosystem first. It reminds us that permaculture is not just ‘permanent agriculture’ which often is the first and popular reference to this practice. Permaculture is also ‘permanent culture’, a remembering of collective beliefs and narratives that shape how we perceive and relate to an ecosystem. Permaculture is remembering our sense of belonging by designing not just ‘with Nature’ but ‘as Nature’.

Acknowledging Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK)

Many cultures and traditions recognize that Nature is sacred. Nature is often associated with deities or family members and so for many traditions, Nature is a living being. In some cultures, this recognition even requires those who wish to visit, document, or eventually use its resources to undergo some form of ritual or way of honoring the spirits of the land and asking the ancestors for permission. For example, to visit with the Talaandig tribe of Bukidnon, Philippines, one must first seek permission from the spirit guides and other keepers of the land through ritual.

Currently, in our work in Kalinga and South Cotabato, these climate vulnerable indigenous communities have rituals for planting and harvesting and food sharing systems. They even have rituals before cutting trees to invite the spirits of the tree to move to another location out of respect. Thus, as much as we can, every workshop we hold invites the local people to share their knowledge relating to their ecosystem first, always referring to their IKSPs (Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Practices) as the original permaculture. The sharing of permaculture as we know it universally becomes a means of validation and reference.

There are many ways of acknowledging the identity of Nature. In my culture, we often announce our presence and ask permission from Nature spirits when we pass by a grove of trees or any uninhabited place and say, “Tabi (a)po” which means, “Excuse me, may I pass?” Buddhist monks in Thailand ordain trees to make sure they are not cut down. Some Australians and North Americans acknowledge the original custodians of the land they live in as part of their self-introductions. Today, there is a growing movement to recognize the Rights of Nature, giving it a voice and role in its protection and to all of us who depend on it for our survival.

This doesn’t have to be an indigenous approach. One must rethink what ‘indigenous’ really means, as it is in its essence a way of remembering our original relationship with our place. In contexts where land is not owned as ancestral domains or indigenous territories, Principle 0 can be applied as a simple consent or permission for use of the land, its wisdom, and its resources from the previous owner with clear agreements for managing it. As Nature’s elements are beyond political boundaries, developing ways of referencing the collective narrative of the ecosystem can be one way to truly recognize the identity of an ecosystem and design a permaculture plan along with it.

Engaging through Inclusive Ecosystem Leadership

Acknowledgement is not enough. Indigenous peoples protect 80% of the world’s biodiversity, but are only 5% of the world’s population. They are some of the most climate vulnerable people on Earth and this means that as we depend on them greatly, their vulnerability is our vulnerability. We must engage with them and local wisdom bearers who hold key tacit knowledge and practices that protect and restore their ecosystems, having lived in their places over time, and across generations. Inviting them to lead and design the solutions that impact our shared habitats will prove to be a more regenerative, and not just a sustainable, approach.

Inspired by the many gifts permaculture brings, many practitioners and teachers venture out into indigenous territories, the Global South, and into vulnerable, ‘developing’ or ‘underdeveloped’ nations, with intentions to share their practice. While this is a noble cause, it may create more harm than good. I reflect on this for myself as well, as I am not indigenous, but my organization is often invited to share our work in indigenous territories, whether to address climate vulnerability or to support the restoration of indigenous food systems. Over time, we realized the best way to approach this is to partner with local organizations and support them to enable the solutions with the local indigenous group. This saves time and resources for travel, and fosters long-term commitment.

Before planning to travel to work on a site, Principle 0 invites us to review our intentions and to honor that every place already comes with existing ecological knowledge or practices. We must explore instead how one can complement and enable the local approach as the main design frame for a permaculture intervention. If we must be there, we might consider ensuring that our presence will truly empower the locals to lead (and not the opposite!). Some effective inclusive collaborations can come in the form of exchanges in learnings, the showcasing of best practices from their part of the world, and ways to highlight the local partnered programs to the international movement. One movement that does this well is Re-Alliance, a network of regenerative practitioners in humanitarian aid and development.

Narrative Sovereignty

To see the big picture as designers enabling social and ecological solutions, permaculturists can step out of a circle, and be the holder of the circle as if holding a container — inviting holders of the local Traditional Ecological Knowledge to be in the center and in charge of the narrative, and be its storytellers as much as possible.

Considering that many places that still hold TEK and indigenous wisdom operate more with oral cultures rather than written ones, such knowledge is passed down by word of mouth and may have limited ways of documentation in a written format. Principle 0 requires our presence on the landscape to take time to listen, dialogue, and with consent, eventually collaborate for collective impact. It also encourages us to ensure proper consent for the documentation, use and reference of this knowledge.

A passion project I have been prototyping called Kalikhasan — Living Story Landscapes works with multi-media artists and culture bearers using photography and video among other media to practice an approach called narrative sovereignty.

Principle 0 offers ways for local partners to share their own experience from their own lens and voice, rather than tell it for them in its entirety. If storytelling is not easy, engaging more relatable communicators or sectors to facilitate may help locals. One example is working with an indigenous facilitator to deliver the session to indigenous communities. This can also include engaging one more local person closer to the community to ensure a familiarity of language, the history of the landscape and the local flora and fauna.

Engaging counter-mapping tools so locals can map their own territories and landscapes is one way we can engage them to define the scope and definition of their ecological interventions. One inspiring initiative that we are collaborating with is the work of the Indigenous Peoples’ and Community Conserved Areas and Territories (ICCA) in the Philippines that uses digital 3D mapping of ancestral domains. This includes the many dimensions of a place — from natural to political and from economic to spiritual — that need to be identified in terms of geographic locations.

