Red cloth and paint: Papuan indigenous people’s efforts to protect the world’s lungs

March 6, 2026 in Domberai, Environment Reading Time: 4 mins read

0

Author: Gamaliel Kaliele – Editor: Angela Flassy

Indigenous people mark trees in the forest as boundaries of their customary areas – Jubi/Gamaliel

Teminabuan, Jubi – Indigenous elders, women, and youth, along with Jubi journalists, walked through the Kordaimahkrah, Sun, Mondarmbe, and Nimadaduk forests in Konda District, South Sorong Regency, Southwest Papua. They carried red cloth and paint to mark the forest’s trees as customary territory boundaries, based on natural landmarks such as large trees, rivers, and mountains that have long served as boundaries for customary rights between clans, Wednesday (March 4, 2026).

The forest they have long protected is under threat from the expansion of the palm oil company PT Anugerah Sakti Internusa (ASI), which holds a concession of approximately 37,000 hectares in the Konda and Teminabuan Districts. Of these, 14,000 hectares are located on the customary lands of these indigenous people.

Yance Mondar, a community leader from Nakna Village, stated that through this action, the indigenous people of Konda District are sending a strong message to companies and the government that customary forests are not investment-free areas and that these lands have a history, ownership, and life that cannot be replaced with money or promises of development.

“We reject oil palm, not because we don’t want development, but because oil palm will destroy the forests that have long been part of our lives and beliefs,” he said.

“If the forest disappears, our livelihoods will also disappear, and our ancestral heritage will also disappear,” he said.

The South Sorong Regency Government revoked the plantation business permit of PT Anugerah Sakti Internusa (ASI) on May 20, 2021, through South Sorong Regent Decree No. 025/104/BSS/V/2021. The reason was that when PT ASI obtained the permit, it failed to comply with the obligations stipulated in the IUP, such as the indigenous community’s failure to consent to the company’s acquisition of customary land and forest. PT ASI’s lawsuit was filed with the State Administrative Court (PTUN) and the Supreme Court, and the indigenous community won.

Despite the legal standing, PT ASI has recently continued its efforts to obtain the indigenous community’s permit by conducting outreach campaigns, as happened three weeks ago. While state apparatus is being used to threaten indigenous communities, the communities continue to strive to protect tropical forests, which are the lungs of the entire world.

Jubi journalists embarked on a long journey on foot through the wilderness from the nearest village early in the morning, without vehicles and without communication.

The only guides were the traditional elders who had lived alongside the forest since childhood.

The deeper they went into the jungle, the denser and quieter the atmosphere became. Large trees towered tall, some exceeding one meter in diameter and estimated to have been living for hundreds of years. The thick canopy allowed only a thin layer of sunlight to penetrate the forest floor. Giant tree roots spread through the damp soil, while the sounds of birds and wildlife could occasionally be heard in the distance.

“For us, the indigenous people of Konda District, this forest is more than just a natural expanse; every large tree, small river, and mountain ridge marks the boundaries of our customary territory,” said Mondar.

These boundaries are not written on national maps, but live in the collective memory of the indigenous people.

During the journey, dozens of indigenous people gathered to perform a ritual and then planted traditional stakes to mark the boundaries of their customary rights.

Yance Mondar said the forest patrols and the installation of customary stakes were carried out to protect the area from the threat of oil palm plantation expansion.

“We surveyed and created these customary markers because a company and several other parties are planning to let in oil palm plantations. So we are also afraid and must protect our customary land,” he said.

He said the community is worried that if the forest area is cleared for oil palm plantations, they will lose their living space.

“If oil palm plantations come in, they will destroy our small forest. Where will we live? Where will we hunt? Where will we farm? So, we can’t give up these rights if this area is cultivated for oil palm, then where will our lives be?” said Yance Mondar.

The forest patrol attended by Jubi journalists involved various clans, including Mondar, Kareth, Sarus, Sianggo, Karet, and Kemeray. They included traditional elders, women, and even youth.

Red cloth and red paint marked large trees as symbols of customary prohibitions.

Throughout their reporting journey, Jubi journalists also found signs of wildlife: wild boar tracks were visible in the damp soil, while the sounds of cassowaries and birds of paradise could be heard from within the forest.

“This forest is also a habitat for various animals such as cuscuses, tree kangaroos, deer, and various species of native birds,” said Grice Mondar, standing, pointing to the dense expanse of large trees surrounding him.

He explained that the forest is a primary food source for indigenous communities who still depend on nature.

