What do you know of poaching?

Something that happened in Victorian England on an estate in Scotland and involved the blighter being fined and told to never step foot on your land again.  Or something like that and according to John Buchan’s novel John Macnab it required all sorts of cunning and skill. 

I am now familiar with poachers and poaching but in a different context a reserve in Northern Mozambique far from Scotland or a pond on Clapham Common plundered by night for carp. 

I know what a rice sack that is full of dried carcasses looks like and how the smell of rotten meat lingers on the wind and catches the back of your throat - the familiar smell of rotten guineafowl, rock hyrax, baboon, suni, bush buck and then occasionally the mighty sable or kudu, who horns poke through the rice sacks.

I also know what poachers look like, they look like everyone else but are wearing worn clothes with tired weather beaten faces full of anxiety and hungry anticipation. 

And I am very familiar with the tools of their trade – snares made from all manner of wire repurposed from all sorts of sources (electric cables, fences , the small area of new elephant fencing etc.), bow and arrows, large nets with string made from rice sacks and beautifully wrought spears used with scrawny bush dogs - though this method is employed by Makondas not the local muslim tribe Machua.

But here the realities of poaching are infinitely basic yet complex beyond belief.  Simple thirst for lean protein and a complex mesh of cultural norms and global concerns.  Within an of National Park -‘protected’ with scant resources and against a tide of pressures – where the appeal of bush meat, ivory and timber far out ways any conservation ideals.

The poachers are kept at bay by our small band of local Rangers.  Without Dominik the passionate Reserve Manager these rangers fall into lethargy, but can you blame them?  The poachers are their friends, cousins and neighbours...

So how do you prevent poaching while goats and chicken cost so much more and will never taste of the bush and your homelands?

An exasperating patch – police station and unhappy Swiss visitors but all cheered up by ... biology in action

A day in Pemba...

1:  Called to Metuge Police Station – Metuge is where the district offices are and a 1 ½ hour drive from Pemba down a particularly dusty bumpy road.  D recently finally persuaded a goup of farmers who were cultivating in the heart of Mareja to move on – with the usual incentive, money.  And one of these farmers has seen the opportunity for delay and more money.    We waited 4 hours for the Police chief to come back from other more pressing meeting. However, thankfully he saw the empty content of the farmers case.

2: While hanging out in Metuge (in the sweltering heat in the Toyota) we bump into Jacob who has come to see the Administrator over some landright worry.  Jacob runs Tarateebo, the other successful conservation project within the park and he tells us of automatic guns being used on his reserve by poachers.  Four elephants injured recently and he tracked them to find them in a terrible state.  Obviously this is a disaster as it creates yet more human-animal conflict; elephants in pain are potentially very dangerous.   

There is now no doubt elephant poaching has increased dramatically recently in the Park – D thinks 60% of the local population have been killed.

3: While here we are asked to meet the new Administrator too, a woman Elena and the Director of Agriculture.  Another long wait and then we are ushered into a office with the usual large picture of the President Geubuza hanging prominently and a few lever-arch folders on a high shelf, with large efficient looking labelling.  Mobile phones go  off constantly throughout the meeting and have the loudest and most exotic ring tones - and they are always answered.  In between calls, they lay a bevy of complaints at D’s feet, I sit there as the smiling wife but understand enough of the tone and fragmented conversation to get silently agitated.  Apart from many complaints from a community called Pulou which is far from Mareja...as D gentally points out - they want to see all the documents relating to Mareja’s operation – its community association, reserve status, tourism license etc.  This is highly disheartening, are they trying to make trouble or is just another case of administrative oversight. They have asked for these documents 4 times from Dominik.  When questioned where the papers supplied before might be they look blankly, pause, do not answer and change the subject.  So we wil have to resupply it all again by the end of the month...

Following day...in Pemba we pick up an email from a tour company who are sending a Swiss couple to Mareja tonight.  They had not received confirmation – once again a product of no email communication in Mareja and Mcel’s unpredictable ways.  We text the driver to say we will be there at night fall but the community will sort rooms etc.  The project is run hand-in-hand with the community and on such occasions Adamo and Maria will make the beds, Naquata light the paraffin lamps and make a fire.

