Sunday

Sundays are fantastic in this place. One can truly feel in paradise, with not a care in the world. I sat in the nature trail this morning simply watching the birds and the monkeys. After lunch I paddled out to the back reef, had a glorious snorkel, where I saw a turtle, big marbled grouper and a shoal of unicorn fish. It just feels so idyllic, like the world is simply there for enjoyment and beauty, and on Sundays one can just soak it in.
Sundays are also timeless. There's no past, of how pristine the reef used to be, no present issues and no future with ongoing abhorrent corruption and potential violence in later this election year. The irony is I'm writing about these things on a Sunday, but for the most part the weekend is not just a break from work, but from the world too.
This week I felt less ready to just accept the status quo. In order to survive in a place like this one needs to adjust one's expectations and acceptance thresholds. Over the time I've been here this process has become second nature which is mostly useful for sanity, but not always the best. For example a big issue here at the moment is ring-netting, a destructive illegal fishing practise, which is going on in front of everyone's face, but very little is being done. On Monday I saw the boat fishing right next to the park and when I got home there was an email from the Dive Instructor to the whole community with photos of the boat. Suddenly there was a flurry of angry comments from various people. The KWS warden Korir sent his apologies saying he would deal with it after returning from upcountry and another guy said there was to be a meeting with fisheries. I was telling Joy, a volunteer helping with marine work, about it and said that I felt encouraged by the Warden's response and the upcoming meeting. Stanley overheard the conversation and shouted from the office next door, "Rubbish! This is an illegal practise carried out by one boat, whose owner we know. Just arrest him! What will you talk about in the meeting!?" Stanley is a respected community figure who has worked with A Rocha from the start. He followed through by emailing that comment on the chain going around. I was inspired and realised that I had spent so long learning to accept crazy situations I could no longer yell when necessary. In response, I called the second in command at KWS, Sergeant Tinga, and told him exactly what I thought. I could say it as a friend and colleague and someone who has been here a little while. I don't know whether it had any impact, but it certainly felt good to get it out!
It is so hard to exist when so much around you is going wrong. Its a tight-rope of apathy and despair, stress or defeated acceptance. And that is where I feel God comes in. He is the Rock on which we base our hope. There are signs of hope in the world, but it really can be a battle and we need to stand in Christ and fight the battle with love and gentleness and peacefully say, "This is not ok."
This Sunday, like many I've enjoyed at A Rocha, has been a time to rest and simply enjoy and recharge for the week. A time to remind myself what is beautiful and what we should strive for.

Hawksbill turtle

Ring netters in action

Luck and a Holiday

I've generally been known to be quite extroverted. I talk to people because everyone is so fascinating a store of full of stories, experiences and views. As a result of talking to anyone and everyone I have more cool coincidences and serendipitous events than most people or at least it seems that way. Last week was a prime example; while on the other side of the creek around New Year's I found a small but beautifully decorated guest-house. The owners were shocked to see that I'd swam across and invited me for a drink. We chatted and I mentioned about my project and then went home. A week later they called me saying would I come over to meet their son Jay, who was interested in the work. I could have easily said no, I have lots to do and what does this meeting matter really, but instead I went. They collected me in a kayak and we paddled over the creek to the coral area. We had a nice snorkel and Jay was impressed. After they cooked me a delicious fish meal for lunch and we chatted about the work. Papu, the owner of the guest-house, said towards the end of the meal, “Well we'd like to help in anyway we can, perhaps we can throw a boat your way?” Just like that! Before long I'd said my thanks and goodbyes and set off from the beach in a gorgeous yellow sports kayak, they're lending me until March. Moral of the story, talk to everyone because you never know where it will end up!

I've been staying on the small island of Wasini near the border with Tanzania. It's a small undeveloped coral rag outcrop in the Indian Ocean, where 100% of the population are strict muslims. I'm staying at a volunteer centre of Global Vision International (GVI) a gap year company who focus on conservation and community work. I needed some time away from Mwamba and Watamu as it was getting a little claustrophobic, so I wanted to explore the South Coast. I met the manager and a few staff of GVI at the conference in Mombasa in October and decided to check it out.

