By Janet Hujon
‘They tend to the forest; the forest tends them back’. An image of trust – comforting and reassuring – describes an ecotourism project run by an indigenous community in the Sierra Norte, Mexico. James Gingell defines a way of life and its outcome – of care given and returned. The verb ‘tend’, deliberately chosen or not, is brimful of tenderness.
(https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2025/apr/28/viva-zapotec-a-thriving-ecotourism-project-in-mexicos-oaxaca-state)
The ancient indigenous reverence for the natural world in all its simplicity and effectiveness prevails in the Sierra Norte, stirring within me a deep pool of ancestral memories. But the comfort from these uplifting words is short-lived because in Meghalaya respectful reciprocity is dying. The forests give, and we take…and that too by the lorry load. We strip the land of its goodness ripping apart the unwritten pact between people and their land. Why do we have to put a price on Nature to know her worth? Caring for the forest has largely been selfless community work and this is what the people of Nongkhyllem have been doing until the Tourism Department decided to gatecrash. “…The sanctuary has been carefully preserved by locals for generations and [they] warned that introducing tourism infrastructure would lead to pollution and long-term environmental damage”… (ST April 25, 2025)
The proposal for an ecotourism scheme (a word deliberately chosen in preference to the more innocuous ‘plan’) in Nongkhyllem certainly bears the hallmark of a government puffed with conceit for whom our pristine landscapes are merely something to look at and somehow improve upon; not for the sake of the land, but for a public apparently in need of lessons on how to better appreciate wildlife; not as devotees entering a magnificent outdoor cathedral but as easily distracted folk who are not really interested in nature and need to be lured into the wild by the prospect of water-sports and skywalks.
It is tragic that over the years we have all been systematically groomed to become or endorse the most undesirable kind of tourist – a tourist that feels Nature can only be accessed through or literally from over-the-top manmade viewpoints. Once we looked up to nature, we didn’t look down. We saw and sensed the power of a Life greater than ourselves and that was the mystery nurturing our reverence. How on earth are we to regain that reverence if we are surrounded by chattering busloads and carloads of tourists talking over our co-inhabitants in this corner of our planet? With the competition for living space becoming more acute, the Sanctuary is just that – a refuge. I shudder to think what the impact clicking selfies and the sheer volume of human activity will have on wildlife. But prior to that, will not the chug of bulldozers, the moan of chainsaws, the din of drilling equipment, panic beast, bird, insect and bat? If sonar transmission can disorientate whales with fatal consequences, can you imagine what will happen to forest creatures? We are turning all those living creatures, most of whom we do not know and so don’t care about, into exiles constantly seeking somewhere they can call home to live lives already blighted by PTSD.
Having discovered the profitable potential of our ‘mesmerising’, ‘breath-taking’ (cliché, cliché, groan, groan) landscapes certain Meghalayans have now weaponised the concept of ecotourism presenting it as a sop to beguile the public into accepting that their intentions are disinterested. Had I not spied the juicy figure of ‘Rs 23.60 crore’, I would have given the Tourism department the benefit of the doubt. But as we all know Money and Meghalaya are a toxic mix and we can’t suddenly start looking virtuous just because we speak from under the sheltering umbrella of Ecotourism. Recalling the Garo Student Union’s complaint regarding the ‘shabby’ tourism infra structure in Siju which includes an adventure playground, a bird watching tower with an interpretation centre, a zip line (ST February 2 2025), I would be seriously worried about this proposed invasion of Nongkhyllem. Shouldn’t we be looking instead to placing NO ENTRY signs for certain members of the state and their mates?
We are now told that despite assurances from the government, seven villages are critical about the Wildlife Department bypassing them in the decision-making process. I then wondered if this is the same wildlife department featured in this documentary –
I sincerely hope not because even more now we need your wisdom and commitment on the importance and joy of mutual respect and co-existence.
Was the Wildlife Department overawed by the jargon, have they taken leave of their senses or worse? Is it because they won’t? can’t? daren’t dissent – which is it? We need answers because the ecosystem under threat is as fragile as our trust in the government. And why do we have to consult non-local experts when it is evident that Nongkhyllem has remained a pristine ‘sanctuary’ for centuries without outside assistance?
But then it is typical of the powerful in Meghalaya who feel that they are there to teach as in give orders, and not to learn anymore. They would have us believe they are in possession of knowledge beyond the reach of the hoi polloi. Why rope in ‘experts’ from outside the state instead of trusting those within? Doubtless some excuse for that will be glibly trotted out. They rely on the false premise that if you pay someone a colossal amount of money then the ‘dumb’ public at home automatically believes that the consultation is of great significance.
After all, what does the villager who has never seen chalets and skywalks know? A lot more than you do let me tell you because she/he is in tune with the living heartbeat of the world at home and possesses that most important of all insights: our lives are a part of the natural world not apart from it. Don’t corrupt them too by undermining this critical truth. I therefore completely agree with Khlur Basan’s suggestion that money would be better spent on “improved patrol paths, transparent funding for genuine conservation efforts, and opportunities to establish modest, community-run homestays at the sanctuary’s periphery —not intrusive resorts within its heart”. (italics mine)
Nongkhyllem is Not for Sale —Rescind the “Eco‑Tourism” Contract Now
It is insane to allow “…– a company specializing in wedding and event management – to construct chalet-style resorts, glass skywalks, and even a water-sports arena inside the 29-square-kilometer Nongkhyllem Wildlife Sanctuary. Such plans threaten to transform a critical refuge for clouded leopards, Hoolock gibbons, and rufous-necked hornbills into nothing more than a boutique amusement park”. (Basan) In more ways than one tourism is robbing Meghalaya of her authenticity. Let the wilderness tell her own story. Let the local people be the narrators interpreting a story that has evolved and continues to evolve and teach over centuries. This is the tale a discerning searching tourist will want to hear and one which our own people should hear.
Perhaps the chief minister would do well to produce another guidebook explaining critical words like sanctuary, conservation, restoration. However, if he is oblivious to the irony of posing with his team on the living-root bridge after reports highlighting the stress suffered by these ancient structures due to heavy tourist footfall, then that publication will only be a pie in the sky. Honestly, for once I thought we would take seriously what the papers say but…c’est la vie au Meghalaya.
In our blind rush to be modern we cannot afford to leave the past behind for therein lies the key to our future survival. Nature must never ever be an ‘afterthought’ (George Monbiot – Guardian, April 24, 2025). The Green-Tech Foundation has raised awareness of the threat to Nongkhyllem and if we lose the battle to protect the Sanctuary then we are signing a death sentence for the rest of our homeland. That death will come is a certainty. All that will remain unclear is how long or how drawn out that end will be. It is therefore time for concerted action. Sympathetic noises on Facebook which amount to little more than virtue signalling, are not enough in these dangerous times. If Meghalaya is not to become a playground for the rich and the supermarket of the clouds, then we need to care for her forests for to walk in them “is to enter a pharmacy, a pantry, a gallery” (James Gingell).