We set off after lunch with all manner of stores and fresh food and arrive just after dark.  (The sun sets around 5.30pm at the moment.)

The driver William greets us and says his clients are ‘very very unhappy – they were obviously not expected, are hungry and...want bottled water ‘ not our filtered rain water – all we have.

I instantly run into the kitchen with two lanterns and begin hurriedly cooking supper.  Then hear shouting as D presents himself – they are yelling in german.  I keep on cooking thrilled to be tucked away in the dark of the kitchen.  I make snacks as a way to pick up glucose levels – with the prized oil, fresh bread and tomatoes – and offer them to D, I am happy to avoid our guests for as long as possible. 

Then supper is presented (spaghetti with mushroom, bacon, herb cream sauce and a luxurious large fruit salad) and I meet them, am hot and tired now – they are more elderly than I had imagined.  On meeting me they complain about lack of signage, to which I explain that we can’t install obvious signs – there is a key landmark, three white stripes on a tree.  Signs would attract all sorts of extra and possibly unwanted attention -  and we hope to provide directions but if you ask locals everyone knows where ‘Mareja and Dominque’ is.  This is a strange fact no doubt signage is generally seen as an essential thing.  Anyway after much effort to cheer , they warm up and we hear of their epic tour across Tanzania, Malawi and Mozambique with William their driver. – and much wildlife spotted.   

The next day they are off to Ilha de Mozambique but have time for an activity in the morning.  I suggest the mountain, an easy walk and spectacular view to lift the heart.  D as always suggests an early rise and game walk...they will decide in the morning.  We listen to lion on the veranda and go to bed happy.

A civilised... 5.15am rise and coffee, and they apparently choose a 1 hour walk along the river (I stay in bed) D drops them off.  Well 2 hours later they arrive back...furious – rangers just charged ahead...they saw nothing and nothing was illuminated by the guides – no tracks, birds, points of interest.  ‘And explain you are not ready to welcome tourists!’  Oh how dispiriting, three rangers went, including the Head Ranger Ali accompanied them who has 10 years experience and was trained at Gorongoza – where they tired or distracted or was there a communication barrier or what?  My mind spins - and I tell D (unhelpfully) that they should have gone up the mountain!  D tells me they need forgiveness and openness to accept a community run project like this – where the local Rangers have learnt a lot about a tourist’s perspective but will always remain worlds apart. 

I hate such failures they leave me feeling so deflated, after many hot hours over a fire and round a large table attempting merry conversation.  I retreat to the kitchen again full of woe.  Now my wish to improve spirits through food has waned but I try to find the will....scrambled eggs, bacon, baked bean mixed with aubergine and toast, fresh coffee, fresh papaya.  That should do it?  But I hear the roar of the engine they are off - keen to improve their day they head to Ilha with its guaranteed sights.  I am left holding my wooden spoon without even a goodbye.

(The blasted spoilt duck....In the midst of that while in the fridge room gathering ingredients the larger male duck decides to chomp at my white legs, very hard and twice, once on each leg– this is D’s fault for feeding them by hand in the fridge room our bread... my legs must look like large bread sticks.  It is really painful and inflames the whole situation somewhat!)

Later on....phone disaster BUT camera success

Phone problems: We made a trip to the cashew tree earlier for William to speak to his office and get money sent for petrol .  In the flurry two phones were lost.  One is retrieved by an old guy who bicycled past the tree, the other that has D’s precious sim in it... has gone.  This is my fault – I must have left them on the roof of the Toyota as we drove off.  We search with no joy.

But the camera saves the day:  one good thing happened, a very good thing....we set the camera traps by the water hole.  They were acquired and supplied by Peter (Ox University Undergraduate who led recent fantastic research expedition). They are a really exciting tool and so far when used by Peter captured Serval (Red Data Book species) and Civet plus the snout of a Bush pig.  Well....we tentatively play back our first attempt and have images of an elephant, a head shot of a medium sized male and then a very close up view of an elephant penis.  Biology in action! 