Most of the volunteers at GVI are young guys who've only arrived in Africa for the first time a week ago. Having chats with them is fun because it reminds me of home, but also its good because its nice to see how much I've grown in the past year. I'm the only person at A Rocha not born in Kenya and hence having to learn how to deal with things my colleagues are used to and often feeling quite ignorant. Hanging around with these volunteers makes me see how much I've learnt.

The reefs near Wasini are supposed to be the best in Kenya, which was a major pull here. Since I started the marine research in Watamu I felt a slight disappointment the whole time that I don't know what a pristine reef looks like. I had a lot of expectations for the reef here! I went to Kisite Park yesterday which was supposed to be the big moment. When I jumped in the water it was great, but I wasn't overwhelmed. It was really nice, for sure, but the not stunning experience I had built it up to be. It was quite encouraging really because there are some areas in Watamu I would say are comparable to the reef in Kisite. The fish were great too, big marbled grouper and really high butterfly fish diversity, which is a clear indicator of coral health. Its also encouraging because the park is well off-shore on a remote island and as result is well protected.

The community here on the island are quite different to what I'm used to elsewhere in Kenya. I think its a combination of being relatively unused to seeing Wazungu, being strict muslims and living on a small island which they never leave. I definitely noticed some characteristics that reminded me of Scilly! A general suspicion and hostility to outsiders must be something islands do to people! With many people on the island though it didn't take long to break through this veneer, especially when I introduced myself by my African name, Charo. Here's a few photos from an afternoon walk into the village. A little girl stopped me as I entered the village, saw my camera and demanded a photo.

Standing to attention for the photo

Like an alarm had gone off, several other children emerged and also wanted photos too.

I stopped by the local cafe for a cup of sweet ginger tea and chapattis.

Mama Rama cooks her perfectly circular chapattis over a wood three block stove in the corner and keeps her tea warm in thermos flasks.

She is the centre of the village and a social hub, for which her raw joyous laughter and welcoming personality are perfect.

The time here in Wasini has been a mix of reading, snorkelling and relaxing in tropical paradise. Its been a really great time away. I head back to Watamu tomorrow ready to get into fieldwork, but just before then I think I'll go for one last wallow in the turquoise lagoon :-).

Lone fisherman surveys his kingdom

Local kids washing one of the GVI volunteer's hair in the lagoon

View from the GVI camp

Cliffs at the north end of the island get the full force of Oceanic waves

Peace on earth and elephants to all men

As I wrote this I was lying in the top of an enormous baobab tree in Arabuko-Sokoke forest on New Year's Day.

To celebrate the new year and get a bit of time to myself I've hiked out here to camp in the old tree platform A Rocha built. It was a beautiful walk, but slightly nerve racking as the were tons of fresh elephant droppings and footprints on the way!

Christmas and New Year passed in quite an exciting, but not particularly restful way. Mum and Dad came for 10 days over Christmas and we managed to fit in a lot! We had a great two day safari in Tsavo East, an enormous area of wilderness west of here. We saw tons of game from elephants, zebra, giraffe and a peek or a lion in the distance. On Christmas Eve we came into the forest with my old friend David Ngala who gave us a top notch tout. We saw everything we wanted from the Golden-rumped Elephant-shrew to the Sokoke Scops Owl. We even saw an Ele, but he got a bit close for comfort and I thought he was about to charge the car and we would never see Christmas day. Luckily he turned off just before reaching the car! David is really a legend forest guide. We stopped at the side of the track at one point and he merely said, “I know there are scops owl around here, wait a moment.” Ten minutes later he returned and we followed him into the trees until he said, “Stop!” and pointed straight up into the canopy of a tree. Sure enough, nestled in the branches, was the well camouflaged and smallest owl in Africa. It was really very special for me seeing as I spent so much time in the forest doing research with David, but never seen one before. The whole tour was my favourite day while Mum and Dad were here.

Christmas Day Dad and I went on a morning snorkel to the larder where you often see a lot of large predatory fish. We saw some lovely shoals of sweetlips and snapper and interestingly a 50 strong congregation of butterflyfish. As we zoomed along the palm lined, sun-drenched road on a motorbike back to Mwamba I couldn't help feeling a sense of great achievement that I had somehow landed myself in such a luxurious and beautiful place. Christmas Day was hot even by Kenyan standards, but luckily we were having dinner at Roni and Colin's so all we did was lie under a tree and be fed a delicious chicken braai.

