By Riathung Ngullie

“What is Hornbill called in your language/mother tongue?” I came across this question, asked by the host, Dr. Haʻalilio Solomon, to the attendees during a global webinar on endangered language documentation and preservation hosted by the Endangered Languages Project (ELP) and other approaches to safeguarding a spoken language. 

When this question struck me, I did not have the answer, as growing up I realised I never saw a Hornbill and those I associated with had hardly seen it themselves. My only thought then was to refer to books written on Naga people by British or foreign missionaries, which were few but accessible. 

Surprisingly, I found little reference to names of ecological or biological habitat, as most colonial records seemed to focus on ethnographic recordings of “Lhota Nagas” (Mills, 1922). 

Now, one might then wonder, why a Hornbill, of all the birds? 

Photo: The Great Indian Hornbill Source: Kalyanvarma, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Let me explain. The Hornbill is a revered ancestral icon of the Naga people. Despite  differences in language, all Naga communities beyond postcolonial borders revere the ancestral Hornbill bird, so much so that it is sung and danced in many songs and in many endangered Naga languages, comparing a lover to the splendour of the majestic Hornbill bird. 

Going further, in times of ancestral living some centuries ago, only a warrior of great and daring courage was entitled to wear the hornbill feathers on their headband, thus proclaiming their heroic abilities to the sight of its onlookers. Naga people would take pride in narrating the heroic actions of warriors from their clans, repeated by their kinsmen, their village and the larger community, repeating and immortalising their lore.  

Photo: Elderly Naga men and women dressed to showcase their traditional attire at the Hornbill  Festival, Kisama, Dec 2024.  Source: Riathung Ngullie

Photo: A young Rengma Naga lad sits near a fireplace during the Hornbill festival in Kisama. Source: Riathung Ngullie

History has proven that a language and culture does not disappear overnight, but the erosion happens gradually.  

When the last bird has stopped singing, when the communities no longer hear its songs, when the community stops calling its name in a language they once knew, its previous existence begins to wither away, a bit of the present begins to be chipped down, then it soon ceases to exist!

About the author: Riathung Ngullie is from the Kyong Naga community, also known as "Lotha" Naga, in Nagaland state in Northeast India. He holds a master's degree in social work and has worked extensively with Indigenous and migrant communities across India. As a Communications and Storytelling Intern at ELP during the 2024-2025 academic year, he gathered and shared stories from his own community, as well as building networks of knowledge sharing and storytelling between Indigenous communities worldwide.

During the second week of March, four members of the ELP team - Language Revitalization Mentors Yulha Lhawa, Yazmín Novelo, and Alexandra Philbin, and Executive Director Anna Belew - had the honor and privilege of attending the 9th International Conference on Language Documentation and Conservation (ICLDC 9) at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. 

Yulha Lhawa, Yazmin Novelo, Alexandra Philbin, and Anna Belew at ICLDC

ELP kicked off ICLDC 9 by hosting the pre-conference event: a special in-person screening of digital stories by language champions around the world. These deeply personal short films shared the real-life experiences of people working to revitalize and reclaim their languages, and highlighted the voices of 12 language champions from 11 countries. We thank everyone who attended, showed their appreciation to the storytellers, and shared how profoundly moved they were by these stories. 

Attendees listen to Esraa Alrasheed (Nubian language, Sudan) introduce her digital story at the screening on March 5.

ELP also hosted a booth in the main conference hall and a "video postcard room" with a professional videographer, where conference attendees could film greetings to folks back home, share about what they'd learned and connections they'd made at ICLDC, and send good wishes to other communities around the world. We'll be sharing some of these video postcards in the coming days! 

Left to right: Alexandra Philbin, Yazmin Novelo, Anna Belew, and Yulha Lhawa greet attendees at the ELP booth.

The ELP team also presented a poster on (re)envisioning and crafting futures for Indigenous languages. The poster invited viewers to dream ambitious futures for their languages and communities, and consider the paths that would lead to those futures. We had the chance to talk with so many amazing language champions, to share our visions, aspirations, and challenges, and to make a space to change the fatalistic narratives that dominate so much conversation around language endangerment.