And as the day draws to a close, we remind ourselves what matters – Mareja  is providing a sanctuary for elephants at this difficult time.

It is Sunday but... pink grapefruit

Slowly wake, swim then eat an elaborate breakfast.  Half-way through they begin to clear up the buffet and so I ask quickly for an omelette and then spy the fruit bowl.  We have to buy everything for our visitors and blow it, it is Sunday.... it is ok, it is a buffet after all – so we take 2 pink grapefruit, 4 oranges, one melon and two apples one green one red.  Then we leave.  Luckily the bakery is open and we get a new canister of gas.  We track down Malcolm via Rebecca and Rudi and discover he wants to leave after midday.  That is manageable and in the end we set off to Rudi and Lesley’s place at 1ish. On arrival Malcolm and Rebecca a few rangers and one of the tourists have LEFT.  Apparently desperate to get to Mareja in time to set up the nets.  (There has been much talk of improving his Mareja experience after last year....when his vehicle broke down and 5 hours later D collected him, but apparently D had been called by Rebecca 3hours before that and only set off to find them once a helper arrived on a bicyle.  And then he fed them duck, the oldest most inedible duck ever.)  And now he has left without us, possibly not a good start.

We put Jim and Phil in the back with cushions and 2 park rangers and Bruno. Then collect lots of vegetables and some more fruit – mangoes and papaya.  We arrive at Mareja....Jim has not spoken much and seems cross or in pain or both.

Peter, the other visitor, has set up the nets and is hot hot from lots of work.  Malcolm is very grumpy – the two new rooms which I have many working parts for (tarpaulin and shower heads) are not ready and what would we have done if one of his other guest had not cancelled?  Jim who wanted a nice room goes in the ensuite and I try to ignore Malcolm’s obvious bubbling annoyance at Mareja and its antics. 

Antonio cooks a delicious supper of squid and spaghetti and we have a super luxurious fruit salad with pink grapefruit and I hope sleep will improve everyone’s mood.

WILDLIFE NOTE: bones in boxes and 3 large animals go on a walk.

I am fiddling in the kitchen and D exclaims that I should go and look at the bones Adamo has unearthed as part of renovating the ranger’s shed.  There are large dusty piles of many bones in separate plastic crates.  Kept for later study (D is good at this, he hordes everything...for later study or use in a mysterious new repurposed way).  The crates contain the skeleton of Lion, Wild dog, Leopard and bits of Sable and Bush buck.

Yesterday I picked up an interesting bone at the old encampment in the newly reclaimed machamba (farm) Maheapa  - I wrote about this wonderful place in October, if you would like it further explained see ‘Domestication v Wild’.  This bone had a double articulation like a pulley and may well be common but was quite new to me.  It is a little hard to know if these piles of bones are in the right boxes, D finds some teeth he thinks are monkey in the leopard box!  But in the large muddle of lion my eyes light on a similar joint to the one from the machamba.  Could it be that the old farmers killed a lion?

Here it is...can anyone confirm is this a lion bone?

Lion and Serval side by side

Later we take the Rangers with 3 workers, Mustafer, Alberto and new Cassamo, to cut more bamboo at the ‘Place of Tomorrow’ (about 1 hour drive into the bush)....on the way back a wonderful sight.  Plod plod three distinct footprints in the dusty track, on a stretch of road past the cashew tree and near home.  They have just passed – an elephant, lion and cat, probably serval. They have walked a long way together along the dusty road. What were they doing – an unusual mix. 



Elephant sauntering over our tyre tracks



Apparently old lion sometimes follow elephant and eat their poo.  I prefer to imagine a quiet evening stroll together.









Less is more and lions calling

The ranger house that is used to store for items confiscated from poachers (mainly lots and lots of snares) has collapsed.  The rainy season devastates most local buidings with their bamboo and mud construction.  It is being rapidly repaired before the big rains hit...any day now.

