Indigenous migrants in northern Colombia battle worsening droughts and floods
Standing next to her makeshift home of scrap metal, wood and plastic tarp, 47-year-old Nelly Mengual recounts how severe flooding and winds tore off her roof a few months ago, leaving her knee-deep in water in her home.
She lives in an informal settlement on the outskirts of Riohacha, in northern Colombia's arid, wind-swept region, where thousands of other Wayuu people, native to the La Guajira region spanning Colombia and Venezuela, also reside.
Although many residents were born in Colombia, it is the Wayuu who fled Venezuela who face the greatest hardship. Having escaped what many describe as economic crisis, they now live in these settlements without access to running water — and for many, without electricity. The Wayuu, whose traditional lands span Colombia and Venezuela, view the border as a political construct rather than a cultural divide, with their relationships and networks transcending national lines.
'This entire hut. Our belongings, what little we had. Everything was lost,' said Mengual, who makes ends meet by recycling scrap material in Maicao.
The Wayuu, the largest Indigenous group in Colombia, are facing the dual threats of climate change-driven droughts and floods. Scientists warn that more severe, prolonged drought periods punctuated by flashes of torrential rain are only getting more common as the world warms. Aside from damaging people's homes, they are also draining water sources, destroying crops, and increasing health risks from waterborne diseases. Many Wayuu families are forced to migrate in search of essential resources, putting even more pressure on already overcrowded urban areas.
Intense flooding challenges the Wayuu's way of life
Ingrid Gonzalez, a Wayuu community leader from Maracaibo who's lived in the Villa del Sol settlement near Riohacha for six years, says those more traditional Wayuu homes, made with sticks and covered in mud, are very susceptible to the rainy season.
'There are many, many houses that flood and fill up with water,' said 29-year-old Gonzalez. 'A strong river of water passes through here, and the mud houses collapse.'
'Some people manage to preserve their homes by reinforcing them, but the damage is still significant,' she said. 'Several of my own roofing sheets were blown off.'
Samuel Lanao, head of Corpoguajira, La Guajira's environment authority, said in 2024 extreme winter floods caused significant losses of homes, crops, and domestic animals in Indigenous communities, particularly among those coming from neighboring Venezuela. 'Because of climate change, there's been a rise in vector-borne diseases like dengue and Zika. Dengue, in particular, has hit Indigenous communities very, very hard,' he said.
Lanao said Corpoguajira has created a Climate Change Plan to cut emissions and boost community and ecosystem resilience.
The shift in weather patterns is undeniable to Camilo Martinez, La Guajira base manager for the Danish Refugee Council, which has a strong presence in the region. With 14 years of experience in the area, he has witnessed these changes firsthand.
'Years ago when I arrived here, there was fog and in certain hours of the morning it was cold. Today that has stopped, as well as in the snow peaks on the nearby mountains ... you don't see that much anymore,' Martinez told The Associated Press at the Uyatpana Indigenous community, on the outskirts of Maicao.
Martinez says the months the rainy season starts has changed, but also the intensity of the rain too when it eventually comes.
Scientific evidence of climate change in La Guajira, supported by data from Colombia's Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology, and Environmental Studies (IDEAM) and various studies, includes rising temperatures, prolonged droughts like the 2012–2016 crisis, irregular rainfall patterns, and increased desertification.
Heat and drought tests informal settlements
Last year's heat was the hottest Gonzalez, the community leader, can remember.
'There are houses where the heat is intense, which affects people, especially those with high blood pressure. They feel tired, flushed, and even unwell,' she said. 'The heat is so strong that it even affects the animals. Neighbors who have chickens have lost some of them due to the extreme heat, as the animals are suffocating.'
A significant portion of the Wayuu population maintains traditional, semi-nomadic lifestyles, residing in rancherias — thatched-roof huts made from dried cacti and mud — and herding cattle and goats.
In many informal settlements, residents lack access to running water or sanitation services. Water sellers transport untreated water in barrels, using mules to distribute it between homes for a fee. While many people rely on collecting rainwater, the increasing unpredictability of rainfall has made this source of water less dependable.
'They have been forced to buy water from sources that aren't clean, transported by mules or carts that make long journeys to bring it to families,' said Martinez. 'This water isn't drinkable—it can only be used for washing or cooking. But people are left with no choice but to drink it. This is one of the biggest consequences of the droughts and the lack of rainfall during these seasons.'
Many non-governmental organizations say they step in to support these areas in La Guajira where state assistance is minimal or entirely absent. Colombia's environment ministry did not respond to AP's requests for comment.
Wayuu leader Anibal Mercado told AP the migrant Wayuu population suffers the most because of climate change.