Restoring and Re-storying

In working with ethnic and indigenous communities affected by disasters and displacement, great care is taken in terms of using Nature to heal, especially when there has been loss of life and damage from floods, landslides, and trees that have been uprooted or fallen, among others. It is important to design with dignity in ways locals can use permaculture to reclaim their narratives in relation to the land where a lot of their identity is rooted.

In Marawi, south of the Philippines, we worked with ethnic Meranao IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons) displaced by an ISIS affiliated siege of their city. We collabo-rated with local knowledge bearers and ethnobotanists to invite them to share their edible and medicinal plants and to design their garden in a resettlement. It is our hope that the plants they grow and consume can represent their stories of home, their place of belonging where they may never return. In the process, we hope that a sense of healing can take place given that gardens have therapeutic effects and support well-being.

In Kalinga, north of the Philippines, we worked with the local government in developing a permaculture demonstration site after Supertyphoon Haima in 2016. It was to showcase the benefits of the transition out of GMO corn which the locals have resorted to for economic recovery from a failed coffee program. In the aftermath of Supertyphoon Mangkhut (2018), we were able to raise a small amount to support the community with initial relief goods from organic rice to beans, to dried fish that were locally sourced.

Based on our usual justice-based approach as a non-profit, we decided to allocate more goods for families with more children to be equitable about how we offer aid. This meant, however, that not everyone would receive something. In a feedback circle from our partner indigenous leaders, they advised it would have been better if we could have trusted their indigenous way of sharing. Coming from their strong communal nature, this meant giving everyone equal amounts, so everyone felt they received something, no matter how little. Then in the process, they would naturally share more with those in need. This humbling experience really changed my whole approach to working with indigenous communities.

As a living design framework, permaculture’s principles and ethics should continue to evolve over time. It is my hope that Principle 0 can contribute to the growing movement to decolonize not just permaculture, but the regeneration movement around the world, weaving it back to its roots — the indigenous knowledge, systems and practices that it drew inspiration from. My proposal is only one of many movements that are amplifying the call, like Liberation Permaculture, Green Dreamer, Possible Futures, and this statement on White Washed Hope, the Global South Permaculture Network and many others.

I believe permaculture, a global movement of more than 20 million practitioners, can play a role in healing not only our ecological ecosystems but our socio-cultural ecosystems. Because of its growing popularity and predominantly white cultural following, it has the privilege of attention and support to inspire a much deeper remembering of our relationship with the Earth. I am sharing this story with the intention of inviting conversations about this topic through an emerging platform called Restore-Restory. We have already started with our first conversation as part of the Soil Circles of Commonland with the Presencing Institute. We will continue on with an action-research dialogue with New Stories to weave regenerative voices through regenerative dialogues where we feel there is a separation or divide. This can serve as an opportunity to unlearn and learn from each other in a time when growing systemic collapse is taking place and inviting us to work together, rather than apart, in deep adaptation.

This story was first published in Permaculture Magazine issue 109 last October 2021. Purchase a copy for the print version in full lay out and photos or view the digital plain text version here.

Part 1: Mapping and Matchmaking Efforts in the Informal Aid Ecosystem

“[The] point is not to welcome disasters. They do not create these gifts, but they are one avenue through which these gifts arrive. Disasters provide an extraordinary window into social desire and possibility, and what manifests there matters elsewhere, in ordinary times and in extraordinary times.” — Rebecca Solnit, A Paradise Built in Hell — The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster

Over the last few years my organization, Green Releaf Initaitive, has been prototyping our permaculture gardens on select sites affected by disasters and displacement. At the core of our theory of change is not just “design” but regenerative design that invites us to go beyond sustainability and ways that we can apply it in contexts of aid and development.

As the Philippines continues to face more and more climate emergencies. we have slowly accepted that we cannot be everywhere every time a disaster happens. Thus, In 2019, we prototyped our Re:Source Regeneration Labs which we launched as part of the Ulab2x with the aim of bringing regenerative initiatives for collaboration together to scale efforts up, wide, and deep.

We also combined the two loops model applied by our friends at NewStories to bring innovations together.

In the process, I was able to map out Filipino values and systems thinking in ecosystem leadership that I realized were similar and aligned to these frameworks inspired by the tree- or puno in Tagalog, the root word for Pamumuno, our term for Leadership.

Under this, we prototyped several labs that used regenerative design. We started a zero waste and circular economy ecosystem activation which helped contribute to the National Plan of Action for Marine Litter by UNDP and the Department of Environment and Natural Resources. Then we ran a regenerative aid lab to bring together informal aid responders for the Taal volcano eruption relief efforts.

Prior to it, we ran a longer “lab” under our Regerative Transitions Program for 3 years, a year after Supertyphoon Haima (local name Lawin) in 2016 in an indigenous community that was affected. We later realised our design was similar with the applied Theory U process of the ULab which we joined in 2019 and integrated the approach. Today we are scaling this in collaboration with Commonland for a landscape restoration lab in key landscapes in the country.

Weaving for Collective Impact

After Taal Volcano errupted in 2019, we were preparing to run our Permaculture Design Certificate Course for grassroots leaders in disasters and displacement to complete our prototypes. We knew we couldn’t be on the ground to help. Given we had limited time, we did a rapid prototyping lab that aimed to sense and cross pollinate across community kitchens, mental health support, livelihood, agriculture, and waste management actors with mappers and aid coordinators.