It was really sad to see Mum and Dad go on the 27^th and it made me quite homesick. Since then all the days have been blurred into lots of snorkelling and hanging out with guests. I swam south of Mida Creek twice, which is actually quite hard as a rapid rip current flows out of the creek to sea. I semi-rode the current, swimming perpendicular to it and popped out the other side and further out to sea. This brought me to a really beautiful area of coral, which I discovered while Bob was here and is now one of my study sites. One of the times I swam to the Southern Coast of Mida, which is much more remote than Watamu and quite undeveloped. It was so utterly peaceful over that side, no buildings, no people and wise empty beaches. The solitude of it was just delicious. Solitude is not a word in the African dictionary and they don't understand the concept. Francis thought the only reason I was coming to the forest alone today was to pray! Because of that culture and how busy Mwamba is anyway, I crave that solitude and am going to try to get away more and more.

Last night, New Year's eve, was lovely. I brought meat for all the guests at Mwamba and grilled it for a traditional Nyama Choma and bonfire celebration for New Year. At midnight we ran into the sea and played with the sparkling phosphorescence in the water. What a magical way to start the year.

9pm that night

Oh my gosh! Elephants everywhere! I started making a fire around 7o'clock about 50m from the tree in a clearing and suddenly there was a crack. Sure enough about 20m away there was an elephant. I crouched low in the grass and hoped it hadn't seen me, but the wind was behind me and must have smelt me. It came closer and closer until I ran for it through the bushes and up the tree. It didn't chase, but did amble over and stare at me in the tree for a while. When I finally had the courage I ran back to the clearing to get the wood and cooking stuff and made a fire at the base of the tree. The whole time and even as I write this a herd of elephants are trumpeting and roaring in the swamp. Both amazing and terrifying!

Male Impala in the distance

Big bull elephant challenging our car in Arabuko-Sokoke!

Christmas dinner

Mum and Dad visiting my friend Francis' house

Sokoke Scops Owl

Awesome coral near Whale Island

Taking the baby out the house

This is a short account of my weekend at my friend's shamba (small holding farm) in Jilore north of Arabuko-Sokoke forest. There's three parts which I wrote at different points throughout the day.

Evening of the 9^th

I'm sitting in a shamba near Jilore surrounded by half a dozen kids who are reading every word I write. At the same time cheesy gospel reggae is booming out over the stereo hooked up to a generator. The kids are singing along religiously. Its very cute, but quite strange.

(After this they started drawing in my diary for a while)

Morning of the 10^th

I'm currently sitting in the shamba of my friend Mathias from Mwamba. He's just gutted a great a goat to celebrate his baby's 1 month old “coming out of the house” ceremony. When he first invited me to this party I asked, “So you mean the baby hasn't left the house yet?” He just looked at me like I was crazy, why would anyone take the baby out before!? I then tried to ask if there was any significance of taking the baby out, if there was any ceremony. “We roast goat, then relax” So here I am anyway and we'll see if there's anything more to understand.

The generator stereo played until 1 or 2 last night and five of the men in the family finished a demi-john of the potent home made palm wine. If any of you remember the cider I made one year at university it was like that but worse! I politely refused and tried to sleep through the noise

Back at Mwamba on the 11^th

In the end the baby was gently carried out and passed between different women in the family. Although there was no ceremony as such, it was a gentle moment of silence as the baby came out.

A little lesson on Giryama hospitality. As you get within eyesight of the house you are going to people run to meet you and your bags are taken and carried for you. Even my water bottle in my hand was fought over by two kids to decide who got to carry it. When you arrive at the homestead someone will carry a chair for you to sit on under a tree and if there's no chair free someone will sit on the floor and give you theirs. After that someone will serve you chai without asking, it's expected, and if for some reason you don't want any or have had enough you leave it and someone will silently remove it. At meals everything is served to where you sit; food water, sauces etc. Before and after the meal a girl will carry a jug of water and a bowl over which you hold your hands as she pours the water so you can wash them. Even because I was there over night I took a spare t-shirt and kikoi for using as a towel. In the morning an old lady had washed these for me and hung them to dry.

