A group paper I led on using ecology to understand carnivore-livestock conflict and promote coexistence has just been published in Conservation Biology! Working with such inspiring, multidisciplinary coauthors was a joy. You can find the study here.
Our group’s goal is that the framework we present in the study will provide a concrete set of ecological guiding principles for researchers, conservationists, and livestock managers who are seeking to alleviate carnivore-livestock conflict.
Since last I wrote, my field work has come to an end and analysis has begun. It has been a multidisciplinary wild ride. I’ll stick with the ecology and behavior components of my research for this first update.
Hyenas in fancy necklaces
After much government-level controversy and a decent amount of time, the ban on darting of wildlife in Kenya was finally lifted in February 2019 (I’ll save the juicy longer story for a future post). Because I had been geared up to collar since July 2018, I was one of the lucky few researchers to get my collaring plan re-approved right away- so I dropped everything and hopped on a plane to Nairobi almost immediately after hearing the news of the lifted ban. With much ado, drama (dare I say?), and effort by many parties, we ended up collaring seven spotted hyenas, representing 5 clans (two clans in Lake Nakuru National Park and three clans in Soysambu Conservancy). It was a great success.
The goal of this part of my study is to analyze the fine-scale (5-minute fix rates) movements of spotted hyenas in relation to linear barriers (fences, roads), other anthropogenic features and activities, land cover, livestock enclosures, and livestock predation events. Though spotted hyenas are heavily implicated in human-carnivore conflict, these aspects, especially at such a fine scale, have hardly been studied. Though the start-up effort was immense, there’s something inherently satisfying about having these hyenas out there collecting data for me, and looking at their movements each day on Google Earth hasn’t yet stopped being exciting. So far, the hyenas are showing us a few things: 1) the clans are using up every single inch of space in these two small protected areas (~180km sq each), 2) some of these hyenas are likely trying to disperse and failing due to linear barriers, resulting in some fascinating and unusual behavior, and 3) the Lake Nakuru National Park fence is currently not very effective at stopping hyena movements in and out of the park. Here’s where things get really fascinating.
Oh the places they’ll go…
Lake Nakuru National Park (LNNP) is one of only two fully-fenced national parks in Kenya (the other being the Aberdares). We’re talking a ~3 meter high, electric, parallel-wire fence. Some sections of the fence, particularly in the areas where the park directly abuts Nakuru city (one of the fastest growing cities in sub-Saharan Africa), have an extra reinforcement of woven wire extending a minimum of 1 meter underground, to prevent digging by wildlife. Like many barriers, the LNNP fence has a complex sociopolitical history. The fence was created not only to keep wildlife in the park and protect local communities from crop-raiding and livestock predation, but also to keep people out: the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) is concerned about poaching (especially of the endangered black rhinos living in the park), people gathering firewood inside the park, and other activities. KWS is trained to shoot on sight if they see any unauthorized people wandering in the park at night; when I would do night field work or travel through the park after dusk I had to warn my KWS ranger colleagues ahead of time so as not to get shot. The fence is complicated. People are grateful for its protection, yet sometimes do cut the wire to enter for resources. They illicitly graze their livestock in the perimeter (a grassy 2 meter space between 2 fences that’s technically a part of the park), yet express that as long as wildlife are blocked by the fence it’ll be fine to have large carnivores living just a stone’s throw from their homes.
As it turns out, just as the fence isn’t entirely keeping people out, it’s not keeping wildlife in either.
By walking, hiking, driving, and sometimes jogging along the entire LNNP fence several times, we discovered about 170 weak points where it was clear that wildlife were crossing in and out of the park. KWS rangers, who live in camps within the park, were integral to this effort since they see the fence every day. Using evidence such as fur and tracks (it was the rainy season the first time we did this, so, luckily for us, tracks were abundant), we chose 18 sites at which carnivores were definitely crossing. We posted camera traps (motion sensing cameras) at these stations to get a sense of the fence-crossing behaviors of carnivores and other wildlife, and monitored the cameras for a full year from June 2018-June 2019.
After the year was up, I had my work cut out for me (re-cut? was it ever not being cut…?): sorting the photos. Because most of the cameras had to be within the park facing the weak point or hole (to avoid theft outside of the park), the amount of erroneous grass photos was immense. My team of undergraduate students and I sorted through over 1 million photos, and were left with ~85,000 photos of wildlife doing all sorts of things at the fence line. I then reviewed each of the 85,000 wildlife photos (what better to do indoors on a winter day?) and assigned fence-specific behaviors to the wildlife in each photo (i.e. cross from LNNP, cross to LNNP, searching at hole, vigilant across fence, etc.). One of the first things that has become clear is that carnivores are crossing in and out of LNNP every single day. Baboons and vervet monkeys cross the fence with ease and constantly, warthogs aren’t too far behind the primates in their indifference to fences, and even large ungulates, such as cape buffalo, are also crossing the fence. Wildlife appeared at the fence line on every single camera, every single day. Final results are TBD, but it’s safe to say that the Lake Nakuru National Park fence will bring a new perspective to the current debate about whether conservation fencing is effective, economically viable, and ecologically sustainable.