We came up with prototypes together after some sensemaking and presencing tools combined with regenerative design. Sadly, before we can continue and apply them after the workshop, evacuees were already safe to return home and the pandemic started forcing us to stay home and halt our projects temporarily. However, we learned a lot from this process.

In the light of super typhoon Rai/Odette which intensified from category 1 to 5 in 24 hours last December 2021, I look back at our insights as we prepare to launch our regenerative aid mapping and matchmaking initiatives. It is my hope that this could help us rethink and reframe how we respond to the growing number and intensity of climate related emergencies everywhere in the spirit of Bayanihan, the Filipino value of collaboration for nation building.

1.The informal aid sector contributes greatly to fill the gap where government and humanitarian interventions can’t meet right away or at all. However, their efforts are not often harnessed to scale for the better.

While we work with humanitarian organizations, we couldn’t identify entirely as one. There is apparently a term to call most relief efforts by communities as “informal aid.” We see ourselves as part of the hundreds, if not thousands of people-led initiatives, that bring together resources to deliver vital needs to those most affected on the ground.

Collectively, we fill the gap of aid when government and international humanitarian sectors can’t do so right away. We started by growing gardens in evacuation centres and in resettlements where displaced people are relocated. Then through our regenerative aid lab prototype, we realized we could instead be an enabler and facilitator for collaboration and possible financing for other NGOs, youth organisations, church groups, and co-workers who raise funds; community pantry organisers; the volunteer bikers who bring aid to hard to reach areas; the mothers who donate breast milk; the farmers who supply vegetable packs; and the mappers who plot where risks and hazards take place — among others, so more can be done together instead of separately.

2. Most communities are not prepared, including those who respond to them. In the end, we often end up scrambling for what to do and how to deliver it in a reactionary way. We end up searching the news or social media channels on how to help and often donate to those we only know. This often leads to the succeeding challenges in the next paragraphs.

3. Most aid go to those that receive most attention and access whether its through the news or social media and/or physical accesibility. A lot of communities don’t receive immediate help right away, if not at all. In a flood of news and posts, a triage of where the most urgent assistance and what kind of assistance can get lost in the information flow. Because of signal challenges people on ground zero won’t have the chance to communicate their needs.

4. Some aid that people receive are not what people actually need. Take the case of the funny stories that came during the Taal relief efforts where wedding gowns and Halloween costumes were donated.

Taal Evacuees Wearing Formal Attire, Wedding Gown, Uniforms, Duster-Wearing Men Brought Good Vibes

While this particular story can be humorous and can offer lightness to people’s challenges, it can be insensitive to those who just lost their clothes and other posessions. We heard stories where some camps received too many toothbrushes and didn’t know what to do with them. We once did a permaculture garden in a madrasa housing 500 IDPs of the Marawi siege where Muslim IDPs received Christian Bibles along with their relief goods. In the same center, someone donated a bulk of rotten dried fish that were inedible. This showed us that even if people can help, their actions may not be sensitive to people’s culture and needs to help restore their dignity.

5. Some aid go to waste and don’t reach those who need them. Perhaps its the lack of coordination if not corruption, or the levels of bureacracy that delay processing and distribution of goods. We know sad stories of donations uncovered in storage facilitites already expired.

7. Some systemic opportunities to scale or have better impact are lost since initiatives can be focused on their own relief and not in collaboration with others if they are not aware who is doing what. In our Taal regenerative aid lab prototype, we explored, “how can community kitchens work with waste groups to build compost for long term gardens in evacuation centers?” How can mental health groups can work with breast feeding mothers to create safe spaces for women, and how can we map these initaitives so people know where to help?” These are just among other interventions that could be enhanced if people know who else was helping in a specific geographic area or form of assistance.

Below is an example of the power of community-led collaborations in El Nido for supertyphoon Odette.

Odette Palawan relief work shows power of community

7. Informal aid efforts cannot be sustained due to donor fatigue and that the disaster eventually becomes yesterday’s news. Aid is necessary for immediate needs during the relief stages but it often loses steam as donors slowly get their funds maxed. Another sad reality is when the attention to the events has been taken over either by other news or another disaster has taken place. Worse, is when existing humanitarian efforts need to move to the next mission due to funding changes, leaving some plans for long term solutions behind.

8. Regenerative aid can be sustained for the long term with local leadership and solutions. If we came in as outsider, it would take us time to develop trust and engage through long social preparation. Without it, most projects fail. Emergency situations don’t have this luxury of time and the assurance that we can stay for long is dependent on funding. Thus, enabling and supporting local efforts would be key to make sure aid goes beyond the immediate assistance needed. They know the stakeholders and they will be there to sustain the work when donors and projects leave.

How Regenerative Aid Mapping and Matchmaking Can Help

The idea of a mapping and matchmaking of relief efforts started as an accidental tech pitch. In 2018, I joined a Tech Stars Weekend Start Up workshop for women with the hopes of learning how to become a social enterprise since running a non-profit on our first year since we registered has shown us we need to find ways to sustain our work without being dependent on grants.

However, this course required we had to come up with a pitch project. Racking my brain with what we really needed after working with IDPs affected by the Marawi siege back then, I came up with a pitch for a mock up system to build a relationship across donors, aid providers, and those affected.

Setting up a garden in camps and resettlements takes time before harvesting food, so we wanted to know which sustainable farms are nearby to source vegetable packs for immediate nutritious, plastic free food aid that also offered seeds and cuttings for the garden being grown. The idea of mapping farms and linking donors and camps as the Good Releaf app came in 6th place and seemed to have been received well. However, our team shelved this in the backburner thinking we wouldn’t have the time or resources to make it really work.