It was a very peaceful day. Mostly sitting or lying on a mat under a tree from the cool of the morning to the intense heat of the afternoon. The pace is so relaxed that you have time to watch everything, from how the mama was squeezing clothes for washing, to the gentle flutter of acacia leaves caught in a breeze, to the flowing chatter of people talking in Giryama. It was also special because it really was a family event, where everyone, whether they work in Mombasa, Malindi or Watamu returned to the family farm. It definitely had that character of togetherness which reminded me of our extended family when we gather. In addition it had the timelessness typical of rural African settings, both historically and literally. As I was getting ready to leave I asked out of interest what time it was. The only person with a phone on them merely replied, “Sorry, I haven't set it”. So I left on a motorbike at some point with someone, who drove around an hour to drop me home, only to return to the party, where life goes on with the unhurried rhythms of days, seasons and generations.

Matthias, his wife and his baby Rich

Sunrise over Sabaki river

Gutting the goat, starting with the testicles

Washing clothes

Sifting the rice

The big moment

The baby is out!

Tropical Paradise

The post I had written for today was mostly dealing with the frustrations I have with one particular group, but as you should only post on the internet what you would want those people to read I haven't actually typed any of that entry, it is available on email request though! Besides you guys don't really want to hear about those things anyway, so here as some fun stories from tropical paradise.

Now I'm allowed in the water it has changed the whole dynamic for me here. I'm much happier for being able to go to the reef every day and I think I enjoy it more and more each time. There's something so exciting every time I go out because I notice new species, new behaviours and new details that weren't there before. In addition Bob, my supervisor from A Rocha UK, has come down for a few weeks to see how I'm doing and help me move forward. As a result I'm doing a lot of new things, like underwater transects and quadrants, which are darn sight harder in the water than on land!

I've also spread out and visited a lot more sites recently, including the reef crest, a good 2km swim from the beach. This beautiful sand bar marks the edge of the reef lagoon where big oceanic waves crash and the reef slopes gently into the inky depths, where coral and colour cease to be. Just off the reef crest is a very different dynamic to in the lagoon, with cooler and clearer water and obviously much rougher. As a result the fish species are quite different and so it was very exciting to stumble on a whole community of fish I didn't know.

Today Bob and I did a trip around a large portion of the park looking for patch reefs, as much of the park area isn't even mapped. Within this search we also went outside the park to the south over a channel leading from Mida Creek, where tons of water flows in rapid currents on the daily tides in and out the creek. On the other side of this current was an amazing patch reef with the best coral growth I'd ever seen (of course based on only Kenya and Costa Rica). There were much fewer fish than in the park, so fishing was taking its toll, but coral cover was much higher. This shouldn't be, because fish are theoretically supposed to prevent coral from being over grown by algae, so potentially something interesting is going on here, which people haven't studied yet! I certainly want to, just so I can spend time around those patch reefs. Stunning!

So in summary I'm becoming slightly addicted to the reef. The beautiful clusters of Acropora, the dainty butterfly fish and the confusing array of outrageously coloured wrasse. The other day I saw a baby angelfish, which have completely different markings to their parents and are even more outstanding than colourful elders. Even though I've seen them before, I was just as amazed by something as beautiful and, to my human sentiment, as precious as this little guy as the first time I saw one.  

Baby Emperor Angelfish (Pomacanthus imperator)

The Way Forward

Last week I spent at the Western Indian Ocean Marine Science Association (WIOMSA) conference in Mombasa. The north part of Mombasa is certainly posh. There are supermarkets bigger than anything in the UK, cinemas, posh bars, flower-lined tarmac roads and impressive houses for about 10-miles stretching north of the city. Whereas in Kasiyani, water is carried for miles to thirsty homes, there it is sprinkled on lawns and golf courses. Going from one extreme to the other was a bit crazy. Its just confusing knowing what your normal point of reference is.

The conference was hosted in the poshest 5* hotel on the Kenyan coast although I stayed in a backpackers a couple of miles away I ate lunch there. There were things I just never see in Kenya like olives, pesto and chocolate cake! It was very cool.

Most importantly though, the conference had 500 delegates from Kenya to South Africa and east to Madagascar, Seychelles, Reunion, Comoros etc. all conveniently meeting effectively on my doorstep to talk about a wide range of fascinating marine ideas. I heard some great talks and got excited by a bunch of new ideas of how to move forward with research e.g. Locally Managed Marine Reserves by local fishermen to coral genetic marks and connectivity between reefs. It was stimulating and great fun to be really nerdy for a week.

