Tanzania January 2008

A Maasai elder says a prayer before the meeting starts—a tradition. We are on a ranch protected for wildlife movement. We are gathered, a group of Maasai, myself and colleagues, under a large acacia tree. As a guest, the elder places a massive beaded necklace, the size of a record player, around my neck. I am asked to present myself in Swahili—it is a short presentation.

The ranch is a critical linkage between two parks. We are working to ensure the corridor stays intact through conservation . The greatest threat—agriculture. On the drive through we see elephant, eland, giraffe, warthogs and more. The diversity is impressive.

We drive to Tarangire National Park, known for its elephants and massive baobab trees. These ancient trees have witnessed centuries of life—war, peace, transition, independence. Some of the baobabs are bigger than a house . We are visiting a lion research team. 130 lions have been killed in the last two and a half years. They estimate roughly 400 lions in the Park. Like the supposed big bad wolf, lions have a bad reputation for killing cattle. Yet jackals, hyenas, leopards, cheetah take more cattle than lions. The research team is working with community members to make their bomas (the area where they keep their cattle) more secure, so that the cattle do not become prey.

The researchers are monitoring 11 prides. Their study is critical to understanding lion movement and protecting them as they move out of the Park. Eleven lions have been collared. We stop on a small hill and hold up the telemetry antenna. We here the magic “beep.” They are close. After following the beeps, hearing it get louder and louder, we find a pride of eight lions lounging in the grass. The researchers know each of them. They identify them by the spots on their cheeks, no lion pattern is the same.

The scenery is stunning and the landscape expansive. On the way to camp, we pass a women’s groups that we have supported. One group greets us with song and dance. They are dressed traditionally, blue and red kikoys and elaborate beads. They are a co-op, women joined together to generate money for their families. I am asked to explain who I am in Swahili. When I finish they burst into song and yelping. They adorn me with a necklace. We drink sodas in the dusk and hear of their needs and challenges.

That night we are in a community conservation area. Out “tents” are beautiful. Lovely bed, stone decorated shower and a porch overlooking a lake—the birding is awesome. A family of dwarf mongoose hangs out on the termite mound outside my tent. The next day we meet with the chairperson of the conservation area and a committee member. The cement office building is off the main dirt road (all the roads are dirt in this area.) In the one room office is a desk, five chairs and some poster boards taped to the wall. We discuss the conservation area and their challenges—lack of funds, lack of game scouts (the people who patrol the area for poachers, illegal grazing.)

We depart to visit the game scouts. There are eighteen of them, dressed in army fatigues. They are in a training in a small classroom. Our arrival disrupts the class. Handshakes, introductions, chai is served. Scouts are paid $70 per month to monitor the conservation area. They have no money though, so, these scouts are yet to be paid. They have no vehicles, so they monitor on foot or by bike if they are lucky. They have no guns, but the poachers do. After chai, chapatti and mondazi (doughnuts like fried dough) we are on our way.

On route we see a group of Barba tribe members march down the road. Over a hundred of them. They carry bow and arrows and spears. Its from another world. Their cattle have been stolen. They are marching down the road to Maasai land to reclaim their cattle. We pass them in our vehicle.