P.s. Owww!

Also, during these hot still conditions, a lot jellyfish and other stinging things bloom in the water. Today I got a Portuguese man-of-war wrapped around my neck. For the two hours or agony afterwards I think the world should know! :-P

Winds of Change

Normally a Monday morning means waking up and going to a meeting with all the A Rocha staff, but today that was not the case. The elections for the fourth president since independence were taking place today, so everyone got a bank holiday to go and vote. Of course I couldn't vote and rather than stay at home, I decided to carry on with some field-work out in the ocean.
The morning was thick and hot, like most days in March. This time of year the hot dry north-east monsoon (kaskazi) is replaced by the cooler wet south-east monsoon (kusi), and in the time between the two the weather is like a pressure cooker. Hot, still and very moist. Days this time of year are sometimes referred to as glass days, because the sea is flat calm like a mirror. The conditions are beautiful for photography, but a nightmare to endure for many days on end.
On this particular still calm glass day it felt even more eerily quiet and liable to shatter, as the many people stayed at home all day, only venturing out to cast their votes. No one was to be seen on the streets, no shops were open and not even the sound of radios or lively chatter was to be heard. No one wants to take chances and risk being caught in violence or conflicts that occurred during the last election, where a close call election was claimed by both presidential candidates and then fought with violence between their two main supporting ethnic groups.
Many have talked about this election being a make or break situation, where Kenya will either triumph as a modern nation capable of holding free and fair elections, a growing economy and an increasingly educated and influential population or it will collapse and become another Rwanda or Congo or numerous other examples from this most turbulent continent. In reality I don't think either will happen.
I think its quite possible that the dominant Kikuyu tribe, being championed by Uhuru Kenyatta and ruled by fellow Kikuyu President Kibaki for the last ten years, will win this election because at least in part by their enormous financial influence. I think many people will be unhappy by this result, but the majority will not want to revert to the fear and violence experienced last time around and will buckle down and get on with life as they ever have, for 10 years now under Kibaki and 24 under his even worse predecessor Moi. That's what Kenyans do, they get on and make the best of a bad situation.
However, even if Odinga, the main contester and previous runner up in the controversial 2007 elections, does win, it will not be shining light of a new era that people are trying to convince themselves. Raila Odinga's father, like Uhuru Kenyatta's, was part of the first ever independent Kenyan government after the British left in 1963. Both are from highly influential political families and hence also are both stinking rich. The money and property they have acquired is enormous, and in stark contrast to the many in this country who struggle to feed themselves. The wealth divide in this country is terrible and in many ways I think this is worse  poverty than overall statistics about how many people live on less than $1 a day or however one wants to define wealth. Will Odinga really change this? Will any politicians think beyond self enrichment, to the needs of their people? I do hope Odinga will win and bring a change in politics to this country, but I think it will be a while before corruption, wealth divide and tribal politics are a thing of the past.
In the afternoon, on the empty blistering white beach I felt a breeze begin and strengthen from the South-East  and rain clouds appear on the horizon. Change is coming, but it is a long way off yet.

A typical "glass day" with rain clouds building with the pressure and heat.

Reflections of floating seaweed from underwater

Spreading the Word

Here in Kenya very few people like the sea. This is a fact which has taken a long time for me to accept as my whole life purpose at the moment is driven by my own love for the deep. The reason is that very few people have access to swimming pools and many areas of the country don't have any large areas of water, and so no one learns how to swim and hence the ocean is just a death trap. Even for those who are born on the coast, the sea is associated with black magic and death. Genies live in the waters and 4m tall spirits in black cloaks are said to stalk the beach at night. I don't know how much people really believe this, but it certainly seems no one wants to risk it.

So why does this matter? Well a crucial part of conservation, which I believe A Rocha has grasped, but few other conservation organisations really focus on, is the beliefs behind why something has conservation value. In the West especially, many of the hottest new buzz words and conservation concepts miss this essential facet. "Payment for ecosystem services", "Natural Capital", "Environmental goods and services" all  reflect the utilitarian arguments for conserving; i.e. if people see a physical (usually monetary) benefit from nature then they will conserve. However, many people are short-sighted or selfish and can equally say, well clearing that forest and building my factory on it makes me money now, so why should I care? Why anyone cares about anything is a reflection on the things they like and their beliefs.

