I refer to the article “Megapark threatened” (April 26). Indeed Minister of Enviromental Affairs and Tourism Mohammed Valli Moosa did promise undeliverables with regard to the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park, but I’d like to suggest that a certain stakeholder group got him to stick his neck out on its behalf (for fences to be lifted and threatening animals to be introduced, with precious little management on the ground, well before it was responsible to do so) to ensure that the expectations these stakeholders had established in the public arena and the promises that they had made to their funders would be fulfilled.
Moosa was probably unaware of the fundamental sticking point for the project’s success the project’s lack of rural consultation, people who consider this land “their land” and who will finally determine the success or failure of this transfrontier park.
Many young field conservationists in South Africa are not surprised by Justin Arenstein’s findings. Seven years ago South African Development Community (SADC) conservationists who ran tried-and-tested programmes of conservation-based community development, invited South African practitioners to join their regional network of cooperation.
They knew, through some hard lessons, that only by actively involving rural communities in the business of ecotourism and sustainable land management with wildlife, would they be able to conserve protected areas.
These conservationists had long been used to working with a limited traditional skills base, fragmented infrastructure and negligible budgets. Necessity had forced our neighbours to gain a wealth of experience in a new form of African conservation practice, incorporating rural leadership, knowledge and sustainable wildland management practice, both within and alongside protected areas.
Despite the SADC conservationists’ efforts, I watched South Africa’s old white vanguard of established NGOs look on with a little disdain, participating marginally, so assured were they that they would never find themselves practising this kind of Africanised conservation.
As the years went by young Turks in the field soon realised that it was an imperative to consult with rural people living alongside protected areas. Their managers in the established NGO sector, however, paid lip service to truly inclusive community participation, coupled with real developmental objectives that would provide incentives for rural people to continue to live with dangerous wildlife.
As these young Turks began to develop programmes that involved building capacity in new black conservationists, the old boys refused to move out of their “single species protection” domain, too afraid to meaningfully involve rural people in the protection of South Africa’s biodiversity.
Some of us left the fray, too tired of trying to convince our Old Boys Club managers that we had no alternative but to include African management perspectives. But the Old Boys were not going to give an inch into their conservation strongholds, fearful that they would lose their established profiles and funding bases. The irony and tragedy is that now there are precious few black conservationists to take over their conservation legacy.
Years ago, I remember observing a Peace Parks Foundation’s senior representative at a community consultative workshop in Kruger, a pinstriped Englishman who proved to be completely out of his depth. Perhaps he thought a quick dash into the bush would allow him to tick off “communities consulted” on his to-do list. As I recall, community representatives were left angered and alienated by his superficial grasp of the situation, and the arrogance of placing his ready-made plan before them.
And what about the board members of these organisations? Seven years later the Old Boys grow impatient with needing to leave a legacy, and it’s easier to convince those like Moosa to fast track their objectives, knowing the shortfalls, but fundamentally jeopardising the entire dream.
The best thing about being part of an Old/Young Boys club (and there are plenty of young Anglophiles in their wake) is that you buy their silence the NGOs and consultants knew that Moosa’s promises reflected both questionable judgements and bad conservation practice, considering the project’s lopsided state of completion. Moosa took his lead from those he believed were “in the know”. Those on the ground knew it was a farce.
Poor, rural people are not stupid when it comes to the management of the land on which they survive. This is the only resource they have available to keep poverty at bay. Without thorough, inclusive consultation even at the stage of “drawing up” a project, years of time and money are wasted, not to mention a new arena of mistrust it’s rather like reviewing the planned routing of the Shilowa Express in your newspaper along with receiving eviction papers your home, your only real asset after 40 years of hard work, is bang slap in the middle of the Express’s construction path and the project is already in progress. Victoria Hylton, Johannesburg