I'm sitting in the Bamako airport waiting for a delayed flight to take me to Libreville so I can then wait 6 hours and get on another plane to fly back north overnight to Paris, where I will wait again for my flight west to the US and hopefully arrive in Tampa in time to join my parents and brother for Christmas Eve together. But considering I'm still in Africa with some many different flights to potentially go astray, its anyone's guess when I'll actually get home.
I spent the last week in Timbuktu doing aerial photography of the elephant range and mainly waiting for sand storm conditions to clear, which they did only after only after the tired planes and pilots threw in the rag and resumed they journey toward Europe. I was super frustrated by not being able to fully capitalize on my investment here and Mike Fay was pretty pissed too. But the pilots own the planes and can couch any vested interest in getting out of Africa in arguments of safety and aviation law. In the end I got some good and useful photos, but not at the level was shooting for.
I've got to admit its a bit strange being in a predominantly Muslim country in Africa with 95 degree desert conditions. I don't exactly have visions of snow or colored lights or sleigh bells ringing in my head. This should be an interesting transition.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Sunday, December 5, 2004
Birthday Bonfire in Gabon
Last night I celebrated by birthday in firelight on the beach in Gamba. It was an excellent evening with an eclectic circle. Me, Michelle who pulled it all together, Mike the South African large animal vet who was master of the barbeque, Steve the crazy British American elephant ecologist, Mombalame and Mossimbo the Baka Pygmies elephant hunters from Congo, Tumtum and Djobo the Gabonese pygmies from Makuku, Laura and Kevin the oil engineers from the UK, Carolina and Miguel from Spain and France who brought a perfect bottle of Spanish wine, Mark the African musician from the UK with Gabonese singer Pierre and Kentucky-born Australia-living girlfriend Pat, and Tobi the lab manager from Cameroon who gave me a delightful frog necktie. Sitting on sand by the fire, we smoked Cuban cigars from Michelle’s freezer and after a few drinks Mossimbo was trying to speak French with the European ladies. We floated in conversation to the sound of heavy waves rumbling along the wild coastline where elephants and hippos roam.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Return to Gabon
It’s great to be back in Gabon. I was here in February for a photography exhibition and the launch of The Edge of Africa, but this is the first time in 18 months I’ve come with the purpose of making new pictures. I arrived in Libreville early on Sunday morning. After the dizzying flurry of last minute preparations and tying up loose ends at home, my mind was not yet focused on the journey ahead.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Opening Day
Fog clings thick to the pasture and silhouettes of scraggly oaks float in the distance, their branches left ragged from Hurricane Charley. Crimson hues feather the top of the tree line and the mosquitoes swarm thick around my exposed skin. I would say the scene was timeless, a slice of the real Florida that could be a century old, if it weren’t for the almost deafening sound of tractor trailers banging over the railroad tracks in limestone, and then grinding through their gears as they hum to speed down Murphy Road. The noises start south and wrap around the corner to the east, making me feel squeezed by burgeoning humanity, even here. It makes me wonder how long this land and the way of life it breeds can hold on. I wonder if the animals hear the noise coming too.
Last night I was signing books at the Clearwater Library’s Evening with the Authors. To be hunting this morning seems a world away. Next time I attend such an event, I want to be sharing this world with them. In five days I’ll be in Gabon on my next assignment, and then I must return to begin work here at home. Now I need both hands to shed mosquitoes. The sun’s almost rising.
Last night I was signing books at the Clearwater Library’s Evening with the Authors. To be hunting this morning seems a world away. Next time I attend such an event, I want to be sharing this world with them. In five days I’ll be in Gabon on my next assignment, and then I must return to begin work here at home. Now I need both hands to shed mosquitoes. The sun’s almost rising.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Thoughts on Conservation in the Sahel
The Sahel is an ecosystem on edge. It is transitional in its position between tropical West Africa and the Sahara. It is also at a pivotal point in its history where it could continue to degrade into desert if not managed properly. Despite intense pressure by grazing which are pushing the ecosystem close to the point of irreversible damage, they system seems resilient enough at the moment to come back to its former wholeness with proper care.
This creates a remarkable opportunity to protect one of earth's most fascinating and dynamic landscapes before it is too late. Promising conservation initiatives such as the World Bank's Gourma Biodiversity Project seem especially well timed. The demographic situation in the Sahel of Mali is such that conservation efforts can work for the long-term benefit of the wildlife and the people without excessive change in the short-term for the lives of the people. It is not often that win-win situations are so readily available, but in areas like Banzena the population is small enough that relocation plans with compensation can work. The installation of wells at new village sites outside the core conservation areas will ease the burden on existing wetlands and provide a technical solution that can actually work to improve lives of both people and wildlife.
When I first arrived in the Gourma, like some others involved in elephant conservation, I was skeptical about the proposal of relocating people. But now after spending 2 months in the Gourma at the peak of the dry season, studying the landscape, interviewing chiefs, and watching the people, I am convinced that relocation is necessary and is the best solution for all involved. The people of the Gourma, mostly Tuareg and Fulani, are traditionally nomadic and none have been settled in one place for more than 25 years. They are not bound to their current locations like those in most sedentary societies. The idea of relocating to a good grazing site with a well that provides water throughout the dry season should be an attractive alternative for most. The people are very close to the land and are aware of the degradation in recent years. Many I spoke to embrace the idea of conservation. They are not buffered from environmental change by bank accounts and pension plans like many in western nations. They depend directly on nature, thus interest in improved ecosystem health is immediately and directly related to their interest in their own well-being.