Here lies the issue therefore, if very few people in Kenya like the sea and have little connection with it, then very few will be willing to conserve it and hence very little action or mitigation will be taken on its behalf. And that, of course, is exactly what we see. Kenya does make money from its marine Natural Capital, but this doesn't change behaviours and probably won't until the money flow is seriously effected. Politicians support oil exploration, new port developments, intensive fishing practises with no impact mitigation legislation or action, business people dump their waste near shore and local people exploit marine life with no thought for tomorrow. They just don't care. 

I've realised that my biggest potential impact for conservation here in Kenya is to get people to care. Its not about the data I collect or the papers I write alone, its also about the people here on the ground and what they think. I am not going to quit the PhD or stop doing the fieldwork I love, but I just always look for opportunities to include people and share the excitement. While Bob and his family have been here for the past couple of months they also understood this issue and worked on some rock-pooling events to introduce all the staff at A Rocha and the kids from the local school to the marine world. Whenever I can I take volunteers out on the boat while I'm doing surveys. Its small stuff, but its hearts and minds, one person at a time. And besides, it can be enormous fun and so rewarding when your friend finds their first starfish or swims for the first time.

Matthias with a starfish

On a sand bar with Simon about 1km from shore

Josephat with dive gear after a survey (best photo ever :-p)

The magic of the ocean

Postcard Africa

Flicking back through older posts I realise I have never done a post dedicated purely to African wildlife in all its forms. Of course this is one of the main things that is triggered in one's mind at the mention of the continent and for this blog I want to unashamedly brag about some of the cool stuff I've seen this past week. If you are sitting in the Northern hemisphere feeling cold and looking out on grey, I'm sorry for you, but if you willing, I will let you on a little African sunshine drenched wilderness. 

This past week I have been travelling around Kenya's "South Coast" which means everywhere south of Mombasa. Its an area I know hardly anything about and have only visited once before and I am here with my neighbour Dawn and a guy from her church called Jeremiah. There's no rational explanation for the trip or  the accompaniment other than it was worth coming and to see a new place. One area we visited is known as the Shimba Hills which rise up just inland up to 450m above sea level. Compared to the sticky hot coast they are that tiny bit cooler and fresher which is an amazing release and because they force all that hot sticky air up they have the highest rainfall on the Kenyan Coast giving them a thick blanket of forest which is almost like a rainforest. It also the best place on the coast to have a bit of the safari experience, with herds of elephant, buffalo, impala and even a few giraffe knocking about. The dramatic hills, with a patchwork of thick forest and savannah, look over towards the sparkling sea and Tanzania in the distance. At the moment with all the rain we have been getting, it is like a green jewel floating on misty clouds from below. Apologies for the soppy metaphors, in most places people are just exaggerating and trying to talk up their experience with these boring phrases, but this was the real deal. It really really was breath takingely beautiful. 

Below are some photos of animals I saw with the Kenyan safari guide code-name. They use these names to tell one another where animals are to show their guests, but are a little bit too cool for school to call them by their real names.  

Tortoise no. 1

Elephant - Maskio (ears)

Giraffe - Shingo mrefu (long neck)

Warthog - Nairobi express

Pygmy Kingfisher

Buffalo - Ng'ombe (cows)

After the game drive we wanted to do a hike down to a place called Shedrick Falls, which was a 2km hike through the jungle to a stunning waterfall. It was a really perfect little walk except for the fact that we had to go with a KWS guard in case the elephants mauled us, and seeing as he only wanted to go once a day, all the other people in the park came at the same time. This basically meant that there was a group of 15 Wazungu all trooping through the jungle as a pack, and as about 8 of them were a group of friends from South London all gossiping and making noise, it ensured we saw absolutely no wildlife on the way down. However it was quite satisfying watching them sweat on the way back up, puffing and wheezing, with red necks and drenched shirts. You have to spend time with Mother Africa before you can survive her! At the waterfall itself Jeremiah and I stood under the tumbling water and embraced the elements.