Below are the screenshots of the dummy site for my Good Releaf App pitch for Tech Stars Weekend Start Up

Launching for Supertyphoon Rai/Odette Mutual Aid

After Supertyphoon Rai or Odette ravaged through the Visayas and Mindanao in the Philippines leaving more than 600,000 displaced and almost 400 dead, we stepped back online for a few weeks to give space for the local efforts to raise their resources for immediate relief in the first weeks since supertyphoon Odette or Rai.

Behind the scenes, we have been working with volunteer mappers, database builders, UX designers, social media content generators, and humanitarian innovation specialists to discover ways we can design a platform that can meet design goals to address our learnings above.

We aim to set up a system that would be available for the long haul when donor fatigue sets in, or ways we can prepare ahead for future disasters with a system of information, collaboration, and regeneration can take place not only for informal aid actors but perhaps with institutions like the government or humanitarian organizations who can offer more long term support and resources.

Our mapping and database design team (others not in photo)

We aim to map, identify, and generate relationships across aid providers and solutions; donors and organisers of relief efforts; and organisations on the ground working directly with affected stakeholders. Given the massive scale of relief and recovery efforts needed after typhoon Odette, we are designing the plane as we fly and we are generating resources and support along the way to make our system work effectively.

Below is the emerging platform in the making with thanks to our volunteer mappers and designers Hugo Peek, Nicole Arguilo , Leendz Punzalan, Jahra Roxas, Jess Pacis, and Kat Candelaria for making this possible.

It is our goal to launch this platform before the month ends with your support and collaboration as we enter our testing phase. Please reach out to me via sarah.queblatin[at]greenreleaf[dot]org to support or collaborate.

This story was republished via Resilience.org and Permaculture for Refugees in early 2022. However, this work is evolving and our recent developments can be read through our soft launch at the end of 2022 here.

This post is part 1 of a series on Beyond DRR: Designing for Resilience and Regeneration as we map out our transition plan for communities affected by supertyphoon Rai/Odette.

“What if we changed the narrative of Disaster Risk Reduction or DRR, into that of Design for Resilience and Regeneration?”

This is what inspires our design as Green Releaf Initiative. It started in 2009 when I was helping pack relief goods full of plastics and processed food. Looking at the massive pile of carbon packed to respond to the floods and mass displacement caused by Typhoon Ketsana, I wondered, “how might we address problems without the same factors that caused the problem in the first place?” This inquiry led to circular design called “Green Releaf” which eventually paved the way to studying permaculture and ecovillage design education years later. In 2017, Green Releaf became a registered non — profit organization through seed funding from LUSH Re:Fund.

I live in what the Global Peace Index in 2019 would refer to as “the most vulnerable country in the world facing multiple climate hazards.” The Philippines faces an average of 20 typhoons a year, on top of historical conflict and other natural hazards like volcanic eruptions, and earthquakes. Living with a go-bag for emergencies since childhood, my reality motivates me to design deeper, in ways that go beyond aid.

DESIGN FOR RESILIENCE: SUPPORTING RECOVERING COMMUNITIES

In 3 years, Green Releaf prototyped 2 initiatives and emergent long term programs that used permaculture as a recovery and prevention approach for disasters and displacement.

To support communities recovering from radical changes, we prototyped two designs.

Image 1 — Garden at Madrasa with Marawi Siege IDPs demonstrating what they learned (photo by Sarah Queblatin)

Garden to Garden Releaf​ is a garden based response to address immediate food security (from garden), WASH, well-being, and ends by enabling a garden based livelihood (to garden). After an ISIS allied siege of Marawi City in 2017, we supported around 500 internally displaced peoples (IDPs) by setting up rainwater catchments, sourced vegetable food packs from nearby organic farms until the garden we co-created with a composting system with the IDPs was ready for harvest. We grew a school garden for displaced children living in a tent city across it in partnership with the Global Network on Religions for Children. We partnered with Catholic Relief Services and the World Food Program to apply permaculture in backyard gardens of 60+ displaced families in a resettlement at ground zero.

Image 2 — Women IDPs at the resettlement with their vermicomposting system (photo by Ash Abdullah) The

Witnessing Trees Project ​was inspired by old growth trees that withstood time to witness history take place in a certain location. I remember sitting under a tree at the COP21 in Paris bearing witness to the agreement to end the fossil fuel era and reflected on the role of trees in climate vulnerable countries like mine. Apart from its capacity to sink carbon and act as windbreaks, I recalled how trees became lifelines for those who survived floods and powerful typhoon winds in communities I worked with in the past either by climbing them or tying themselves on them.

Image 3 — Damaged GM corn fields after Typhoon Mangkhut in Kalinga (photo by Gumay Tenda)

Image 4 — Permaculture demonstration site in the making with indigenous farmers of Kalinga (photo by Gumay Tenda)

The ecosystem based DRR project was prototyped in an indigenous community in Kalinga province, a year after it was affected by Typhoon Haima in 2016 through the invitation of the Department of Education. We used permaculture to demonstrate the potential for regenerative livelihood through ecosystem restoration as the village of Balawag suffered crop loss not just through typhoons but from degrading soil from land conversion to GM corn with glyphosate use. Through a 1.5 ha demonstration site in partnership with the local government and agencies, we trained 16 grassroots indigenous leaders, 60+ farmers, 200+ students, and individuals in practical permaculture. An integration of permaculture in the agricultural curriculum of the school is underway as the project resumes after the Covid19 lockdowns for its transition into a 5 year regenerative development program.