Major funding for this project: National Science Foundation, National Geographic Society, Andrew & Mary Thompson Rocca Foundation
MZUNGU has followed me for my time here in Kenya and every other time I’ve lived in East Africa. It comes in the form of high-pitched screams trailing their Doppler effect through my car window as I drive past a group of schoolchildren, in the form of a deep and demanding voice accompanied by an expectant stare from a man walking by on the street, in the form of idle chat from older women twittering amongst themselves “that MZUNGU should…”, “ask the MZUNGU for…” while I’m standing right next to them understanding every word of Swahili they’re speaking (and they know it). Though it is a noun, meaning “foreigner”, or more frequently, “white person”, the word MZUNGU is so often spoken as a command. MZUNGU as a command means I never have to guess what’s coming next- “Give me a sweet.” “Give me your money.” “Give me your car.” “Give me some food.” From poor to upper middle class, young and old, almost everyone I’ve met here in East Africa has mastered the MZUNGU command and all of the stereotypes living within it.
As a POC student from a lower socioeconomic background branded MZUNGU, I face a number of unique challenges and experiences which resound with me and, frankly, exhaust me each day. Some of these are minor things: being charged double, triple, or 8x the price when buying vegetables or trying to catch a quick lift around town; having crowds of “MZUNGU”-screaming people shove their heads into the doorway to try and catch a glance of the MZUNGU while I’m getting a routine haircut; innocently complimenting someone on their bracelet and that person offering to sell it to me for an exorbitant price (happens every time!); using some Swahili in casual conversation and hearing a nearby stranger exclaim in complete shock that the MZUNGU isn’t speaking “Kizungu”, a colloquial term for English. Other things are more complicated or frustrating: having village chiefs I’ve just met refer to me as “madame” which is a sign of money, status, and higher hierarchy; as a result having my community member research participants look to me for monetary and other gifts (an expectation which not only can I not provide but also may affect my research results) unless explicitly warned ahead of time that I am just a student without extra money; having people I work with talk behind my back about how “that MZUNGU should give us her money”; having people I meet seem completely taken aback when I won’t just give them various things of mine for free (anything from writing pens to my car); strangers insisting on taking photographs with me the moment they meet me, even as I’m insisting “no”; people of all ages and backgrounds following me for blocks on the street and grabbing at my clothes and hands, either to ask me for things or simply to touch me because my skin is a lighter shade of brown; having an acquaintance insist publicly that I take everyone out and treat them to food and drinks at an expensive hotel that even I cannot in my wildest dreams afford, “because you have money of course”. Just recently I was asking a Chief if she knew of a hotel room I could stay in within the village and much to my initial confusion she burst out laughing and said “not for someone of your class” which, since we had just met 5 minutes before, was a reference simply to my skin color. Meanwhile I am in severe debt and many of these people have steady jobs and some semblance of wealth, my knowledge of which makes such interactions with these particular people seem to be a little twist of the knife.
When I ask my Kenyan friends why these things happen, the closest I’ve gotten to an explanation is that in the past, when white missionaries first flooded East Africa, they would hand out gifts and money to convince mass amounts of people to convert to Christianity and attend churches, and that largely because of this and the mainstream media, all foreigners are lumped in with white people and their history here as money-givers. Even today in Kenya, while a regular foreign work permit costs a person thousands of dollars per year, a missionary permit is a mere $50 per year. The MZUNGU is seen and taught to children not only as a source of ever-flowing money, but also a status symbol- hence the insistence on photos. In the words of so many people I’ve met, “The way people see it, the MZUNGU has lots of extra money, so let me help him by taking some off his hands.” Many of my Kenyan friends have been incredulous or utterly shocked to learn about class divides and homelessness in the USA. It is just not what most people learn about us.
My being a POC makes these MZUNGU interactions hold more weight over me than I presume they would otherwise. In the USA, my birthplace and home, I also stand out. Being called “exotic” by white people, having them touch my curly hair without asking, and having people cock their heads and gaze curiously while asking that awful question – “What are you?” – have always been frequent occurrences in my life at home. Growing up as Halfrican, I was never Black enough and never white enough to those around me, and thus found myself in the minority of people who frequently feel unwed to any culture or group- a philosophy which can be both eye-opening… and lonely. Being called a white person (implicitly, via “MZUNGU“, and explicitly, via “you and those other whites…” or “you whites really like…”) while possessing an ethnic history and emotional self-perception of non-whiteness, and having gone through (and still going through) a journey of otherness as a mixed person, instills in me a defiance and an exhaustion with yet again being labeled “other”. It robs me, just a little, of the utter joy I feel whenever I first re-arrive in East Africa and am refreshingly in a country dominated by Blackness. For many people that I meet, I cannot first be seen as a person. I am first seen as an other, and simultaneously as a basket of money, walking on two legs. Rather than having a simple and natural first interaction, I must steel myself, stay calm, and immediately begin the subtle work of undoing the person’s perceptions of me. I do this work- deftly countering the MZUNGUs and the “madame”s with my name (I have a name!) and my story- because only then can I be seen without the MZUNGU filter, and begin a meaningful relationship with that person. When I’m not completely exhausted, I maintain my humor about these situations by making MZUNGU into little jokes with myself- such as saying in Swahili to MZUNGU-screaming kids: “Where is he? I don’t see him!?”, or in response to “Give me sweets!”: “Oh, you’re going to give me sweets? That’s so nice, thank you!” – then there is laughter and for a moment MZUNGU doesn’t seem like such a heavy weight.