Talking with attendees at the ELP poster session, sharing visions for language futures

Amid all the activity, most importantly, the ELP team had the opportunity to connect with old and new friends and colleagues, grow their networks of language champions from all over the world, and learn from people doing amazing and innovative work in language revitalization, documentation, and advocacy.  The relationships that emerged and deepened from this time in Honolulu will continue to guide and grow our work. 

We extend our profound gratitude to the organizers and volunteers who made ICLDC possible, to everyone who shared their time and knowledge at the conference, to the Hawaiian people for permitting us to visit and learn as guests on their land, and to the lands and waters of Oʻahu. 

Each member of the ELP team who attended has shared their reflections on the conference, in their own words:

Yulha Lhawa: 

"ICLDC was a week of reconnecting, learning, and soaking in the energy of a community that truly gets it. Meeting my colleagues Yazmin and Alex in person after years of working together was surreal—we’ve spent so much time on screens, but finally sharing meals, laughing, and interacting face-to-face made everything feel more real. One of the most special moments was the ELP reunion at a beautiful home in the mountains, where we heard the story of how ELP started, a reminder of how a small seed, nurtured with care and love, can grow into something impactful. The conference itself was packed with deep conversations, unexpected reunions, and exciting opportunities, including an invitation from a professor at Boise State University to share my work on language documentation and revitalization. And of course, there were all the little moments: hiking, late-night spam musubi, and a lovely afternoon at Anna’s favorite beach before the conference, all adding to an experience that felt nothing short of magical."

Alexandra Philbin: 

"‘Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine’. This Irish proverb means that it is by being connected with other people that we live. It comes to mind as I think back to the wonderful time I had at ICLDC on Oʻahu. I was able to see old friends, some of whom I had only seen online (including my ELP colleagues!), and meet new ones. I took part in many wonderful conversations - at presentations and posters, at the ELP conference stand and video postcard room and over meals and walks around Honolulu. Central to all of these conversations was a deep commitment to language diversity, to language revitalisation, to the wellbeing of people and communities. 

Coming together to share our work, our ideas, our stories was really amazing, and it was very special to be able to do it in Hawaiʻi; a place with such an inspiring reclamation movement. The focus of the conference was on diaspora communities, and the kinds of conversations and ideas that this sparked are really needed right now. The conference was a good reminder of ‘ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine’, of the importance of connecting with people, of living and working in community and in solidarity with people."

Yazmín Novelo:

"It was my first time attending the conference, and I must confess that I was pleasantly surprised by the nature of the event, which deviated significantly from the academic format in which professors present their thoughts on our languages. Instead, the attendees were practitioners, members of their communities, and the talks related to the realities and experiences directly lived by their speakers. I believe that linguistic revitalization is in our hands, and what I saw gave me great hope.

Many of the talks I heard had something in common: whether they were communities in the diaspora or in their territories: language is no longer seen as a separate element requiring intervention, like a limb undergoing surgery. From experiences with technology to the implementation of school programs, the common denominator was strengthening the language to strengthen ourselves as people. This is summed up in the experience of the Cherokee people, who concluded their presentation on language immersion by saying, "It's not just about creating Cherokee speakers, it's about growing Cherokee." This thought remains in my head, thank you ICLDC 2025, see you in two years."

Anna Belew:

"Attending ICLDC always feels like returning home. Not only to the island I called my home for a few years as a PhD student at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, but to the broader community of people working in language documentation and revitalization. 

ICLDC has been a bright thread woven through all my language work. My first ICLDC, in 2013, was the first time I ever visited Honolulu - besides being bowled over by the power and beauty of Oʻahu, the conference and the people I met there cemented my choice to do my PhD at UHM. I served on the student organizing committee for ICLDC in 2015 and 2017, getting incredible firsthand education in how conferences are run from start to finish. And I've attended every subsequent ICLDC. The energy is always beautiful - hundreds of people who share a vision for a world of thriving languages and communities, coming together to learn and support each other. It genuinely feels like a very large family, in many ways. 