While it was being completely dismantled today by Adamo a snake was found and quickly killed.  It was an African egg-eating snake, a harmless thing with a small head and interesting adder-like markings.  We are fairly sure of the ID but it did not have a black inside of mouth – a defining feature.  So it may in fact be a viper?  Poor thing dies slowly with an arrow through its head.

Early afternoon - once again D tries to fill the Toyota to bursting with bamboo, we did the same yesterday and it all slipped off in the river bar one very small bundle.  Another lesson for today – ‘less is more’, somehow I think this is a lesson he will never learn!  But this time with two straps and five rangers on top the huge pile of bamboo arrives home.

Due to the mince hiccup (see earlier blog!) he cooks supper and I enjoy the fresh oil more than ever on spaghetti. We sit on the veranda and the moon is nearly full and the night forest quite clear.  Then the lion calls – a lower more growling painful song than usual and SO close.  Apparently he walked past the house one night while D was in Pemba.  Gosh I really think he is close by and again he sings.  (Here they describe lions as 'singing' not 'roaring'.)

Now D has activated the second lot of super 25 km radios, very kindly supplied by Jay and Blue Sky Botanics.  I am finishing my blog and he has taken his radio to the bathroom to update me on...any updates.  Nothing unusual happened there but now we have just found a lovely frog in the bag with the radio chargers in.  Enough blogging and wildlife for one day.

warning of DOMESTIC NATURE: Dominik has eaten all the mince!

I am fuming in a primeval, even evil way.  I prepared an extra large amount of mince for us last night which always involves more chopping, more washing, more diminishing light management and inhalation of smoke that you can conceive.  (Cooking over an open wood fire in a mud hut kitchen is a different sort of cooking.) I added this and that, including some specially imported Italian herb mix and a few precious bay leaf, plus the only hard carrot left etc.  Anyway we had it last night (HALF of it) and it was delicious. 

Food management is hard here, everything is bought on to the reserve and then tentatively maintained between monkey proof containers and a fridge operated by gas, which is temperamental and needs lots of checking and de-sooting. 

Well – I have been working all morning preparing visitor notes and feel a warm sense of achievement, they stretch to 5 pages.  I convince D that he should prepare us a simple lunch and after discussion we agree fruit and muesli.  My bowl is offered up...and he has none.  Why?  Oh, I have had noodles and mince.  What mince?  The one we had last night.  The mince, my carefully prepared and beautifully maturing mince that was going to provide a whole perfect favourite meal...for two, for you and ME.  Yes that mince.  What it is ALL gone – yes. 

Yes I am fuming – it may seem strange but this has really unsettled me.  It has dragged on the primitive cave wife. I had settled into other daily chores safe in the knowledge that the larder was full.  And now the cave man has eaten all the mince!  Well I have brewed to boiling point and tried to elicit a response, which goes like this:  ‘I will mend my selfish ways’...and he finally says it in a small inconsequential and disappearing voice - but he says it.  He better or I will have to do the hunting and build my own larder with a hand-crafted but deadly lock on it!

What is that bird? A boring buzzard…

We return from trying to gather a huge pile of bamboo.  Alberto had beautifully gathered it in bundles tied with string and we spent a great deal of time loading it onto the Toyota, it was very off balanced and finally disembarks in one loud clatter into a river bed. 

We arrive back (with a few sticks of bamboo) and Adamo has captured a raptor that was after the chickens, he got it with a bow and arrow and somehow it is now tied up by its leg.  It is magnificent with electric yellow eyes and a white chest with black splashes.  Poor thing looks quite out of sorts in this humbling grounded position.  I get water and manage to tip some into its beak- probably annoying further.  The arrow wound doesn’t look bad and it is full of healthy fury.  Adamo holds it down with the arrow bow and unties it…lots of pictures taken and finally it flies free.  Free to hunt D’s excessive and alluring chicken herd another day.  Although his encounter with Adamo may have put him off.  But what was this bird?

We study the book and it seems to be a European Buzzard – I have always thought Buzzards rather boring.  But this bird was a captivating, powerful and beautiful thing.  Today it taught me to mend my ways…buzzards are not boring.