By this time you’ve probably noticed my textual portrayal of the word MZUNGU in this post. The way I’ve written it here is the way it feels to me each day, whether it is shouted, snickered, whispered, or implied. It is almost always present, knocking on the back of my eyes like a bright light shined directly in.
I sometimes wonder what a country of fellow Halfricans would be like- would I finally lose my feeling of otherness? Would this just be because we’ve all shared these same experiences at home and when traveling to places we initially and mistakenly think we might feel more belonging? I don’t know. What I do know is that my East African friends and I are doing the quiet work of breaking down these walls, and for that I am grateful. My blessings while living here far exceed the emotional weight and exhaustion I sometimes carry from interactions with people who hold preconceptions. Though I will never know where my enslaved ancestors arrived from so long ago, for so many reasons Kenya will always feel like a home to me.
For the past three months, I’ve been what I can only assume is the definition of a multidisciplinary researcher: super busy. With the addition of a whirlwind two month visit from one of my favorite people on the planet, this blog has become almost as dusty as my hair after driving for 5 minutes in the bush (actually nothing will ever be as dusty as the roads here, but I digress). Here’s a quick-ish update:
For the past few months I’ve had camera traps up on parts of the Lake Nakuru National Park fence to try and gain a better understanding of how often carnivores are crossing the fence into the community lands and other areas. The answer so far: nearly every day. Although carnivores such as spotted and striped hyenas, black backed jackals, civets, and many more are crossing the fence, various other species are trying their darnedest to get across as well. Every evening there are buffaloes sniffing at the holes going under the fence, presumably wondering “maybe tonight I’ll fit under there” (nope, you won’t.), and frequently staring across at each other from either side of the fence (longingly, if I’m allowed to anthropomorphize a little bit). The animals that do make it under the fence are on par with some of the best yoga gurus I’ve ever seen, contorting their bodies into odd and flexible shapes to squeeze into the small space below the bottom wire (not electrified) while avoiding the electrified wires above. You may wonder, how are these animals getting through a formidable electric fence? It appears warthogs and other wildlife are constantly digging new holes, and the fence maintenance workers are hard at work blocking the holes every day- seems like a tough job in a park entirely encompassed by a fence!
This part of the work has led to some interesting field experiences as well. One day, I was checking the camera traps and found one of them completely destroyed. Assuming humans were responsible, I took a quick look through the photos. Much to my surprise, the culprit was actually a particularly vindictive southern ground hornbill! According to the photos, he went at it for about 30 minutes and then, finally satisfied with his work, he was on his way. Somehow, the camera’s capabilities survived the attack, albeit now with pink daytime photos.
Hopefully these small fence-crossing analyses, along with the conflict mapping, hyena movement tracking, and participatory mapping, can lead to a better understanding of whether and how “conservation fencing” can be successful given that it may be a major direction for conservation in the future.
Mapping and a meal
My team and I have also been working hard to meet as many community members as possible and involve them in participatory mapping and interview sessions to better understand their experiences with human-carnivore conflict, their risk perceptions, and the resources and places they feel are important in their landscapes. In these sessions, community members participate in interviews one-on-one and then come together as a group for the mapping, while also enjoying chai and a hearty breakfast. As representatives of their communities’ experiences, things get lively and people have been enthusiastic to share their stories. Maps hold enormous power, and building them from the ground up can be one way to positively influence management by including the spatial perspectives of communities and elevating their voices.
I’ve left out a lot of things- such as the work we’ve been doing with IDing individual hyenas, creating ID sheets for them (you can tell spotted hyenas apart by their spot patterns), land cover mapping, and fence mapping, but that’ll be for a future post. As we wait for Kenya’s (quite untimely for me!) blanket ban on wildlife darting to be lifted so we can place our GPS collars on hyenas, we are trying to pack in as much community work and hyena tracking as possible. In camp life, I found out few months ago (using a camera trap near my camp) that Soysambu not only had three 1-month-old brand new lion cubs, but that they had likely been born in my camp and I had been unknowingly walking past them (and mama) every day! So between work and general day-to-day, life here in the bush, as usual, has been a generally satisfying mix of fascinating and difficult. The work is chugging along steadily, we’re trying to remain flexible in spite of major roadblocks, and I still have the dream of making it home before Christmas- we’ll see!
Field work has been in full swing since I last wrote. Last week, along with my students, I worked to finish the fence assessment and put up all of the camera traps. Unfortunately, we didn’t quite finish for several reasons: First, because the fence around the park is a lot longer than you would think, considering Lake Nakuru National Park is a mere 173 square km; Second, because the road around the inside of the fence is impassable in many places. My newfound manual driving skills were put to the test, with multiple obstacles, such as huge holes, bushes, volcanic rocks hidden in the grass, and, of course, the mud. On Monday, we got stuck for what is likely going to be the first of many times over the course of my fieldwork. It took us an hour of building our own “road” out of dead branches, pushing the car, and mud flying everywhere for us to work our way out- I was very proud of our teamwork!