But this ICLDC was particularly special. After ICLDC moved online in 2021 and 2023 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this was many people's first time physically seeing their ICLDC "family" in years. The sense of joy and gratitude at being together again was palpable. For me, everywhere I turned, I saw familiar and beloved faces - some of friends, colleagues, and mentors I hadn't seen in years, and some of people I'd only ever known online, including my longtime ELP colleagues Yazmín and Alex!

I learned so much, as I always do at ICLDC. Brilliant ideas, deep knowledge, unwavering conviction, tears and laughter were present throughout the sessions. But there was also a tangible sense of relief and rest in being together in this moment. The relief and nourishment of being among kind and courageous and smart people who believe in a world of diversity, of Indigenous resurgence, of respectful and reciprocal relations among our human and other-than-human communities. There were hard discussions about the future of our field in these dark and uncertain times. But we were together. And we will keep working together to sustain and nourish languages and communities. A hui hou - until we're together again."

Yulha greets Mānoa Falls

Would you like to help support ELP's work to strengthen language revitalization in this critical moment? Get your very own ELP t-shirt like the ones in the photos, with the design "Our Roots, Our Languages", or make a tax-deductible donation.

By Maison Ole Nkurrunah, ELP Communications and Storytelling Intern

A couple of weeks back, I had the distinct honour of representing the Endangered Languages Project (ELP) at the International Funders for Indigenous Peoples Global Conference.

The International Funders for Indigenous Peoples Global Conference 2025 was hosted by my country and on the ancestral lands of the Maasai People (my people) by the shores of Lake Naivasha.

Naivasha, is an anglicized version of the Maasai word ‘Enaiposha’ meaning ‘disturbed waters/waters that are not still’.

The conference commenced on 17th and ran through to 21st February. The theme of the conference being 'Global Impact, Local Solutions: Funding Indigenous Self Determination and Leadership.'

The conference for me was a symbolic and eye-opening experience as I got to mingle and interact with different individuals from all over the world working at different capacities in uplifting Indigenous peoples. 

    

Some of the high level workshops and showcases I got to participate in include; the second Indigenous Youth Dialogue where we developed a manifesto that would provide a guideline for future engagement for Indigenous youth in different local and global spaces, Solidarity Funding in Accompaniment to Indigenous Governments and Decoloniality, Cross-Learning in Indigenous Leadership, Roots of the Future and How Indigenous Peoples are Addressing Biodiversity Loss and Climate Change, Integrating Indigenous Wisdom and Human Rights with Participatory Grantmaking, the Role of Funds in Supporting Indigenous Communities among other very enlightening sessions.

On the sidelines, I had the opportunity to talk to many people on the importance of language revitalization and what we, the Endangered Languages Project are doing all over the world to support endangered languages.

Languages are the threads that tie us to our past while placing us in longing for the future. Our history, our land, our governance structures and our cultures are preserved and conserved through languages. When we lose our languages, we lose a lot.

 If you would like to make a tax-deductible donation to support the work of ELP, we gratefully accept contributions at https://www.endangeredlanguages.com/donate/

 If you are interested in speaking with ELP about funding partnerships, we welcome you to reach out to ELP's Executive Director, Dr. Anna Belew: anna@endangeredlanguages.com

 By Maison Ole Nkurrunah, ELP Communications & Storytelling Intern

I watched Mzee Salaton Lenadung’uenkop don his elder’s regalia known as Sampuut - consisting of a furry cap and furry hood made of animal skin draped over his shoulders. As an Ogiek Elder, this is what he wears when performing any service that calls for seriousness that involves the preservation and protection of his People’s ways. He wears this suit with pride and a nostalgic smile to cap it all.