Image 5 — Participatory 3D hazard mapping (photo by Gumay Tenda)

DESIGN FOR REGENERATION: ENABLING SYSTEMIC AND COLLECTIVE IMPACT

In our 3rd year, we prepared to weave existing regenerative practices and designed ​Re:Source Regeneration Labs a​ s a regenerative design lab and learning journey so we can catalyze and scale their solutions for collective whole systems impact. The process combines permaculture and ecovillage design principles with Theory U along with Filipino ways of problem solving.

In early 2020, we designed a regenerative aid lab inviting informal aid actors that were responding to the displacement brought about by the Taal Volcano eruption. We gathered mappers, breastfeeding groups, mental health advocates, community kitchens, and farmers together to cross-pollinate and design systemic solutions together through a regenerative design sprint.

Apart from the regenerative aid lab, we have also activated ecosystems for regeneration particularly for those doing zero waste and circular economies that helped contribute to the National Plan of Action for Marine Litter. We also run a slower lab for the design of a regenerative economy by enabling organic farming and ecotourism in Sagada, Mountain Province.

Image 6 — Ecosystem mapping of organic farming and ecotourism initiatives in Sagada Mountain Province (photo by Sarah Queblatin)

SCALING UP, WIDE, and DEEP

The next stages of the abovementioned initiatives are inviting us to scale and replicate what we started with new partners and communities while completing what we started as covid-19 and new disasters have halted our projects earlier this year.

To enhance our permaculture work in indigenous communities through a landscape approach to food sovereignty, ​Living Story Landscapes​ was born using culture and creativity to document traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) to honor indigenous permaculture practices already existing in a place. We will be embarking on this with 2 new indigenous communities replicating what we started in Kalinga.

Image 7 — Promoting the value of agroforestry system for mature coffee trees in Kalinga in partnership with Department of Trade and Industry (photo by Gumay Tenda)

Our ​Regenerative Transitions program​ is born out of a 5 year regenerative development plan co-designed with the indigenous village in Balawag, Tabuk City, Kalinga and the local government as a continuation of the Witnessing Trees project. Currently we are preparing to integrate this approach in a regenerative food ecosystems lab in 2021 to bring together partner cities and municipalities for a landscape approach to food to prevent further natural disasters while addressing hunger in 7.6 million families due to the pandemic.

Image 8 — Regenerative transition program dialogue and planning between government and indigenous leaders (photo by Gumay Tenda)

Image 9 — Permaculture translation to local languages (photo by Sarah Queblatin)

Our ​Grassroots Permaculture Leadership​ and ​Permaculture Design Certification program​ is meant for early adopters in community partners who can be multipliers of the permaculture solutions they learn in the demonstration sites we create with them.

Image 10 — Permaculture Design Certificate Course for grassroots leaders in climate and conflict vulnerable areas with Rosemary Morrow (photo by Rona Reina)

Video — A glimpse of our permaculture training with grassroots leaders affected by disasters and displacement.

In the wake of Super Typhoons Goni and Vamco that just recently caused massive loss and damage in November 2020, we are now preparing to activate informal aid activities together once again, learning from our first prototype to scale it. Through Garden Releaf, we are also preparing to support sustainable agriculture associations in Tiwi, Albay to grow food for immediate food security and typhoon proofing and repairing damaged farm structures through the leadership of one of our PDC students.

A peer to peer coaching program and the development of alternative learning materials are emerging out of the covid-19 travel limitations. Our goal is to have more IDPs or grassroots community members impacted by radical changes to learn and practice permaculture so they can be first responders for regenerative solutions in communities for future disasters and displacement to come. To support our next steps, visit ​www.greenreleaf.org/support.

*Originally posted on Permaculture Magazine

This is what inspires our design as Green Releaf Initiative. It started in 2009 when I was helping pack relief goods full of plastics and processed food. Looking at the massive pile of carbon packed to respond to the floods and mass displacement caused by Typhoon Ketsana, I wondered, “how might we address problems without the same factors that caused the problem in the first place?”

This inquiry led to circular design called ‘Green Releaf’ which eventually paved the way to studying permaculture and ecovillage design education years later. In 2017, Green Releaf became a registered non-profit organization through seed funding from LUSH Re:Fund.

I live in what the Global Peace Index in 2019 would refer to as “the most vulnerable country in the world facing multiple climate hazards”. The Philippines faces an average of 20 typhoons a year, on top of historical conflict and other natural hazards like volcanic eruptions and earthquakes. Living with a ‘go bag’ for emergencies since childhood, my reality motivates me to design deeper, in ways that go beyond aid.

Design for resilience: supporting recovering communities

In three years, Green Releaf prototyped two initiatives and emergent long-term programs that used permaculture as a recovery and prevention approach for disasters and displacement.

To support communities recovering from radical changes, we prototyped two designs.

Garden at Madrasa with Marawi Siege IDPs demonstrating what they learned ©Sarah Queblatin

Garden to Garden Releaf is a land-based response to address immediate food security. After an ISIS allied siege of Marawi City in 2017, we supported around 500 internally displaced peoples (IDPs) by setting up rainwater catchments, sourced vegetable food packs from nearby organic farms until the garden we co-created with a composting system with the IDPs was ready for harvest. We grew a school garden for displaced children living in a tent city across it in partnership with the Global Network on Religions for Children. We partnered with Catholic Relief Services and the World Food Program to apply permaculture in backyard gardens of 60+ displaced families in a resettlement at ground zero.

