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Ami Vitale

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  • The signs of changing times are evident as Maasai children relax with a game of football as their elders walk by cloaked in traditional clothing during lunch break at the Endulen Primary school in Ngornogoro District in Tanzania September 29, 2003.  Most Maasai now see the value of sending their children to school so they can have a voice in the government to protect themselves with increasing land loss. The Maasai were thrown out of the Crater in 1972 in the name of conservation and are being threatened again  under a torrent of new legislation. Like other indigenous people the world over, they continue to be evicted from their land in the name of tourism and conservation. They have lived on these lands for centuries but now struggle to survive on their borders, especially in the difficult drought years. Though they were able to live in harmony with the wildlife for centuries, the places with rich water sources are now preserved for tourists.  Eco-tourism, the government solution to chronic poverty, brings in vast revenues but sadly, the dispossessed Maasai are not allowed to benefit. Only a handful, mostly foreign owned tourist operators profit and only a tiny portion of the money actually filters through to the local economy.
    ami123.jpg
  • Maasai pastoralists collect water at one of the few sources in Endulen, outside of the pristine Ngornogoro Crater in Tanzania, October 4, 2003.  The Maasai were thrown out of the Crater in 1972 in the name of conservation and are being threatened again with further land loss under a torrent of new legislation. Like other indigenous people the world over, they continue to be evicted from their land in the name of tourism and conservation. They have lived on these lands for centuries but now struggle to survive on their borders, especially in the difficult drought years. Though they were able to live in harmony with the wildlife for centuries, the places with rich water sources are now preserved for tourists.  Eco-tourism, the government solution to chronic poverty, brings in vast revenues but sadly, the dispossessed Maasai are not allowed to benefit. Only a handful, mostly foreign owned tourist operators profit and only a tiny portion of the money actually filters through to the local economy.
    ami104.jpg
  • Damiam Kailek, 24, who is going onthe Thelon expidition fishes together with elder Sam Boucher and Steve Ellis, (working to protect the Thelon as a national park) in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1814.JPG
  • Women from the Dene' Band  collect blueberries in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 20, 2011. This huge reach of untrammeled country is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. The closure had far-reaching effects on all the wildlife.  In addition, mineral exploration was kept out of the sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
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  • Children in the village of Lutsel K'e play as the sun sets July 22, 2011. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1935.TIFF
  • Damian Kailek, 24,  prepares  for an expedition into the Thelon Sanctuary in his home of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
    DSC_1416.TIF
  • Leroy Catholique, 21, stands inside his mothers teepee where she cries caribou skin to make moccasins July 20, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary.
    DSC_1388.TIFF
  • Great Slave lake is shown from the village of Lutsel K'e (aka Snowdrift) July 23, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, this abundant wildlife, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. Aboriginal peoples--Dene from the West and Inuit from the East--travelled it, hunting and searching for wood and fish, and white trappers sledded and canoed across it, building the occasional cabin. In 1927 the area was closed to both sport and subsistence hunting to protect dwindling numbers of muskox. The closure had far-reaching effects on all the region's wildlife: muskox recovered handsomely, and the Beverly caribou herd, which migrates across the sanctuary and is hunted far to the south, now numbers almost 300,000 animals; most importantly, a large enough block of country was set aside so that human-shy species such as grizzlies might have enough room to insure their long-term survival--measured neither in decades nor a century, but over five hundred to a thousand years. In addition, mineral exploration was kept out of the sanctuary, and, because of the region's great distance from air traffic centers, a small number of canoeists and anglers have come to run its rivers. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
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  • Children in the village of Lutsel K'e play as the sun sets July 22, 2011. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
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  • Children in the village of Lutsel K'e play as the sun sets July 22, 2011. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1926.JPG
  • Damiam Kailek, 24, who is going onthe Thelon expidition fishes together with elder Sam Boucher and Steve Ellis, (working to protect the Thelon as a national park) in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1851.JPG
  • Damiam Kailek, 24, who is going onthe Thelon expidition fishes together with elder Sam Boucher and Steve Ellis, (working to protect the Thelon as a national park) in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1821.JPG
  • Women from the Dene' Band  collect blueberries in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 20, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, this abundant wildlife, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. Aboriginal peoples--Dene from the West and Inuit from the East--travelled it, hunting and searching for wood and fish, and white trappers sledded and canoed across it, building the occasional cabin. In 1927 the area was closed to both sport and subsistence hunting to protect dwindling numbers of muskox. The closure had far-reaching effects on all the region's wildlife: muskox recovered handsomely, and the Beverly caribou herd, which migrates across the sanctuary and is hunted far to the south, now numbers almost 300,000 animals; most importantly, a large enough block of country was set aside so that human-shy species such as grizzlies might have enough room to insure their long-term survival--measured neither in decades nor a century, but over five hundred to a thousand years. In addition, mineral exploration was kept out of the sanctuary, and, because of the region's great distance from air traffic centers, a small number of canoeists and anglers have come to run its rivers. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1406.JPG