We have about 1/3 of the fence left to assess, and have already discovered a multitude of weak spots with signs of animals crossing. Also, likely because of funding issues, some areas of the fence are not currently electrified although it is supposed to be a fully electric fence. As we put up the cameras, it has been a great experience to try to teach the rangers and KWS staff about camera trap placement and set-up. All of the rangers we’ve met so far have been very accommodating, and our brief moments of rest are often filled with relaxation and copious canned fruit and army rations.
Adventures in Nairobi
Last Wednesday morning, I headed to Nairobi to participate in a two day meeting at Kenya Wildlife Service HQ to brainstorm the new 5-year national strategy for lions and spotted hyena. It was a lucky turn of events that led me to be in a room of about 40 lion and spotted hyena researchers, conservation biologists, and KWS wardens and executives, to discuss the future of KWS policy and action concerning these two species. Along with talking with many people who I’ve long wanted to meet, we had several small group activities in which we brainstormed conservation priorities and challenges for lions and spotted hyenas, and tried to decide how to democratically weave our ideas into the new strategy.
On Friday, I had a “free day” to go and check out a potential field vehicle I had been hearing about- being sold by a friend of a friend named Bali. Luckily, my colleagues Nina and Kat were with me, and Nina was able to test drive the car for me in Nairobi since I don’t yet trust myself to drive in a city with so few traffic rules. The car seemed like a good fit – small but formidable for off-road driving, which I’ll be doing a lot of during my field work. SO I’m currently in the process of purchasing my very first car! Exciting, and a little scary!
My first hyena darting
Lastly, the biggest event of my week: since Friday, I’ve been staying with the Mara Hyena Project in the Maasai Mara National Reserve, whose founder, Dr. Kay Holekamp, has graciously welcomed me to be trained on various protocols that I intend to adapt for my
own research on spotted hyenas. Particularly I’ve been getting trained on dart preparation and darting by Benson, a long-time Kenyan research assistant here who is likely the best hyena darter in the country or maybe even the world. After a few days of rain scares and of unsuccessfully searching for the perfect darting candidate (ie. one that 1) hasn’t been darted before, 2) isn’t near other hyenas since we don’t want others to see us and become frightened of us, 3) isn’t near dangerous animals or bushes or water or tourists), this morning we finally found an eligible hyena and successfully darted him. After darting TIQ (a young male whose full name is Tawfiq after a location in nearby Talek town), it was important to freeze and remain completely silent so he wouldn’t associate the dart’s “bite” with our car or us. Once he went down, we were very quiet and worked quickly to conduct the protocol: first cover his eyes, then collect blood samples, several swabs (anal, nasal, paste, etc.), saliva, hair etc., check for injuries, wounds, and parasites, conduct numerous body and dental measurements and take his weight. Finally, we put him in our car and transported him to a safe place for recovery. Later this evening we will check on him to assure he has recovered successfully.
The darting experience was a landmark in my field work and an excellent learning experience, since I am intending to dart and outfit spotted hyenas in my study area with GPS-GSM collars. I felt it was my responsibility to learn proper protocols for the safety of the hyenas involved, as well as the best ways to allow my hyenas to still be observable and unbothered by my approach for behavioral observations later on. Many thanks the Mara Hyena Project for hosting me! Now onward, to my own hyena research.
After a year (or more?!) of applying for numerous permits and grants, playing in the Bart station for extra research money, fine-tuning methodologies, and going through human subjects and animal care and use protocols, my dissertation field work has finally begun. I feel like I could write an entire blog post about the preparation process and bureaucracies involved, but that would have an extremely limited audience (students trying to do wildlife research in Kenya?), so I’ll focus on the exciting stuff and bore folks another time.
The past 12 days have been a whirlwind. After disembarking in Nairobi from 26 hours of flying, and 36+ hours of no sleep, I went straight to Savannah Tracking Ltd, the company that has been designing the collars I intend to outfit on spotted hyena in the coming weeks. Although I was exhausted, I chugged a ton of coffee and spent 2 hours getting trained up on the proprietary software system they use for managing their collars. My excitement about seeing my nearly finished collars hanging in the shop contributed to my ability to stay awake for the training, and somehow I ended up in an hour-long deeply philosophical conversation with Daniel, who was training me on the collar software. Just goes to show I’m not ever one for small talk.
Logistics planning started immediately the day after I arrived on Soysambu Conservancy. I learned how to drive stick shift in about 2 hours in a huge Range Rover, from Nina, a researcher here who is graciously letting me borrow her car while I search out my own.
The best way to learn is to just do it, and I’ve already logged over 35 hours of driving manual in this behemoth in just one week! Additionally, I worked and sweated with Nina and two new friends I’ve made, Dennis and Sora, to clean out and organize a sweet little cottage here in Nina’s camp that otherwise was being used as storage – and which has started to become my new home.
I’ve met a number of people in the past week with whom I’ll be working directly or indirectly, including Soysambu conservancy and livestock staff, Kenya Wildlife Service science and community staff and rangers, various community members, and of course the two Kenyan master’s students from Egerton University who have signed on to my project: Gerald and Christine. In the hopes of doing participatory research properly, it’s extremely important to me to train and build up these students and also to communicate consistently with the communities in which we work, thus assuring we’re at least trying to actively listen and be helpful in the work we’re doing.
