Lessons from Humanity’s Birthplace

BY COMPARING DNA FROM DIFFERENT SOURCES, SCIENTISTS HAVE concluded that the common ancestor of all of humanity may have lived along the Rift Valley of Africa, one of Earth’s landmarks that is visible to astronauts in space.

Here in the cradle of humanity at the north end of the fabled Serengeti Plain, we get a hint of what the conditions may have been like when those first human creatures made their appearance. Descending from the trees and walking upright, they shared a vast expanse of grassland with herds of grazing and gamboling animals beyond count.

In Masai Mara, as in the Galápagos Islands, the animals haven’t learned to fear our species. Large gatherings of wildebeest graze along with Grant’s and Thompson’s gazelles, zebras, and topi. We encounter giraffes, elephants, and lions along the road’s edge. The Mara River is filled with hippos bellowing and blowing, while immense crocodiles lie motionless on the banks.

For the bird lover, this is truly a paradise, as flocks of dignified crested cranes glide by, plovers leap screaming at our intrusion, and even starlings are spectacular. There are frogs, lizards, and snakes to satisfy the most demanding herpetology buff.

As a longtime lover of insects, I am enthralled by their variety here, from praying mantis to walking sticks, grasshoppers as big as mice, and scarab beetles rolling balls of dung. (When I was a child, I avidly captured and killed insects for my collection, but how times have changed. My daughters share my passion for insects but adamantly refuse to kill them just for display. Now pictures have replaced boxes of pinned specimens.)

For city dwellers from industrialized countries, the Serengeti’s diversity and abundance of wildlife are a stunning contrast to our barren urban habitat. But coming from such an impoverished environment, we have no basis for judgment about the state of life here on the plain. To get a fuller perspective, we read records of early adventurers and talk to elders, men and women who have lived here for their entire lives. They inform us that the makeup and numbers of animals have been profoundly altered in this century, and that in spite of greater awareness, national parks, and ecotourism, the change continues.

Only a few decades ago, one of the truly charismatic mammals in the world, the rhinoceros, numbered in the tens of thousands. Today in Masai Mara, there are fewer than twenty, and African children now take for granted a profoundly restricted range and number of their animals. Cheetahs, chimpanzees, and leopards that once flourished across large parts of the continent are currently confined to tiny areas in parks, reserves, and private game farms.

When Ed Sadd, the owner of Bushbuck Camp, where we are staying, came to Nairobi in 1978, Kenya’s population was 12 million people. Today it is 28 million. Kenya has one of the highest birth rates in Africa, and its population will double again in a mere 17½ years. This increase in population puts enormous pressure on the habitat of the wild animals. It is simply not enough to set aside tracts of wilderness for animals when exploding numbers of people need income, land, wood, and food. Somehow the needs of both have to be satisfied and protected.

Like millions of others from industrialized countries, I am here as a tourist. “Ecotourism” is much touted as a way for countries in the South to preserve wilderness while generating much-needed income. But tourism is not benign; it too is “consumptive.” Here on the Mara, the impact of tourism is readily apparent.

It has rained heavily and the ground is saturated with water, so the four-wheel-drive vehicles quickly cut crisscrossing tracks and ruts across the plains. Trucks and vans frequently bog down, their spinning wheels cutting deep trenches through the grass.

We have chosen to stay put in one camp and take our time seeking and observing specific species. But most tourists stay in this area for only two or three days, so their drivers whip across the grass to maximize the number of animals they can see.

The drivers watch other vehicles closely. We come upon a male lion mating with two females, and soon there are eight other cars surrounding the animals and parked within a few meters of them. It is a thrilling experience to have such an intimate view of nature, and yet the snickering and giggling of the tourists and our close proximity make it seem as if the animals are performing for our titillation.

There are few places on Earth that have the number and diversity of animals that still live here in Kenya and Tanzania. But they face unprecedented challenges of pressure from human beings. Can we learn to share their space so they can flourish?

Ecotourism is certainly preferable to extensive logging, damming, or otherwise developing wilderness. But ecotourism is invasive and consumptive. Ultimately, we will have to learn to revel in knowing that wildlife exists free and beyond our presence