Kenyan Health and Safety

The other place we visited was (of course) a marine park. All three of us loooooove snorkelling (which is about the only major thing we have in common), so a trip to Kisite marine national park was a must. The park is slightly off-shore with most of the coral areas surrounding a small uninhabited island about 5 miles off shore near the Tanzanian border. We stayed there for 3 days and took the 1 hour boat ride out to the island twice. It has the best coral reef in the whole of Kenya by a long way and it was just stunning to behold. On the second day I felt like I had finally seen the reef I had always dreamed off complete with shelves of table Acropora stacked on top of one another and super abundance and size of fish patrolling around. On the second day I saw a couple of fish that had been on my wanted list for some time, namely the Palette surgeonfish, which is what Dory from "Finding Nemo" was based on and the Regal Angelfish, the most beautiful of this already very beautiful fish group. I also saw a turtle and a juvenile Oriental sweetlips with its 60s lava lamp patterns, which is a species my fish book and the internet says is not supposed to be in East Africa, but I have found it 3 times now! The colour and vibrancy of the life on the reef was outstanding. I could have stayed there forever and not got bored. 

Blue-line snapper

Juvenile Oriental Sweetlips

Palette Surgeonfish (Dory)

Smooth Grouper

Regal Angelfish

Oh Africa

There's something about this country that just gets my writing juices going. I've been in UK for a month and while I had a great time there was nothing that grabbed me to sit and write it down. Three days back in Kenya and I already need to write the tales and things I've seen.
Yesterday I set off from Nairobi on the day bus down to Watamu. It has been raining a lot here in the past month and the bush is the greenest I've ever seen it. All the way through Ukambani was like a shamrock, which I've never seen before (see the post from Ukambani in Nov 2011). At one point looking down flowing    creek, shaded by a tunnel of flowering trees with yellow weavers darting between the branches I thought I'd arrived in the Garden of Eden, before a strong bump reminded me that I was still on the Mombasa highway.
We were making great time and had Tudor Creek near Mombasa in our sights by 3:30 and then ... Jam! Lorries and buses and cars backed up as far as the eye could see and not even creeping forward. Complete standstill. Our bus stood still in the hot humid coastal air and the temperature started to rise and you know its hot when the Africans start sweating, shifting and fanning one another. In particular there was one mama sitting opposite me, who actually inspired this blog post, who started stripping off. Before my eyes the shirt was unbuttoned and the bra pulled off in sweaty contempt. However this wasn't enough for this aggravated matriach, she stood threateningly with her breasts bare and pointed at the bus conductor, "Weh! When I bought my ticket in Busia they told me I would be in Malindi by 3pm, what is the time now and where are we? I will never travel with Modern Coast again!" The poor conductor tried to convince her it was the jam and there was nothing Modern Coast or their associates could do, but she was not convinced. She sat glowering, flapping her open shirt wings like threatened bird trying to frighten predators away.
So next time you are on the bus or the tube, just think what you are missing. :-)

Injun Country

This rather long story is an account of the week I spent in Northern deserts of Kenya with my good friend Nicholas Lekalaile.

Travel

I've been on the road for two days now and apparently there's a little more to come. I decided to travel with Nicholas, our night-watch man (askari), to his home area in Rendille land far to the north of Isiolo, the alleged edge of civilisation, to see his family and this unique area.

Yesterday we left the clean organised world of Lavington, a wealthy suburb of Nairobi, and took a matatu to Eastleigh, the major Somali and generally Northern neighbourhood of Nairobi, to get a bus onwards. In the squalor of little stalls, dirt roads and Nairobi jam, we sat in the corner of a depot garage where, rather than finding a bus we seemed to gather a small concentration of Rendille who were catching up on the news of jobs or home, although I really don't know because I can't understand anything of their Cushitic tongue!

Eventually Niko prised away, mostly due to my persistence I expect, to go find a vehicle to carry us north. I felt if we didn't go soon I would loose all my nerve for the epic adventure ahead. We left Eastleigh and set out on the Thika highway, a 3-lane motorway built by the Chinese, probably as a part of their bizarre plan to link Lamu with Juba and making Isiolo a major transit town. Last time I did this route it was still being built and it took several hours on rutted side roads instead of this quick glide in the beautiful highlands beyond. The Kenyan Highlands are like the Garden of Eden. Rich dark red soil bursts forth every fruit and vegetable one could want and as you drive through the patchwork of small gardens it is a beautiful sight to behold. One can understand why some Kikuyus a superiority complex when you compare this area to their neighbours.