Going into Lake Nakuru National Park for the first time as a researcher rather than a visitor was quite the experience. The power of the single, unassuming piece of paper that is my research permit is amazing, and my passage through the park has been more than facilitated. Luckily, my only struggle has been keeping track of the names of all of the folks I’ve met during my travels there. On Monday, I spent 12 grueling hours driving off-road (and occasionally walking) around the perimeter of the park with a KWS scientist and ranger, mapping weak points of the fence and putting up camera traps to see which carnivores are crossing to and from the community lands. Lake Nakuru National Park is fully electrically fenced, yet there are many weak points in the fence due to rivers and flooding, as well as due to the lowest electric wire not being live, so animals dig under it easily. During our assessment, I even saw a grazing goat from the community shimmy it’s way under the fence from the national park back to the community lands. There were several areas where the road was completely underwater, so the plan is to take a couple of rangers and hike through the bush to assess the remainder of the fence and complete the camera trap placement this and next week.
This week, I’ve also begun verifying land cover on Soysambu, and teaching my student Gerald how to conduct prey density transects since that is going to be a part of his thesis. I’ve spent much of my time training Gerald and Christine on various field techniques and some of the participatory methods we’re going to use, even as I continue to decide on and train myself on certain aspects of my methodology- thus it has been quite the whirlwind! However, I’m very excited about the students. Their professors have asked me to challenge them and make them work hard, get dirty, and gain field skills. I’ve already noticed they don’t even have sturdy bush shoes or backpacks and Christine has even showed up to field days in designer jeans (!), so we have our work cut out for us…
Lastly, today my hyena collars finally arrived! I am so grateful for my grants and for various crowdfund donors I’ve had who have led me to be able to have these collars custom-designed for my work. Hopefully I will outfit 8-15 hyenas by mid-July, and start to see where they’re moving throughout these different management zones and through the community.
It is amazing what a lot of hard work and openness to opportunity will do for you if you keep at it. When thinking about my journey in preparing for this research, I’m reminded of Amanda Palmer’s book “The Art of Asking”, which inspired me to lose my fear of being vulnerable and instead ask for help and guidance when I need it. Hopefully this principle will continue to guide me as I step out of so many comfort zones and dive more deeply into this learning experience. Stay tuned!
Since my time here in Tanzania is almost at an end, I figure it’s about time I write a post about what exactly I’ve been up to this whole time. A large chunk of my work here boils down to conducting a survey on the social implications of a human-wildlife conflict intervention. But there’s a lot more complexity behind the curtain.
Many of you may know that I work on human-wildlife conflict, and feel passionate about interdisciplinary approaches as being the most effective for alleviating conservation issues. Yet, as someone with a background in ecology, conservation biology, and animal behavior, I decided to take a detour from my dissertation research to participate in a summer practicum with the Northern Tanzania Rangelands Initiative (NTRI), and gain more field experience with social science. In particular, I have been working with Tanzania People & Wildlife (TPW) to try and understand the social impacts of their successful (99.9% of reduction in wildlife attacks on livestock) human-wildlife conflict intervention: the Living Walls. The Living Walls consist of planted Commiphora trees surrounded by chain link fence. They act as a much more effective alternative to traditional livestock enclosures, or bomas, and are a community-co-created and environmentally-friendly solution to livestock being attacked by wild carnivores.
Although there are many effective interventions for resolving human-wildlife conflict, very rarely do we attempt to measure the impacts of human-wildlife conflict resolution on human health, economic factors, and gender dynamics. TPW’s Living Walls intervention provides us with an ideal and unique opportunity to assess such social impacts. However, particularly if there is no baseline pre-intervention data on social factors, this is much easier said than done…
Challenge 1: Creating the Survey
In March, my colleague, Steven (from the University of Dar es Salaam), and I set out to figure out how we might develop a survey that would be able to get at the social impacts (if any!) of the Living Walls, as well as the effects of the Living Walls on pastoralist tolerance for wildlife. For about 3.5 months, I took the lead on creating the survey, and it subsequently underwent countless revisions from multiple TPW and other NTRI staff. In order to design a survey that would be effective, incorporate social/health/gender factors, and not waste many peoples’ time, we were tasked with philosophizing about and answering difficult (and sometimes unexpected) questions such as: How can we measure impact without having baseline data? What is the difference between tolerance and attitudes toward wildlife, and which of these is more feasible to study? What counts as a “household” in Maasai-land (where families and friends may live together in the same boma)? … And countless other conceptual and logistical questions. Even before I arrived in Tanzania, devising the survey was teaching me more about the deep and complex levels of thinking needed for social science research, particularly social science research among different cultures and landscapes.
Challenge 2: Translation and Finalizing
Once we arrived at TPW’s headquarters – Noloholo Environmental Center on the border of Tarangire National Park -, and completed multiple survey conceptualization meetings with the co-directors of TPW, Laly Lichtenfeld and Charles Trout, our next step was to finalize the survey and translate it into Kiswahili and Kimaasai. Our plan was to translate the survey from English to Kiswahili to Kimaasai, and then back-translate all the way back to English, to ensure the meanings of the questions were not lost. For translation and back-translation, it is crucial to have different people perform each step, and ideally those will be people who are not at all involved in the survey design. Finding bi- and trilingual people at Noloholo wasn’t difficult, but they all had existing busy schedules and our survey was pushing an hour in length. Nevertheless, we somehow managed to translate, back-translate, and pre-test the survey at camp within the span of a few days. After “trimming the fat” from the survey to bring it under 1 hour in length, we were finally ready to create our sampling plan, find field assistants, and do some field pre-testing.