 All along, he has not stopped giving me anecdotes here and there on his people’s history, dating back ages with my own people, the Maasai, as they live side by side. Matter of fact, he reminds me that the language of the Maasai, among other larger Kenyan languages where the Ogiek community is spread, is one of the key assimilators of the Ogiek culture and language. However, all is not lost - as we walk through the trees, he goes on to show me practically the knowledge of his People, explaining what he and other elders in the community are doing to revitalize everything Ogiek to the daily lives of their People. 

He looks up at the trees as we walk towards the Ogiek Cultural Village, as he explains to me in detail the different noises emanating from them. From the variety of bird species, the little monkeys and bushbabies alike all sounded like a cacophony of heavenly melodies that were all making up a single orchestra of nature. 

Every single animal or bird in the Mau Forest ecosystem has a role to play in the life of the Ogiek. Every tree, every plant has a meaning. None is more important than the other. Be it a plant, a root, a leaf, a stream or a bee – they are all fundamental parts of their everyday life and their growth and existence are intertwined with theirs.

Sadly, our conversation is purely in the Maasai language – my own language. This is mainly because Mzee Salaton and other Ogiek community members have been forced to assimilate into the Maasai culture on this side of the Mau Forest belt. This is the same trend on the other side of the forest where the Kalenjin, another bigger community, live side by side with them. The Ogiek language is one of the endangered languages in Kenya, with two of its three dialects being dormant already. 

Through people like Mzee Salaton, the Ogiek People’s Development Program has initiated strategies and systems to revitalize and pass their language down to the younger generations of their people. As a learning camp over the school holidays for Ogiek youth, the Ogiek Cultural Center hosts learners from the community, where they are taken through basic language training and other cultural classes that are essential for everyday life.

 Other initiatives that the Center is carrying out towards revitalization are a music studio where musicians of Ogiek descent can record music in their language for free, a library to document the literature of their people, and an artifact repository to act as a museum for cultural artifacts that are getting lost. They are also in the process of setting up a resource library online for all things Ogiek, as well as initiation of the process of developing an Ogiek Language Dictionary. The dictionary project, according to the center manager, Mr. Samson Luari, is a tedious endeavor that requires resources and a large pool of community effort. It is, however, a task that they are willing to undertake fully for the benefit of future generations of Ogiek people.

Subsequent governments of the Kenyan State have over the years used policy to harass and intimidate the Ogiek people who predominantly reside in forested areas, pushing them out of their ancestral homelands. Years and years of court proceedings, including a historic win in the African Court of Justice at Arusha in 2017, saw the African Court compel the Kenyan government to pay the Ogiek reparations both in monetary form and the delivery of a collective title for land to settle the community members for atrocities meted on them over the years.

You can read both sadness and hope in Mzee Salaton’s eyes as he narrates to me the impact the Center has already had in bringing back all that has been lost by the community through cultural assimilation owing to their small numbers. He has lived through years of forced evictions, targeted marginalization and minimal representation in any level of administration. He knows what his people have gone through and the circumstances that this peril has caused his people. However, he believes that there is hope on the horizon through initiatives like the Ogiek Cultural Center and other community-based solutions that are seeking to restore their almost lost ways and to revitalize their language that is threatened by extinction.

 All is not lost.

Learn more about the Ogiek Cultural Center at http://ogiekpeoples.org 

This International Mother Language Day, February 21, join the Endangered Languages Project and language champions around the world for a screening of digital stories that explore the links between language, life, memory, and community. ⁠

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These short films share the real-life experiences of people working to revitalize and reclaim their languages, offering deeply personal reflections on their relationship to their languages, and sharing the motivations, challenges, and joys in their language work.⁠

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This screening will showcase digital stories created by language champions who participated in an online digital storytelling workshop held by the Endangered Languages Project and facilitated by StoryCenter.

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We invite you to come hear their stories, show them your support and appreciation, and find inspiration and possibilities for your own language work.⁠

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Date: February 21, 2025⁠

Time: 10:00 am Pacific (UTC -8)⁠

Free and online⁠

Register: bit.ly/LanguageAndLife