A big debate raged in my head all week though, about an issue that I've been aware for a while, but was really brought to a point. I've always been suspicious of academia, e.g. how someone can be paid to look at the social interactions of crabs on a mud flat I do not know. How these people study the crabs next to hungry kids fishing for little silverfish boggles my mind. However, most of the talks at the conference did have practical implications, like plenty of socio-economic studies of poverty and marine resources to understanding the impacts of global warming on coral survival. Nevertheless as I have seen in the Isles of Scilly and with Kenya Wildlife Services, very little of this information reaches conservation on the ground. The actual impact of studies is minimal, so how are they any more important than to read about how crabs make friends?

I have spent the last four years studying and pursuing a career in conservation biology because I wanted to conserve nature, in this case saving coral. To consider that any study I did would be largely irrelevant to this goal was a bit shocking really and that week I even considered forgetting being a scientist and trying a career where I could have more impact. Of course data are a truth which is hard to argue with, so you can prove to people what is happening and demonstrate how it works, but it feels like that truth is not reaching the people who need it to change things. Maybe we need less information collection in the world and more information dissemination. For example, plenty of people understand the dynamics of coral fish ecology and how susceptible they are to overfishing, but none of those people actually are involved with fishing. The people fishing think there are less fish than 20 years ago because they are hiding or Allah wills it so.

There are plenty of great NGOs in the world, including A Rocha who are relaying conservation to people. Somewhere like A Rocha research and practical impact are rolled together in many projects, under one organisation on a local level. At the moment this is the best model I can see. Hopefully in a few years time I will have a great PhD, but also leave healthy coral behind as well.

In other news my permits are through, but I really don't want to celebrate yet it feels too premature! There's certainly a big weight off my heart though. I've had a blissful weekend before reporting to the KWS early Monday morning. On Saturday Heidi and I walked into Watamu for our traditional Saturday morning ice-cream. In the afternoon we played on the beach with Ivy, Belinda's eldest daughter and friends. We jumped waves, dug holes and pretended to be sea monsters. It really reminded me of beach holidays when I was a kid. I don't think I've had fun on a beach like that for ages. To top off a fantastic day we had a bonfire and nyama choma (grilled meat) for Heidi's birthday. Lots of people came, there was a guitar and even night swimming under a bright moon. It was a really perfect day

.

High and Dry

No sooner had I wrote that positive entry than my permits were suspended for some unknown bureaucratic or political reason. Last week I managed to fill time with data entry and other little tasks, but was plagued by growing frustration and not to mention heavy rainfall and long periods without power, (apparently rain causes transformers to short). On Thursday I woke up to torrential rain, no permits and no power, so not even my computer worked. Some how I managed to fill the time, but on Friday morning I awoke to torrential rain, no permits and still no power. What is the point!?

Over the weekend some cool guests showed up including a guy called Jeff who is friends with Heidi, a researcher working from A Rocha at the moment. He was leaving on Tuesday, so I decided if nothing was sorted by then I would go with him for a little safari and trip around. We headed to Mombasa and spent the first night there hanging out in the old town and doing some shopping. On Wednesday we travelled up country to where he was working in Kamba land about 3 hours east of Nairobi on the Western edge of Tsavo East.

Its a really poor area up there. No tourism or industry, just farms of barren red earth, waiting for the rain, which has so far only blessed the coast. Its the kind of place where no one has ever seen a Mzungu, so I attracted a lot of attention where ever I went. Even the prices for piki-pikis (motorbike taxi) are lower than the coast, despite that petrol is the same price everywhere, showing how much poorer people are and how little they live on. I don't know how people make any money, never mind the $1 a day statistic most of them probably fall in.

The place where I stayed in Kasiyani was probably the wealthiest apartments in the place for people like the school teacher opposite. The “apartment” is a single 3mx3m room with corrugated iron roof and cement floor. There are communal long-drops and washrooms. All water comes from a single tap in the compound when it works, or from the tap in the village when it doesn't. We take bucket baths and water is always on the mind as a precious resource. We are the lucky ones, some people on the shambas (farm land) have to walk several kilometres to the nearest water point an then somehow carry the 20 litre containers, I struggled with across our courtyard, back to their homes.

Standing on koppie in Kamba country

Stay tuned for updates from my time in Mombasa at the marine conference. I'm quite behind in writing, but lots of cool stuff happened when I got back down to the coast.