Challenge 3: Creating a Sampling Plan and Understanding Gender
Because there was no baseline for health, social, and gender factors at Living Wall bomas before they had Living Walls, it was necessary for us to sample bomas without Living Walls as well – which we termed “Non-Living Wall (NLW) bomas”. To attempt to get at the differences, we decided on a paired sampling plan consisting of a Living Wall boma and the closest NLW boma.
We also felt it was important to be able to discern gender differences in survey responses. For instance, women have completely different household roles than men; women may gather and transport wood to fix the boma, take care of the household chores, sell excess cow’s milk at the market and thus have their own money, etc., not to mention the underlying gender power dynamics within each household. So having a Living Wall (due to boma maintenance time saved, fewer livestock lost to wildlife attacks, etc.), is likely to affect women differently than men. But how to quantify these differences in a largely patriarchal culture? The men of the household are more likely to volunteer for the survey, and even if a woman happens to volunteer, it is likely she would have her husband standing over her as she answers the questions – which, of course, would affect her answers. Thus, we came up with an excellent solution: At each boma, interview a man and a woman at the same time, separately from each other, and use a female field assistant for the women’s interviews. Although our boma sample size would be cut down (from 200 bomas to 140 due to time constraints), we would have true gender representation from all of the bomas. Now, we just had to find a male field assistant and a female field assistant.
Challenge 4: Politics and Field Assistants
With the help of the staff and community members, it wasn’t too hard to find field assistants who were bi- or trilingual, literate, and knew how to use a smartphone (for the survey app). We invited our two new field assistants, Edward and Rebecca, to Noloholo for training on survey implementation before heading out for a day of pre-testing in the field. However, before doing any work in our two villages, Loibor Siret and Narakauwo, it was crucial to meet with the mwenyekiti (chairperson) for each village, to get approval and make them aware of what we intended to do. Especially as a foreigner (called mzungu here), I’ve always found that you never know what to expect when talking to local political forces, so, as usual, I was somewhat wary of these meetings. Yet, even with tumultuous politics happening in Narakauwo, this process went surprisingly smoothly. We were then in the clear to field test the survey with Edward and Rebecca.
The field testing turned out to be very necessary and very productive. Steven and I had a chance to see how the field assistants performed in a real survey situation, and we were able to give them feedback on various aspects of their technique: how to avoid probing (and instead ask the question exactly as it is written), how to work through logistical issues with the phones and with Open Data Kit app, and (specifically for Rebecca) to make sure that women interviewees were answering the questions with information about themselves, rather than about their husbands. After some more practice, and several revisions to the survey resulting from the pre-test findings, we were ready to begin the survey in earnest.
Challenge 5: Getting Around
So, we were ready to go, but there were a few issues. For one, how should we find the Living Wall bomas that are in our random sample? We had GPS points, yes, but we luckily also had the names of the boma owners, which proved to be much more useful. By enlisting the chairman of each sub-village (or their designee) within Narakauwo and Loibor Siret, we were able to easily contact boma owners ahead of time, and find their respective bomas, since the sub-village chairmen know everybody in their sub-village, and know where each person lives. Rather than enlisting more field assistants, we used our budget to pay these chairmen and their designees for each day that they rode with the team and helped find people for the survey. Additionally, although we had originally chosen our paired NLW bomas using high-resolution satellite imagery, we found that it was easier to simply go to the closest NLW boma for each Living Wall boma that we surveyed, and give them a heads up that the team would be coming by the next day to conduct the survey. These two elegant solutions helped immensely, given our small time frame for getting the survey done.
Additionally, we got extremely lucky that we had access to one of TPW’s vehicles for every day we had scheduled for the survey. We had a decent chunk of funds designated for paying for vehicles (normally $150-200/day to rent a vehicle (!), yet TPW gave us a nice discount since we were working on a project relevant to them), but the organization has many projects and we weren’t guaranteed vehicle availability each day. Simply traveling around the bush, over rough roads with plenty of opportunity for flat tires and other vehicle malfunctions, is taxing for both the drivers and the cars, and our survey involved traveling from 7:30am-6:30pm, 6 days a week. Transportation isn’t something to take lightly here in the bush, and I tried to show some extra gratitude by purchasing small gifts for our helpful drivers.
This past Saturday was the last day of the survey, after about one rapidly-paced month. We met our sampling goal, employed some great folks as field assistants, and collected a ton of data. It felt amazing to see the survey to completion after months of preparation, and now we get to start our analyses before presenting preliminary results to TPW and to the rest of NTRI at The Nature Conservancy headquarters in Arusha on Monday! We’ve done many more things here, which can be saved for a later blog post, but one thing I’ve learned for sure: There is a lot more complexity than meets the eye behind implementing a survey- especially a survey that tries to discern the connections between human-wildlife conflict resolution and social factors, and especially a survey conducted in a different culture, in multiple languages, in the bush.