“In this forest, wild boars, cassowaries, laulau, kangaroos, cuscuses, maleo, deer, and many other wild animals live here. So, our extended family rejects the oil palm plantation,” he said.

Besides being a hunting ground, the forest also serves as a living space for indigenous women. They collect various medicinal plants and craft materials from the forest for their families’ needs.

Mama Fransina Sianggo explained that various household needs come from nature. “This forest barrel is used for medicinal purposes when a family member is sick. We also collect mat leaves and grass to make noken (traditional bamboo baskets) and mats for the family’s needs,” she said.

Yulian Kareth, an Afsya traditional leader who participated in the forest patrol, emphasized that the indigenous people will not hand over their territory to any company, because this forest is not empty land; it has its owners.

“So, we will always reject oil palm,” he asserted.

The forest is their home, their source of life, and a spiritual space that connects them to their ancestors. Therefore, planting customary stakes in the forest is not only a symbol of territorial boundaries, but also a form of resistance by indigenous peoples to maintain their identity, culture, and the future of their generations as the lungs of the world. (*)

West Papua advocates call for solidarity as displacement and deforestation escalate

A two -day forum in Auckland will discuss the issues facing West Papuans who face mass displacement, environmental destruction, and militarisation. The forum aims to amplify their voices and build Pacific solidarity.

Khalia Strong PUBLISHED 06 March 2026, 3:41pm

West Papua advocates Catherine Delahunty and Dorthea Wabiser.

Photo/Composite

Indigenous communities in West Papua are losing land, food systems, and cultural heritage as armed conflict forces tens of thousands from their homes.

The Melanesian nation has faced decades of militarisation and exploitation since being annexed by Indonesia in the 1960s, following the controversial transfer of the region by the United Nations.

Dorothea Wabiser, a West Papuan advocate, calls the situation “slow-motion genocide.” Speaking on Pacific Mornings, she says families in the Porgera highlands are desperately seeking safety.

“There are currently more than 100,000 IDPs [internally displaced persons] in Papua leaving their homes, because of the conflict between the military, who want to own the gold deposits within the highlands,” Wabiser says.

Another crisis is the government’s National Strategic Project, repurposing two million hectares of forest for sugarcane plantations and rice fields. Wabiser says this is impacting their surroundings and forcibly changing their eating habits.

“Because they cut down all of our indigenous food, the sago tree…diet patterns within the communities are changing. Our body characteristics are changing because we now depend on other food instead of our own indigenous food.”

Wabiser says international attention is limited by media restrictions and political interests, with journalists often blocked from reporting. She stresses the role of solidarity: “The government will listen to you if a lot of people talk about it… it will become a pressure to our government to say something about it.”

Catherine Delahunty, a West Papua advocate and former Green Party MP, is passionate about the nation’s plight.

“Ever since the 1960s…human rights abuses, military occupation, destruction of the environment, abuse of the people based on very racist ideology…this is what we call a structural genocide,” she tells Pacific Mornings.

Delahunty is calling for greater awareness and support, highlighting that Pacific and Māori communities respond with a shared lens of colonisation.

“Tangata whenua and tangata Pasifika people, immediately they’re like, ‘Right, what can we do to help?’ Some other people, politicians, are pretty indifferent. But we still need to keep the people who don’t even know where West Papua is on the map aware.”

An opportunity to connect

The two-day West Papua Solidarity Forum in Auckland this weekend offers the public a chance to learn and act. The forum begins today with panels on militarisation, environmental destruction, community organising, and human rights abuses.

It continues on Saturday, March 8, at The Taro Patch in Papatoetoe from 9-4pm, with workshops, cultural discussions, and relationship-building.

The weekend also includes a mini-film screening on Friday evening, introduced by Indonesian journalist Victor Mambor.

The film documents local resistance to the Strategic National Project. “People there, they resist, and they try to fight the project and the people who operate the project. And it’s still going on now. We’re trying to capture the situation there. This is the biggest deforestation in the world,” Mambor says.

Watch Dorthea Wabiser and Catherine Delahunty’s full interview below.

Wabiser says sharing these stories is vital for future generations.

“It is not an empty land. These forests have our history, sacred places and culture. There is music, games, and sports within these forests, and we want to keep it. We want to maintain it. We have a responsibility for my generation and future generations,” she says.

Delahunty adds that solidarity requires both awareness and action. “Victor and Dorothea go out every day trying to defend a forest which protects our climate, and we need to recognise that what they do for their own country, they also do for us. We are not separate…We need to get together with our voices to support free West Papua.”