  • Women from the Dene' Band  collect blueberries in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 20, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, this abundant wildlife, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. Aboriginal peoples--Dene from the West and Inuit from the East--travelled it, hunting and searching for wood and fish, and white trappers sledded and canoed across it, building the occasional cabin. In 1927 the area was closed to both sport and subsistence hunting to protect dwindling numbers of muskox. The closure had far-reaching effects on all the region's wildlife: muskox recovered handsomely, and the Beverly caribou herd, which migrates across the sanctuary and is hunted far to the south, now numbers almost 300,000 animals; most importantly, a large enough block of country was set aside so that human-shy species such as grizzlies might have enough room to insure their long-term survival--measured neither in decades nor a century, but over five hundred to a thousand years. In addition, mineral exploration was kept out of the sanctuary, and, because of the region's great distance from air traffic centers, a small number of canoeists and anglers have come to run its rivers. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1348.JPG
  • Women from the Dene' Band  collect blueberries in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 20, 2011. This huge reach of untrammeled country is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. The closure had far-reaching effects on all the wildlife.  In addition, mineral exploration was kept out of the sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1332.JPG
  • Dene First Nation relax on a warm day in the sub arctic waters of the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
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  • Dene First Nation youth play in the sub arctic waters of the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
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  • Scientist Richard Jeo looks for a camp in the Thelon Sanctuary  in August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
    DSC_3047.TIF
  • Mike Palmer, left and Richard Jeo, right take out a hook as Brendan Felix Head, 14, watches  as the Dene First Nation youth  paddle on the waters of the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
    DSC_2954.TIF
  • Damian Kailek, 24, from the Dene First Nation paddles in the Thelon Sanctuary August, 2011. It is a place ruled by the biggest and smallest--the grizzly and the mosquito--and by the extremes of sub-arctic seasons. The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of. (Photo by Ami Vitale)
    DSC_2901.TIFF
  • Dene First Nation youth eat dinner with their mosquito suits on in the Thelon Sanctuary August, 2011. It is a place ruled by the biggest and smallest--the grizzly and the mosquito--and by the extremes of sub-arctic seasons. The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of. (Photo by Ami Vitale)
    DSC_2799.TIF
  • Sanjayan Muttulingam paddles in the sub arctic waters of the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
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  • Villagers from the Dene' First Nation watch as Dene First Nation youth get on a float plane and leave their village of Lutsel K'e (aka Snowdrift) on their way to the Thelon Sanctuary  July 22, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
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  • Children in the village of Lutsel K'e play as the sun sets July 22, 2011. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
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  • Damian Kailek, 24,  cooks fish in his home of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
    DSC_1704.TIFF
  • Damian Kailek, 24, fishes  in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1649.TIFF
  • River Marlow, 7, and Levi Shearling, 6, play on their trampoline in their village of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada. This huge reach of untrammeled country, this abundant wildlife, is partially the result of the creation of the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary. Located equidistant from Hudson Bay and Great Slave Lake, the region now encompassed by the sanctuary was never permanently settled. There are few places left on the planet as untouched as this.
    DSC_1477.TIFF
  • Damian Kailek, 24,  prepares  for an expedition into the Thelon Sanctuary in his home of Lutsel Ke' (aka Snowdrift) July 21, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
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  • The village of Lutsel K'e (aka Snowdrift) is shown July 22, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
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  • Passengers wait for the baggage in the Yellowknife airport in the Northwest Territories in Canada July 19, 2011. A polar bear decorates the airport but no bears are found for at least a hundred miles farther North. (Photo by Ami Vitale)
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  • Dene First Nation youth put up their tents along the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
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  • Villagers from the Dene' First Nation enjoy a sunset in Lutsel K'e (aka Snowdrift) July 22, 2011 in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
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  • Dene First Nation youth hang fresh caribou meat to dry at a campsite along the Thelon river August, 2011.  The Thelon is the largest and most remote game sanctuary in North America, which almost no one has heard of.  For the Akaitcho Dene, the Upper Thelon River is "the place where God began."  Sparsely populated, today few make it into the Thelon. Distances are simply too far, modern vehicles too expensive and unreliable. For the Dene youth, faced with the pressures of a western world, the ties that bind the people and their way of life to the land are even more tenuous. Every impending mine, road, and dam construction threatens to sever these connections.(Photo by Ami Vitale)
    DSC_1198.TIF
  • Akuguk Roman Cholkovich (74), an indigenous Chukchu tribal hangs salmon at their summer fishing camp along the river Vyvenka in Khailino, Kamchatka. His family along with other indigenous families are most vulnerable to the dwindling salmon stocks as they rely on it as a main source of protein for the entire year. Poaching in Kamchatka is on such a large scale that, like the sturgeon, the Pacific salmon is at risk of disappearing altogether. The economy is struggling and the only way for most people to survive is through poaching and fishing in the short summer months. So now the fish population is rapidly declining as poachers collect the eggs and don't allow the salmon to spawn for the next generations
    66-15-Vitaa-03.jpg
  • Akuguk Roman Cholkovich (74) and  his wife Raisa Romanovna (79), indigenous Chukchu tribals rest after a 16 hour day of catching salmon that they filet and dry at their summer fishing camp along the river Vyvenka in Khailino, Kamchatka July 15, 2007. Most indigenous people rely on the salmon harvested in the summer for the whole year. They dry it and feed it to themselves and their dogs that they use to get around on sleds in the harsh winter months. Because the area is so remote and no longer subsidized by the Russian or Soviet government of the past goods and gasoline are extremely expensive. The economy is struggling and the only way for most people to survive is through poaching and fishing in the short summer months. So now the fish population is rapidly declining as poachers collect the eggs and don't allow the salmon to spawn for the next generations.
    66-MPOY-Vitaa-23.jpg