Since I left for Tanzania on May 26th, I have had one hot shower, which was also my only shower in the past month in which I’ve used more than 1.3 gallons of water.
Here at Noloholo Environmental Center, which is Tanzania People & Wildlife’s (TPW) headquarters in the Simanjiro District, water is scarce. The region is experiencing an ongoing, uncharacteristic, likely climate change-induced drought, and the effects are immensely noticeable everywhere you look. Most, if not all, of the people living in nearby villages are pastoralists, and almost everyone has lost many cows, sheep, goats, and donkeys due to lack of water and graze for their livestock. This year, the spring rainy season (normally 2-3 months long) never came. Unlike many places in the Western world, water availability and use is, by extreme necessity, at the forefront of everyone’s minds here.
Because Noloholo is an integrated part of this community and landscape, and gets much of its water from the closest village (Loibor Siret, a 30 minute drive away over rough road), here at the camp, shower and laundry water is only available from 7:00-7:15am.
Each person is allotted a 10-liter bucket that they can fill up, and for those 15 minutes, water flow is literally unlocked by one of the Maasai staff up the hill by the office, and allowed to pass through two spigots near the staff housing. By 7:15, the flow has been locked until the next morning. There have been many mornings when I wanted to sleep in but instead got up before 7am because I knew I needed to take advantage of the “water time window” to shower or to wash the ubiquitous dust from my clothes later in the day. Water collection in this way now feels routine, and is a great way to say good morning to some of the other staff who are also gathered around the spigot bright and early.
My outdoor shower, which I currently share with two other people, consists of a bucket with a shower head sticking out of the bottom. To me, it feels luxurious for a bush shower. In the past, I’ve taken cup-and-bucket showers- using a cup or empty jar to pour the clean water over my body and hair, so to have something resembling a hands-free shower is exciting. Even with the occasionally numbing breeze, its beautiful to shower with birds singing overhead, or (when taking a night shower) with the stunning Milky Way giving me perspective and reminding me that cold showers aren’t so bad. Plus, if I’m able to leave my bucket out until the afternoon, the water gets relatively warm in the equatorial sunlight, and warmish showers are possible!
Okay, back to my PSA. Despite this small water allotment, I’ve come to notice that I consistently only need half of my bucket- 5 liters (about 1.3 gallons) of water – for my showers. And yes, I am able to be completely clean when I shower with that amount of water- even with the pervasive dry-season red dust that penetrates every pore daily. Considering that the average American shower uses 17.2 gallons of water and showerheads have a flow rate of 2.5 gallons per minute, you may be wondering how it’s possible for me to use so little water. Well, for me the key has been turning the shower off when I’m not using it- for example, when I’m soaping up, shampooing my hair, or shaving. My 1.3 gallons per shower translates into 19.5 gallons per month considering I only shower about every other day. Compare that to how many Americans (even me when I’m home- I am not above this!) shower daily and will use upward of 500 gallons/month for showering.
We can do better. Although I’ve spent a lot of time in the bush taking various versions of bush showers, it is only now that I have taken a moment to calculate how much water I really need for my showers. As someone who loves a good long hot shower myself, I hope I can improve the way I approach my showers at home. But, I know behavioral change is hard, especially when we’re talking about our creature comforts. So, if you’re not down for quitting long showers cold-turkey in favor of the “military shower”, why not purchase an efficient shower head, or a thermostatic shut-off valve, and challenge yourself to shorten your showers by a few minutes? Freshwater scarcity is on peoples’ minds here in the savanna, but it should be on everyone’s minds: the world is running out of freshwater,and climate change is only exacerbating the issue. This should be obvious, but freshwater is our lifeline- from agriculture to drinking water- and freshwater shortages around the world are linked deep unrest, war, and of course death. Because we don’t have to walk miles to a borehole for our water, it can be difficult for us to connect with water shortage as a possibility, but Americans need to step up their water-consciousness before it’s too late. Making a few small changes to our shower routines is just one way to contribute!
The Maasai people constitute one of the major ethnic groups living in Kenya and Tanzania. Having a pastoralist lifestyle, the Maasai rely heavily on their cattle, sheep, and goats for sustenance, and thus livestock are a Maasai family’s most valuable asset. You may have heard of the Maasai – among many other things, they are known for their ability to jump to impressive heights, and the ceremonial lion hunts (olamayio) historically conducted by young Maasai warriors as a rite of passage. Yet today, we have more and more Maasai like my friend, Nickson Parmisa, a Maasai chief in the Kitengela area, who loves lions and has devoted his life to conservation. Being a chief, Nickson has played an invaluable role in influencing his community’s approaches to conservation. I sat down with Nickson to hear his thoughts about the future of Nairobi National Park and the Kitengela dispersal area.
As a lifelong resident of the Kitengela dispersal area, what are your thoughts on threats to this area and to the national park?
Since the national park was originally gazetted, it has been repeatedly reduced. Along with the controversial railway, there is already a highway bypass that has cut through the edge of the park, and an above-ground oil pipeline currently in construction through the park. The Kitengela region was historically declared a conservation area, but after Independence, the government failed to create legislation to protect the land from subdivision and development. Kitengela’s proximity to the city also subjects it more acutely to development pressures. The Namanga Road, a highway heading south from Nairobi, has significantly contributed to development by making this prime land more accessible, attracting many land speculators. (Authors note: While driving on the Namanga Road, I’ve passed countless “Plots for Sale” signs). Since Kitengela is considered to be essentially a part of Nairobi, but with cheaper prices, many people travel here to live and develop businesses. It doesn’t help that NEMA (the National Environmental Management Authority) has failed to protect the land, allowing previously pastoral or agricultural land to be fenced or converted to quarries, and that many government policies in this area are enacted without community input.