Women IDPs at the resettlement with their vermicomposting system ©Ash Abdullah

The Witnessing Trees Project was inspired by old growth trees that withstood time to witness history take place in a certain location. I remember sitting under a tree at the COP21 in Paris bearing witness to the agreement to end the fossil fuel era and reflected on the role of trees in climate vulnerable countries like mine. Apart from its capacity to sink carbon and act as windbreaks, I recalled how trees became lifelines for those who survived floods and powerful typhoon winds in communities I worked with in the past either by climbing them or tying themselves on them.

Permaculture demonstration site in the making with indigenous farmers of Kalinga ©Gumay Tenda

The ecosystem based DRR project was prototyped in an indigenous community in Kalinga province, a year after it was affected by Typhoon Haima in 2016, through the invitation of the Department of Education. We used permaculture to demonstrate the potential for regenerative livelihood through ecosystem restoration as the village of Balawag suffered crop loss not just through typhoons but from degrading soil from land conversion to GM corn with glyphosate use.

Through a 1.5 ha demonstration site in partnership with the local government and agencies, we trained 16 grassroots indigenous leaders, 60+ farmers, 200+ students, and individuals in practical permaculture. An integration of permaculture in the agricultural curriculum of the school is underway as the project resumes after the Covid-19 lockdowns for its transition into a five-year regenerative development program.

Design for regeneration: enabling systemic and collective impact

In our third year, we prepared to weave existing regenerative practices and designed Re:Source Regeneration Labs as a regenerative design lab and learning journey so we can catalyze and scale their solutions for collective whole systems impact. The process combines permaculture and ecovillage design principles with Theory U along with Filipino ways of problem solving.

In early 2020, we designed a regenerative aid lab inviting informal aid actors that were responding to the displacement brought about by the Taal Volcano eruption. We gathered mappers, breastfeeding groups, mental health advocates, community kitchens, and farmers together to cross-pollinate and design systemic solutions together through a regenerative design sprint.

Apart from the regenerative aid lab, we have also activated ecosystems for regeneration particularly for those doing zero waste and circular economies that helped contribute to the National Plan of Action for Marine Litter. We also run a slower lab for the design of a regenerative economy by enabling organic farming and ecotourism in Sagada, Mountain Province.

Ecosystem mapping of organic farming and ecotourism initiatives in Sagada Mountain Province ©Sarah Queblatin

Scaling up, wide and deep

The next stages of the above-mentioned initiatives are inviting us to scale and replicate what we started with new partners and communities while completing what we started as Covid-19 and new disasters have halted our projects earlier this year.

To enhance our permaculture work in indigenous communities through a landscape approach to food sovereignty, Living Story Landscapes was born using culture and creativity to document traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) to honor indigenous permaculture practices already existing in a place. We will be embarking on this with two new indigenous tribes replicating what we started in Kalinga.

Our Regenerative Transitions program is born out of a five year regenerative development plan co-designed with the indigenous village in Balawag, Tabuk City, Kalinga and the local government as a continuation of the Witnessing Trees project. Currently we are preparing to integrate this approach in a regenerative food ecosystems lab in 2021 to bring together partner cities and municipalities for a landscape approach to food to prevent further natural disasters while addressing hunger in 7.6 million families due to the pandemic.

Regenerative transition program dialogue and planning between government and indigenous leaders ©Gumay Tenda

Our Grassroots Permaculture Leadership and Permaculture Design

Certification program is meant for early adopters in community partners who can be multipliers of the permaculture solutions they learn in the demonstration sites we create with them.

In the wake of Super Typhoons Goni and Vamco that just recently caused massive loss and damage in November 2020, we are now preparing to activate informal aid activities together once again, learning from our first prototype to scale it. Through Garden Releaf, we are also preparing to support sustainable agriculture associations in Tiwi, Albay to grow food for immediate food security and typhoon proofing and repairing damaged farm structures through the leadership of one of our PDC students.

A peer to peer coaching program and the development of alternative learning materials are emerging out of the covid-19 travel limitations. Our goal is to have more IDPs or grassroots community members impacted by radical changes to learn and practice permaculture so they can be first responders for regenerative solutions in communities for future disasters and displacement to come.

For more information about Green Releaf, visit www.greenreleaf.org

Green Releaf

is a finalist in the Permaculture Magazine Prize: www.permaculture.co.uk/news/finalists-permaculture-magazine-prize

Useful links

Pastoralists to Permaculture

Watch: Permaculture tools to transform soil

Originally published at https://www.permaculture.co.uk on June 11, 2021.

The first time I saw the image above was in my grade school text book. I feel I lost its meaning over time because I see it often through the years, being a standard image for cooperation in my country, the Philippines. Recently, I was showing this image to European colleagues as I prepare a social innovation lab with them for an upcoming ecosystem based DRR project. I then realized this meant something to me all over again, most especially because this meaning was sparked by the outpouring of community spirit for the recent Taal volcano eruption relief efforts, and other recent natural disasters, from back to back typhoons, and a series of earthquakes.

This image of people carrying a house is a popular icon for “Bayanihan” where in traditional communities, homes are transported collectively with fair exchange of the same aid when needed, or often without expectation in return. The word Bayanihan comes from the word “bayan”, which means nation, town or community. Bayanihan means the process of “being in and making a bayan.” I believe at the heart of this communal spirit is the sense of Kapwa, the concept of the shared self in Filipino psychology.