'You find them picking up garbage, you find them recycling, which has never been seen before. And that is a product of the neglect of the government. The State has been promoting neoliberal policies that go against traditional rights, with which the Wayuu used to provide for their own economy... their own food," he said.
Many work to rebuild, again and again
In the neighborhood of Uyatpana, 28-year-old Laura Pushaina sits on a stool, weaving a chinchorro, a traditional Wayuu hammock used for sleeping. With five children between the ages of one and ten, she says the intricate work will take her four days to complete.
Pushaina is one of thousands of Wayuu people who cross into Colombia and establish settlements. Due to shifting political and economic conditions in the region, many have left homes in neighboring Venezuela.
Many, like Pushaina, told the AP they hope to return to their rancherias on the Venezuelan side of the border, but they believe the political and economic situation remains too unstable to do so. Some also said that relocating from the informal settlements would help, as the land is unsuitable for living without running water or proper sewage infrastructure.
Just a few months ago, Pushaina's home was destroyed by the floods.
'I've lived through the worst of times," she said. 'The water would seep through the mud, and sometimes it came in like a river, flowing through here.'
___
The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.
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The Guardian
05-05-2025
- The Guardian
How the climate crisis threatens Indigenous traditions in Canada: ‘It's not the way it used to be'
Janelle Oombash stands on the smooth ice of an outdoor rink, keeping score and watching the time as two teams of teenagers run across the ice, whacking a ball with sticks under the afternoon sun. Outside the rink, a bonfire crackles, keeping spectators warm as they watch the game. Broomball has been played for more than a century in northern Ontario. The game is similar to hockey, but players use a ball instead of a puck and wear specialized shoes rather than skates. Now 31, Oombash started playing the game at age 11. Her dad is a coach and taught her to play. 'It's a big sport. Everybody plays broomball or hockey,' she said. Oombash organized today's broomball tournament in Cat Lake First Nation, a remote Ojibway community of 650 people nestled about 500km north of Lake Superior as a way to encourage teenagers to socialize. She pointed at two boys on the same team. 'These boys here, you would never see them talk. But in broomball, they can play together. 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Global heating is changing the migration patterns of animals that are crucial sources of food, and endangering sacred plants such as sage, burned in ceremonies, and black ash, used to weave baskets and make medicine. In northern Ontario, warming temperatures are threatening wintertime events such as broomball, hockey, ice fishing and goose hunting. Shorter winter seasons and disappearing ice are forcing subarctic communities to adapt. 'I'm hoping they build an arena so we could play all year round,' Oombash said. 'Because we all know the climate is going to change. We all know it's going to get warmer and warmer.' The landscape of northern Ontario consists of evergreen forests and spongy muskeg cut through by intertwined lakes and rivers. Dozens of remote First Nations are scattered across the north, accessible only by plane and thousands of kilometres of ice roads. In winter, the lakes freeze solid and snow cloaks the landscape, allowing people to travel overland to hunting camps. Winter is prime hunting season in Eabametoong First Nation, a remote community of about 1,600 people. It's the time of year that the lake surrounding the community freezes solid, enabling people to drive across and join family members in nearby communities for hunting trips. In March, Eabametoong resident Martha Papah was looking forward to spending the weekend at her adult son's hunting camp in the neighbouring community of Neskantaga. They planned to hunt beaver for meat and pelts, which can be made into blankets, hats or gloves. Beaver is a delicacy in winter because the animals haven't yet had the chance to eat plants that make their meat bitter. 'This time of year is good if you want to have beaver,' she said. To reach Neskantaga, Papah must drive over an ice road that crosses a 5.5km-wide frozen lake, with ice that has become thinner and more treacherous in recent years. 'I'm excited, and at the same time, you have to be on guard on the ice road. 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The Independent
04-03-2025
- The Independent
Indigenous migrants in northern Colombia battle worsening droughts and floods
Standing next to her makeshift home of scrap metal, wood and plastic tarp, 47-year-old Nelly Mengual recounts how severe flooding and winds tore off her roof a few months ago, leaving her knee-deep in water in her home. She lives in an informal settlement on the outskirts of Riohacha, in northern Colombia's arid, wind-swept region, where thousands of other Wayuu people, native to the La Guajira region spanning Colombia and Venezuela, also reside. Although many residents were born in Colombia, it is the Wayuu who fled Venezuela who face the greatest hardship. Having escaped what many describe as economic crisis, they now live in these settlements without access to running water — and for many, without electricity. The Wayuu, whose traditional lands span Colombia and Venezuela, view the border as a political construct rather than a cultural divide, with their relationships and networks transcending national lines. 