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...the
nature we share
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recent decades, conservation interests have succeeded in banishing Maasai from
large areas of their traditional lands, including the Serengeti National Park.
Confined with their herds into smaller areas, Maasai have begun turning to agriculture
to supplement their diet. Leslie's team is studying the consequences — for
Maasai families and for the environment.
"These parks and conservation areas, where all the fantastic wildlife
is, can't really be treated as isolated systems because the animals don't know
about the park boundaries, and some of them have to migrate in the dry season
to other grazing areas," Leslie says. "Pastoralists can live in a place
and intermingle with the wildlife, but sometimes they have to get out of the way.
The wildebeest, for example, have huge migrations, and when the wildebeest calve,
they spread, through nasal secretions and so on, a disease that's lethal to cattle.
So Maasai herders have to stay away from the wildebeest during certain times of
the year. But if you are planting fields in these wildlife corridors, what's going
to happen? People don't want fifty thousand wildebeests or even a few elephants
running through their fields."
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.: This photo,
which Leslie calls "Apalo dancing,"
captures the fluid grace of the Turkana people. For young women, dancing with
15-20 pounds of beads around the neck requires a special finesse. Photo by Paul
Leslie; click to enlarge. :. |
ne
of Leslie's graduate students, Amy Cooke in the Ecology Curriculum, is working
outside of Tarangire National Park, where Maasai are adopting agriculture. Cooke
studies how people choose where to farm, and she examines farming's effects on
the migration corridors of key wildlife species. "We really need to know
a lot more about the ecology of these systems and, unfortunately, we've got to
know yesterday," Leslie says. "This is happening right now, it's happening
very fast, and it's a real race. If we want to have any sort of a rational response
to human population growth and economic change and the desire to conserve, we've
got to know a lot more."
In the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, the government has attempted to ban agriculture
or at least to limit it severely. Leslie's team is comparing the effects on people
and the environment inside the conservation area with those outside it. The team
is also studying the changes that result as more and more Maasai, especially young
men, gravitate toward towns.
"They find work especially as watchmen and guards because they have a
reputation of being fierce warriors," Leslie says. "So they go there
with the idea of earning some money, buying some animals, adding to the family
herd, and getting married. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. But in
addition to bringing back animals, they are also bringing back new expectations
and values, and maybe a source of income. So they are less dependent on the elders,
and their social system is going to change. They are also bringing back microbes,
and HIV is now just getting into this area."
eslie
collaborates with Trude Bennett, associate professor of maternal and child health;
with Ipas, a Chapel Hill-based organization that works with women's reproductive
health; and with two Tanzanian hospitals that have mobile health-care units. The
team gathers information from medical clinics in remote areas to study maternal
mortality rates, to track pregnancies, and to test for HIV and other sexually
transmitted infections.
In all of this work, Leslie adopts the perspective of a human ecologist — someone
who studies people as a part of their environment. And he's been doing this kind
of research much of his career. For 15 years, from 1980 to 1995, Leslie was part
of a team of social scientists and ecologists studying people from the Turkana
region of northwestern Kenya. The project, whose results have been published in
part in Turkana Herders of the Dry Savanna (edited by Michael A. Little and Paul
Leslie and published in 1999 by Oxford University Press), dispelled some long-held
assumptions about the herders and their animals.
"For a long time, Western policy makers and scientists have had the picture
that African pastoralists are not really rational herders," Leslie says.
"The pastoralists keep as many animals as they can, and they have big herds
with lots of scrawny animals that often look like they are just walking skeletons.
So the development expert goes in there and says, 'Well, these guys don't know
what they're doing. They're keeping too many animals, they're overgrazing, and
they're causing desertification — spread of the deserts.' But
in Turkana, we found no evidence of that, except in the few cases around towns
or missions where wells have been drilled, and then people congregate, and you
do get overgrazing."
y
combining the tools of diverse fields, including biology, ecology, anthropology,
hydrology, and medicine, the Turkana project could examine the people and their
environment from multiple perspectives. For example, ecologists watched animals
nibble bushes or built exclosures to keep animals away, studying the effects on
vegetation. Anthropologists observed people day by day, asked them about their
animals, their decisions, and their social arrangements. In combination, the studies
yielded a comprehensive picture of life in Turkana.
This approach — to study people as a part of the ecosystem — was
a new idea when the project began. Ecologists of the time tended to regard human
beings as intruders and despoilers, and researchers typically sought out pristine
systems undisturbed by people. But in Turkana, Leslie and his colleagues found
a system in which people were inseparable from the natural order of things. As
Leslie writes it in the first chapter of Turkana Herders, the landscape of northwest
Kenya conveys "an image of linearity and sharpness. The people are tall and
thin, the dogs are scrawny, the rocks are sharp, and the trees are covered with
thorns." But in these harsh environs, where life seems precarious at best,
Leslie and his colleagues found a logical system at work.
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