“Unlike the English word ‘Other’, Kapwa is not used in opposition to the self and does not recognize the self as a separate identity. Rather, Kapwa is the unity of self and others, and hence implies a shared identity or inner self. From this arises the sense of fellow being that underlies Filipino social interaction.” — Leny Strobel

It made me realize how much it represents Filipino resilience as I work in several displacement contexts from floods, typhoons, and conflict over the years through small scale regenerative solutions. I don’t think anyone has literally moved houses this way during emergencies, since most of them are gone overnight from harsh winds or floods, or that forced displacement from violence have led people to leave them behind only to never return to them intact or even return at all. Losing one’s home disconnects people from a sense of belonging and identity. Bayanihan restores that on some level, people helping people in times of need that represents an act of collective compassion.It is how people have transported and set up a “sense of home” wherever they could — in basketball courts, public schools, and other spaces that often become temporary shelters for those displaced.

It is special to recall that I’ve come across the different names we call Bayanihan in various parts of the country through various projects with my organization, Green Releaf. In Leyte where I volunteered after Typhoon Haiyan, it is called “Pintakasi” in Waray. In Kalinga, where I’m engaging with indigenous leadership on an ecovillage development project after Typhoons Lawin and Mangkhut, they call it “Pango” or “Kil-loong” in Kalinga. In Sagada where I’ve been co-hosting a learning journey and u Lab on an emerging food ecosystem based DRR initiative, it is called “Ob-obbo” in Kankaney. In Marawi, where I worked after the ISIS triggered Marawi siege, it’s called “Kapamagogopa” in Meranaw.

It is beautiful to see the many forms of Bayanihan happening after the recent Taal volcano eruption — from emergency community kitchens, to zero waste refill drives for water, to communal laundry services, to mental health and psychological first aid, to lactating mothers sharing breastmilk, to brave animal rescue efforts, to far off towns struggling with low vegetable prices yet still sending truckloads of harvest as food aid, among others.

The Philippines is one of the most ecologically vulnerable places in the world, belonging to the Pacific ring of fire facing the realities of harsh weather, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions which grow more intense with climate emergency and political challenges over the years. As we face more and more vulnerability in the country, the need to strengthen the social fabric for cooperation will be core to any disaster risk reduction and management effort.

My initiative, Green Releaf, is starting to map various forms of regenerative aid inspired by Bayanihan, and we would love to learn more what others are doing. Check out what we’ve discovered so far here and help us add more to this list here: http://bit.ly/RegenAidTaal.

Bayanihan: The Gift of Community in Disaster Recovery in the Philippines was originally published in Soil Soul Story on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I moved to this beautiful new space full of light and wind last July. Until recently, I haven’t used this corner beside my bed. At first it was because there was a leak that it would form puddles when it rains. The repair from the roofing outside took months and I have lost all my patience and started neglecting this space. I stopped valuing it and all my anticipation of starting fresh in this home lost its energy as time went by.

Then finally it happened, it finally got fixed a few weeks ago. My inner Marie Kondo was flowing with joy unpacking boxes and all. I’ve decided to make this my altar so I can meditate right away after waking up facing this sacred corner and the wide open view of the mountains and the sunset beside it.

Inspired, I placed my altar items on its glass shelves. Then thinking like a home improvement professional, I trimmed a pre cut wiring that was dangling off it from an older lighting fixture installed from within. To my shock, the wiring burst and blew the power out, leaving some burnt marks on the freshly painted white panels.

Instead of being grateful to be alive, I was pissed at the electrician who never showed up for days. Taking out the items and placing them back to their storage boxes, I started to grow distaste for this corner once again. Much more than before because I had a short-lived holy moment of finally feeling settled.

Then it hit me. All I have always been reminding others and myself since I met the Dalai Laima is to bring the sacred in every day — to see the Dalai Lama in myself and everyone. In this case, every thing. So mindfully, I let go of the need to scold whoever answers the building maintenance line on the phone. I let go of the perfection of what sacred really means. Even more, when the electrician finally showed up and said, “Oh, we only need to place electric tape on it.” I thought of smacking him after realising the endless frustration anticipating the breaking down of this wall and his failure to show up increasing my anxiety of the fire hazard beside me as I slept for several nights. In the end, the solution was simple. Something I could have just done myself.

Allowing my inner Khaleesi, dragons and all, to calm down, I then surrendered to this corner’s gift. It was, as it turned out, to be blessed with both water and fire. Two sacred elements that made all life possible on this planet, that made me who I am. Why yes, even this corner, an accidental grotto baptised with rain puddles and electric sparks.

Recently, there’s massive flooding north of my country, in Venice, and a cyclone in South Asia, while bush fires are ravaging in Australia happening at the same time. We know this is now the new normal of too much water and too much fire as the climate crisis intensifies. Restoring the sacred in the chaos includes accepting it, grieving it, and taking ownership of it. Then perhaps, the invitation of this life threatening experience is to fix the brokenness in our home like tape — but with a kind of mending with gold paint used in Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repair that increases the value of what used to be broken things.

Today, 5 years ago, I met the Dalai Lama and I still have yet to write all the serendipities and synchronicities that led me to it. However today, I think I wrote about it — about making anything sacred out of the ordinary. After all, this was the message of my mind bending experience that I still can’t, or maybe even selfishly, won’t verbalise because I will lose its magic. Nonetheless, I have this extraordinary corner of my room to remind me of this special day today.

#soilsoulstory

Accidental Blessings with Water and Fire was originally published in Inner Mandala on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

— John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace.

This article has been re-written with edits on July 4, 2021

It has been 2 years ago today since I helped lead another co-creative ritual space making for the peace process of the Philippine Government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front. In 2011, we helped create a children led mandala ritual space for the resumption of their peace talks. Click here for more photos.

Fast forward to 3 years later, the long awaited peace pact — Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro will be signed.