What do you think is the future of Nairobi National Park and the Kitengela wildlife dispersal area?
There is hope. People’s perceptions are changing. In the past, people used to see wildlife as a liability or burden, but now many people are seeing wildlife as a resource.
Wow, what’s causing such a big shift?
There have been numerous non-profit programs to try and empower and incentivize this community to allow wildlife free passage on their land. One example is the lease program, which was started by Friends of Nairobi National Park (FoNNAP), and continued by The Wildlife Foundation (TWF). The lease program paid community members to not fence their land, allowing livestock and wildlife to roam freely. As a bonus, the payments coincided with the school opening dates, so the money often went straight to school fees and contributed to many more children going to school. However, the program ended in 2014 due to funding issues, and many fences started going up. People would still be receptive to the lease program if it were funded again, so any potential donors are welcome to contact TWF.
There was also a consolation program, run by FoNNAP, which gave people a small amount of money whenever they lost livestock due to depredation. Additionally, in 2014 the government enacted a human-wildlife bill, which will give compensation when people or livestock are killed by wildlife. However, the compensation program has been slow to go into action. Its true that attitudes are shifting, but money speaks, and if these incentivizing programs are run well, people in this area will be able to coexist with wildlife even more peacefully.
Last, the Nairobi National Park Conservancy is an exciting new initiative south of the park. It consists of a group of landowners who own land bordering the national park, and would like to create a conservancy out of their land. I am part of this conservancy, and with TWF we are working on various funding plans. However, the fact that several landowners want to be part of this conservancy is a good sign of changing feelings toward wildlife.
So it sounds like there is hope, but lots of hurdles as well. Any last thoughts?
Wildlife numbers have increased in this area. Kitengela has become a calving zone, which hasn’t happened in many years. Along with inside the park, wildlife used to give birth in the 2nd Triangle, an area nearby, yet now wildebeest are calving all around the Kitengela region. This is a good indication that people may be doing land use practices that will conserve habitat and bring wildlife back. We will have to keep thinking creatively, but so far the positive signs are there.
I’ve lived in East Africa three different times, for a total of a little less than 2 years, and for all that time I’ve been actively, and successfully, avoiding buffalo. Anyone who has visited or lived here knows that the cape buffalo is the most dangerous animal in Africa. Sometimes referred to as “Black Death” or “The Widowmaker”, the cape buffalo is basically a 6 foot tall, 1700 pound, temperamental, unpredictable cow that (surprisingly for its size) can sprint at speeds up to 35 mph if provoked. Over 200 people per year are gored and killed by cape buffalo. So it’s hardly a surprise that I have put considerable effort into avoiding these animals during my time here. But, as they say, you attract what you resist.
This morning, after spending awhile bird-watching from a rock I’ve been calling “lion rock”, due to its frequent nightly visitors, I headed to a tree a few feet away to check my camera trap and then walk back up to Nickson’s house. I looked through some of the photos, secured the camera to the tree, and slowly stood up, only to find myself face to face with a massive cape buffalo standing 10 feet from me.
For about half a second, we both silently froze. Clearly we had surprised each other. Almost immediately, the buffalo broke the silence by aggressively snorting and swinging its head in my direction. This was not good. Heart racing, I reacted with all of the knowledge that’s been engrained in me since my first day here: Don’t run, the buffalo can run faster; Don’t put open ground between you and the buffalo- again, it can run faster; If you can, climb a tree (although buffalos have been known to run up or trample trees in pursuit).
I had to think quickly. There was one tiny shrub and one 2-foot tree between me and the “Black Death”, and hardly a tall tree to be seen nearby. Since the buffalo was blocking my path to the house, I decided to take my chances and go in the opposite direction, toward the national park. There was a serious risk of there being more buffalo in that direction, as buffalo move in herds, but there was nothing else I could do. Of course, all of these thoughts and decisions happened in less than 2 seconds, as this aggressive animal was staring me down. I slowly stepped backward, to half-obscure myself behind a taller shrub, simultaneously keeping my eye on the buffalo, looking for a direction with the thickest shrubs to hide behind, and searching the landscape for the rest of the buffalo herd. Some part of me stupidly secured my belongings to my body (as if they mattered), getting ready to run if I had to. My heart racing, I moved from shrub to shrub as subtly and quickly as I could, noting the potential refuge trees in the area. As I moved it occurred to me that they say, “climb a tree to escape”, but fail to mention the 3 inch long, razor sharp thorns covering every tree in the area.
Sliding from bush to bush, I made a wide arc toward the national park, and then cut through a large zebra herd going back toward the house through an open field. All of this took less than 5 minutes. My heart pounding out of my throat, I looked back in the direction I came from, part of me wondering whether I had imagined the entire thing. But no, deep in the bush, a glimpse of a black tail swinging, and the sharp tip of a dark grey horn.