'This entire hut. Our belongings, what little we had. Everything was lost,' said Mengual, who makes ends meet by recycling scrap material in Maicao. The Wayuu, the largest Indigenous group in Colombia, are facing the dual threats of climate change-driven droughts and floods. Scientists warn that more severe, prolonged drought periods punctuated by flashes of torrential rain are only getting more common as the world warms. Aside from damaging people's homes, they are also draining water sources, destroying crops, and increasing health risks from waterborne diseases. Many Wayuu families are forced to migrate in search of essential resources, putting even more pressure on already overcrowded urban areas. Intense flooding challenges the Wayuu's way of life Ingrid Gonzalez, a Wayuu community leader from Maracaibo who's lived in the Villa del Sol settlement near Riohacha for six years, says those more traditional Wayuu homes, made with sticks and covered in mud, are very susceptible to the rainy season. 'There are many, many houses that flood and fill up with water,' said 29-year-old Gonzalez. 'A strong river of water passes through here, and the mud houses collapse.' 'Some people manage to preserve their homes by reinforcing them, but the damage is still significant,' she said. 'Several of my own roofing sheets were blown off.' Samuel Lanao, head of Corpoguajira, La Guajira's environment authority, said in 2024 extreme winter floods caused significant losses of homes, crops, and domestic animals in Indigenous communities, particularly among those coming from neighboring Venezuela. 'Because of climate change, there's been a rise in vector-borne diseases like dengue and Zika. Dengue, in particular, has hit Indigenous communities very, very hard,' he said. Lanao said Corpoguajira has created a Climate Change Plan to cut emissions and boost community and ecosystem resilience. The shift in weather patterns is undeniable to Camilo Martinez, La Guajira base manager for the Danish Refugee Council, which has a strong presence in the region. With 14 years of experience in the area, he has witnessed these changes firsthand. 'Years ago when I arrived here, there was fog and in certain hours of the morning it was cold. Today that has stopped, as well as in the snow peaks on the nearby mountains ... you don't see that much anymore,' Martinez told The Associated Press at the Uyatpana Indigenous community, on the outskirts of Maicao. Martinez says the months the rainy season starts has changed, but also the intensity of the rain too when it eventually comes. Scientific evidence of climate change in La Guajira, supported by data from Colombia's Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology, and Environmental Studies (IDEAM) and various studies, includes rising temperatures, prolonged droughts like the 2012–2016 crisis, irregular rainfall patterns, and increased desertification. Heat and drought tests informal settlements Last year's heat was the hottest Gonzalez, the community leader, can remember. 'There are houses where the heat is intense, which affects people, especially those with high blood pressure. They feel tired, flushed, and even unwell,' she said. 'The heat is so strong that it even affects the animals. Neighbors who have chickens have lost some of them due to the extreme heat, as the animals are suffocating.' A significant portion of the Wayuu population maintains traditional, semi-nomadic lifestyles, residing in rancherias — thatched-roof huts made from dried cacti and mud — and herding cattle and goats. In many informal settlements, residents lack access to running water or sanitation services. Water sellers transport untreated water in barrels, using mules to distribute it between homes for a fee. While many people rely on collecting rainwater, the increasing unpredictability of rainfall has made this source of water less dependable. 'They have been forced to buy water from sources that aren't clean, transported by mules or carts that make long journeys to bring it to families,' said Martinez. 'This water isn't drinkable—it can only be used for washing or cooking. But people are left with no choice but to drink it. This is one of the biggest consequences of the droughts and the lack of rainfall during these seasons.' Many non-governmental organizations say they step in to support these areas in La Guajira where state assistance is minimal or entirely absent. Colombia's environment ministry did not respond to AP's requests for comment. Wayuu leader Anibal Mercado told AP the migrant Wayuu population suffers the most because of climate change. 'You find them picking up garbage, you find them recycling, which has never been seen before. And that is a product of the neglect of the government. The State has been promoting neoliberal policies that go against traditional rights, with which the Wayuu used to provide for their own economy... their own food," he said. Many work to rebuild, again and again In the neighborhood of Uyatpana, 28-year-old Laura Pushaina sits on a stool, weaving a chinchorro, a traditional Wayuu hammock used for sleeping. With five children between the ages of one and ten, she says the intricate work will take her four days to complete. Pushaina is one of thousands of Wayuu people who cross into Colombia and establish settlements. Due to shifting political and economic conditions in the region, many have left homes in neighboring Venezuela. Many, like Pushaina, told the AP they hope to return to their rancherias on the Venezuelan side of the border, but they believe the political and economic situation remains too unstable to do so. Some also said that relocating from the informal settlements would help, as the land is unsuitable for living without running water or proper sewage infrastructure. Just a few months ago, Pushaina's home was destroyed by the floods. 'I've lived through the worst of times," she said. 'The water would seep through the mud, and sometimes it came in like a river, flowing through here.' ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
The Guardian
25-02-2025
- The Guardian
Wildfire debris washes up on LA beaches after major rainstorm
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