Weeks before this took place, I heard my soul speak aloud that I was startled. She said, “When the peace talks finally get signed, I want to be there.” I had no idea about what the developments were about the peace process as I had already started focusing on ecovillage led humanitarain assistance. I had goosebumps all over as soon as I read a peace activist announce about this eventful ceremony on Facebook that evening. How I could end up in Manila from my little tent at a Typhoon Haiyan post disaster site, I wouldn’t really know but how this unfolded is a living story of trust and divine inspiration for artists.

I’ve always wanted to do street art out of the beautiful designs of Philippine weaves and patterns where the story of the people are embedded in symbols and colors and so when I heard that the peace agreement would be signed, this was the first thing to do in my mind.

For this gathering at Mendiola, we did some creative placemaking using tribal (Islamized and non-Islamized) tribal weaves of Mindanao ethnic groups to co-create a sacred space for the SAPA, a ritual of forgiveness, the letting go of past hurts, and a pact of promise led by Datu Migketay Saway Victorino of the Talaandig tribe together with Babaylans and elders of the Teduray, Talaandig, Subanen, Higaonon, Matigsalug, Arumanen and Manobo and other tribes.

Before the creation of the circle, the ground was blessed by the noon-time prayer of the Muslims present. Right before that we had a bomb scare because of some exchange between the National Democratic Front and the activists and movements present.

As I started drawing the circle to shape a ritual space of Mindanao weaves using coloured chalk in the middle of the busy, noisy, and crowded Mendiola Peace Arch on the day of the landmark signing of the peace agreement between the Philippine Government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, I started doubting myself, “What was I thinking?” Oftentimes, things like this come as a vision and an idea and most of the time, it doesn’t make sense when I’m faced with the real scope and logistics of the situation. All I felt was I had to make a circle and allow the creative spirit to flow through every co-creator joining in. But to do that in a heavily crowded public space with statements blasting on the speakers on stage, people shouting with their banners, and even a bomb scare earlier in the day made me doubt that something else was possible. The street was a blank and messy canvas to begin with.

As soon as I drew the circle in the middle and the children started colouring the spaces with the beautiful patterns of Mindanao’s ethnic tribes, bit by bit the space expanded. Sometimes people stepped over the artwork only to realize that what they’ve done damaged something beautiful. Some did not care and simply brushed us off. While some jumped in and to help. It didn’t take long until, we were able to claim a space for peace in the center of a crowd of probably almost 1,000 people. It allowed more and more people to rest and sit down, watching, witnessing, creating a wider ring around the space.

After dedicated hours of drawing together, we finally saw the big picture of our weaves intertwined as one big ritual space for the evening’s intertribal peace pact called “Sapa” which was meant to support the peace agreement signing taking place at the Presidential Palace that afternoon. As we completed the giant circle in the middle of the sea of people and banners, we saw that we created order out of chaos. Seeing the beauty of what we created also showed us that naturally the waste thrown about everywhere did not have space there and thus inspired us to collect them making the space truly sacred.

In the evening, the space held the “Sapa,” an intertribal ritual of healing the past hurts paving the way for a peaceful future for the signed peace agreement that afternoon. In that sacred circle, Tribal elders led by Datu Vic Saway of the Talaandig Tribe asked the tribal elders and the peace panelists from both the government and the MILF side to place their hands on the signed agreement documents and publicly declare their commitment to peace. It is often said that rituals also invite our ancestors to be present to witness the changing of fates and to make peace together with the ancestors of those present helping find closure to the old story. To close the circle, I asked the young people who helped design the ritual space to engage the leaders in a ceremony of support to claim their role as heirs to the peace agreement recently forged. Click here to view more photos.

This work with young people continued on with a global campaign I started called Kites for Peace, which invited children from around the world to fly kites for children in armed conflict who could not do so, inspired by the kites flown by children of Gaza to break the Guiness World Record. Read more about it along with His Holiness the Dalai Lama of Tibet’s support here.

In 2015, clashes between special forces of the Philippine national police and the MILF that led to deaths leaving the country divided just fresh from the signing of the peace accord. To help heal the grief, anger, and doubt, I helped in an interfaith ceremony to remember the dead 40 days since the clash. We worked with the soil of the Talaandig people of Bukidnon, Mindanao and engaged different participants to paint a mural and shape pots of hope out of clay to be given to the families of those who were lost in the tragedy. Click here for more photos.

What did I learn from all this? I learned that we need to claim space to make our dream of peace possible. I learned that using a universal language that transcends boundaries (like art), we can create a shared space where we can temporarily put our guards and our biases down despite our differences and hurts. I learned that first, people must feel safe to enter the new space and so the circle temporarily helps shape a boundary open only to those willing to show up and participate. I learned that even in the chaos and the unknown of what can be birthed, we can truly create something beautiful that reminds us of our wholeness, reclaiming what was once broken or lost. I learned that when we give more energy that holds space to imagine that something else is possible, we can help write our new narrative, our new story of peace.

I’m a student and as it’s turning out, a keeper of this circle- creating sacred spaces and ceremony, to facilitate meaning making in an important transition experience. It is beyond artmaking, it is rather an experience of the sacred, of something greater than ourselves- literally as you expand that space beyond your self. As Joseph Campbell said, “if you take one step closer to God, the gods move 10 steps closer toward you.

The dream of continuing this creative placemaking process continues on with a creative project for cultural memory and imagination in communities affected by disasters and displacement via Kalikhasan: Living Story Landcapes Project. This includes working with permaculture gardens for those displaced after ISIS linked militants attacked Marawi City, which is part of the autonomous government formed by the peace agreement.

Creative Placemaking as Peacemaking was originally published in Soil Soul Story on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.