Three hours later we arrived at Nanyuki, at the foot of Mount Kenya, straddling the equator. This beautiful colonial town feels like the last homely house as described in the Hobbit. We drove through the final stretch of stunning farm land at the base of Mt. Kenya and then started our descent to the hot dry plains below, a drop so great my ears popped and my water bottle was crushed with the pressure change. At the bottom we reached Isiolo, a dusty dirty town full of various Northern groups complete with Arabs, Borani and Somali all shouting and spitting in a scene rather reminscent of Tattoine. In a mere 50 miles from Nanyuki to Isiolo we had passed a major boundary, leaving the green Bantu lands behind and entering the Northern realm of the nomad.

For four further hours we drove north seeing very little other than bush and a stunning sunset behind the Matthew's range as we zoomed along the pristine new tarmaced road bound for Ethiopia. Finally we arrived in the place where I now write, a dusty little wild-west trading post on the road, complete with gin bottles everywhere, but unlike the wild-west filled with beaded tribes-people. Niko is out on the road trying to find a bus to take us the on the last short stretch into the bush to his home.

Dusty travel

Suprises

Actually there was no bus, we were to get a car and arrive when possible. There was a Mzungu lady arrive unexpectedly in town, who Niko said is from Korr. He had said there was a missionary couple in Korr and evidently here was one of them! I asked nicely if we could get a ride and she obliged. We piles into the back of the small pickup with dozens of other people going that way. We stripped across the desert seeing some ostrich and gazelle on the way until we reached Korr at last, dusty and hot. On the way I was chatting to a guy who told me I was lucky because I had managed to get a ride only 1 day after arriving, he had been waiting 5 days for a passage! What is Niko leading me into?

Korr

 On arrival here the missionary lady Lynn led me to the house, opened a small guest room and put my stuff inside. Am I staying here then? First thing is figure out is I can ever leave this place! Lynn said she would call around to find out when a ride was going out, so Niko and I went into town to find out where is wife is. I followed him around town for a few hours, not able to talk to most people, just sitting and looking at this little town. Sadly to my surprise it is starting to look like any other area of Kenya with little shops selling Blue-band, a couple of Piki's zooming around and lots of plastic lying on the ground. Everyone down country says this place is off the edge the world, but evidently those places are hard to find these days.

The real bush

I'm now sitting in the small house of Nicholas' mother. Yesterday we set off for his wife's house in a Gob' about 5 km from town. On the way through Korr we stopped in the general store while Nicholas greeted dozens of people from being away so long. We sat in the shop for a while and eventually he said, “wait here five minutes, I'm going to get shoes”. Half an hour later he returned with no shoes and just the explanation, “too many people!”. He sent his wife who had arrived by this point and sat a while longer. Periodically the shopkeeper grabbed a small packet of tea and sugar and handed them to people coming through the shop. Eventually I realised that Nicholas was buying them for gifts. Now that he was a big man with a job in the South, it is expected that he gives gifts. He ran up a bill of 2000 shillings and completely finished his money, poor guy!

In the shop

Niko and his beautiful wife

His wife's Gob' was only a short distance from Korr, but as soon as we left Korr it felt like the wilderness tribal experience I had built up in my mind. It was difficult to say what was so enchanting, maybe the delicate elven faces adorned with so many colours or maybe the enormity of the desert, but whatever it was it was fascinating just to sit and watch.

Almost home

Cooking tea

A typical Rendille house is a domed bivouac made by bending sticks and covering them with animal skins, cardboard boxes and anything else they can find. The roof is 4ft high so can't stand but its comfortable enough to lie or sit. The doorway makes a short recessed corridor about 4 ft long meaning the inside has a semicircle space and two alcoves, one for storage and one for cooking. Cooking inside is necessary because the harsh desert winds would blow any fire away, but it makes the homes smoky and hot.

Nicholas spent most of the time telling stories to his numerous friends and family who hadn't seen for 9 months, while I watched or read. In the evening we headed out for a little walk around the area and as we waled across a dried river bed we spotted two Moran about 100ft away. Moran are the warriors of their community from the time they are circumcised during mass circumcision events every 12 years until they marry they must walk throughout the country with livestock finding good grazing and defending their territory. They are richly adorned with beads across their ritually scarred cheasts and wear feathers above their heads. They were rather frightening to behold and a reminder that this is an untamed land.

On the road

In the morning we set off on the 25km walk to his mum's gob' near a small trading centre called Namerai in the Ndoto mountains. I mostly enjoyed the walk, except towards the last hour when temperatures were well over 30 degrees and I was desperate for water. Arriving we were greeting by the dozens of overjoyed people I was now getting used to. With no phone signal to call ahead and plan, your loved ones just wake up as normal then suddenly you've arrived back it makes for much more jubilant greetings. Nicholas, now well acquainted with my camera and guitar starts showing off his magic tricks and living up to his expectation of being an accomplished man of the world. I let him pretend. Its much more fun watching them gaze lovingly at him as he beats discordantly on my guitar than if I was showing off. Besides its all he's got now his money is finished!

There's no place like home

An uphill battle with a dodgy leg

Oh the joy of discovery! The past week I went on  some fairly epic swims through the park in order to start filling the blanks of where we have yet to survey. In the process I've seen some epic sights including a sea-grass bank with several turtles all feeding in the same area and new coral areas I've not visited before teeming with snapper, sweetlips and barracuda. Steadily I'm peeling back the unknown areas and finding hidden worlds of beauty.
Sadly though the world around me is as hostile as ever. The Daily Nation reported this morning that natural gas has been stuck off the coast of Malindi only 60km from the reef. Who knows what sediments and chemicals this will throw into local waters killing coral and impact it will have on climate change and future coral bleaching. Yet most of the meals in my life have been cooked on gas, so what can I say really? I guess what worries me the most is the lack of conservation ethic in Kenya and poor attention to detail, which will make accidents more likely.
This past week I had a Kenyan volunteer assisting with the marine programme, who I asked to look at the conservation of sand dunes in East Africa and find out what studies have been done. His report concluded, that we should plant sand dunes with exotic tree species to increase the productivity of that habitat. I was horrified by the lack of understanding about conservation, but even more I felt quite vulnerable when I explained "A Rocha's" view on conservation. In order to help him understand I tried to get it to basics saying that we believe that natural systems are the goal we should aim for, not "improved" or altered for economic extraction. On this simple level I felt the conclusion was quite shaky and in reality it is. A Rocha may want to see natural systems, but maybe the Kenyan people want money and productivity. Who is correct? Am I just a rich kid, free from serious economic worries, enjoying nature as a luxury most people cannot afford?
Of course I don't believe this view in reality and recognise that people cannot live from eating money. A Rocha and other conservation organisations have shown that environmental degradation usually hits the poor the hardest and it is the poor that need conservation principals the most. However, the attitudes which govern decisions while drilling for gas to those decisions about sand dune conservation are very real and something one must be aware of working in this context. There are many people who simply don't understand why anyone should care about the sea. I have an uphill battle to fight.

Newly discovered patch reef I have dubbed "Round Reef"

Currently I am fighting that battle with a nasty Staphylococcus infection in my left leg, which makes walking painful, often flares up in fever through my whole body and is definitely keeping me out of the water. This morning the ASSETS volunteer, Furaha (which means Happy), came to the breakfast table and said, "Come I've heated the water, let me wash you." She took me by the arm as I limped to the laundry buildings where she nursed my illness with a care and attention I have never before received. She took a stick from the undergrowth and carefully cracked out some splinters from the heartwood. She used these to scrap away the infected pus surface, then proceeded to gently squeeze the red inflamed area of the gooey white substance within. The entire time she never shied from the disgusting nature of the task and always with intense attention to minimise pain caused and pausing when her patient was wimpishly flinching. She then cleaned the wound and carefully added salt which she infused into the area with a single drop of water deftly placed from her little finger. She then finally blew onto the are removing heat and ache of the raw, but treated illness. You may wonder why bother telling this story, but for me it was the attentive care I have received (apart perhaps from Mum's magic beds when I was a kid) and it was a privileged insight into one of the many complex finely tuned skills African children learn in the village, but which are so rarely recognised in modern society. Thank you Furaha, you have made me happy today.