The people of the Gourma are at a pivotal point in their history, just as the ecosystem itself. The current cultural context is compatible with present conservation plans, but the window of opportunity will not stay open for long. Capitalist influences lurk around the corner. There are a few young Tuaregs who speed recklessly around Lake Banzena in their new Landcruiser, purchased by their father who owns 10,000 head of cattle in the southern Gourma. They are admired by other young Tuaregs who may have never been in a motor vehicle, while older chiefs scorn them as bandits who are corrupting the balance. One Landcruiser racing around creates enough stress for the precarious dry-season existence of elephants around Banzena, just a foreshadow of trends that will continue without appropriate intervention.
This leads me to thoughts on elephant tourism in the Gourma – an issue that simultaneously brings serious problems as well as hope for elephant conservation. At present, the Gourma elephants are very much afraid of motor vehicles. This I know from experience. One morning I had walked with my guide Mohammed for 3 km from our vehicle to quietly photograph elephants grazing during the day around Balu, 17 km southwest on Banzena. Toward the end of the morning when I had finished my work, we walked more than a kilometer east of the closest elephants and then Mohammed went to get the vehicle. Shortly after he left, a group of 12 bull elephants moved into the valley below me to eat some trees, approximately half a kilometer west. Then 15 minutes later they all started to run north in a cloud of dust and didn't stop until the next valley. It was a full 10 minutes more before I could even hear the sound of the vehicle approaching from the east. But they had apparently heard the small diesel motor long before I could.
It is perplexing to see such massive animals afraid of something they could crush like an empty coke can, especially after witnessing the passive acceptance of vehicles by elephants in other parts of Africa. But the Mali elephants have obviously been harassed and their reaction is appropriate when you consider their history. The Gourma elephants live in a land traversed by camels, not vehicles. Vehicles are alien objects that alarm children, livestock and elephants alike. The elephants do not often see a vehicle and the only time they do they are being chased by it, by reckless ‘guides' trying to bring tourists for a closer look. There is at present no code of conduct or infrastructure to monitor the behavior of guides and the present harassment of elephants by occasional tourists is a major problem.
Yet at the same time tourism offers income for local people and could become a sustainable alternative to overgrazing by livestock. There needs to be a program that enables responsible tourism while protecting the elephants from harassment. It has been suggested that installing blinds for observation at some of the water holes would be an appropriate alternative for viewing without vehicles. I can see how this could work in Inadjatafane where the area is relatively small, but based on my experience it is unlikely to work well in Banzena where the area is vast and it is difficult to predict where the elephants may come to water. Maybe their movements will change with less competition with livestock, but for now they do not often come to water in the daytime. I think installing a few blinds is a good idea, but in order to offer tourists a predictable encounter with elephants, there needs to be more.
I actually think the elephants need to be habituated to motor vehicles. This would involve elephant researchers or conservation officials in one vehicle gradually approaching herds in the daytime until the elephants accept their presence. For this to work, the approach of all other vehicles will have to be eliminated until the elephants become comfortable with visitors. Then a system of certification and monitoring of tourist guides needs to be installed to ensure educated and responsible behavior. The idea of habituating elephants to vehicle is somewhat of a bold suggestion coming from me, someone who does not like to see industrial influence intrude on natural areas. But one must be pragmatic. The presence of vehicles in the Gourma is inevitable with the construction of a new highway linking Douentza with Tombouctou, cutting right through elephant range. Elephants and vehicles must learn to coexist.
Just as implementing other conservation measures, creating a system of sustainable tourism will take time. But its role in my opinion is essential.
Meanwhile I will do all I can to work with the researchers and conservationists to raise awareness for the special population of elephants and the magical landscape of the Sahel.
This creates a remarkable opportunity to protect one of earth's most fascinating and dynamic landscapes before it is too late. Promising conservation initiatives such as the World Bank's Gourma Biodiversity Project seem especially well timed. The demographic situation in the Sahel of Mali is such that conservation efforts can work for the long-term benefit of the wildlife and the people without excessive change in the short-term for the lives of the people. It is not often that win-win situations are so readily available, but in areas like Banzena the population is small enough that relocation plans with compensation can work. The installation of wells at new village sites outside the core conservation areas will ease the burden on existing wetlands and provide a technical solution that can actually work to improve lives of both people and wildlife.
When I first arrived in the Gourma, like some others involved in elephant conservation, I was skeptical about the proposal of relocating people. But now after spending 2 months in the Gourma at the peak of the dry season, studying the landscape, interviewing chiefs, and watching the people, I am convinced that relocation is necessary and is the best solution for all involved. The people of the Gourma, mostly Tuareg and Fulani, are traditionally nomadic and none have been settled in one place for more than 25 years. They are not bound to their current locations like those in most sedentary societies. The idea of relocating to a good grazing site with a well that provides water throughout the dry season should be an attractive alternative for most. The people are very close to the land and are aware of the degradation in recent years. Many I spoke to embrace the idea of conservation. They are not buffered from environmental change by bank accounts and pension plans like many in western nations. They depend directly on nature, thus interest in improved ecosystem health is immediately and directly related to their interest in their own well-being.
The people of the Gourma are at a pivotal point in their history, just as the ecosystem itself. The current cultural context is compatible with present conservation plans, but the window of opportunity will not stay open for long. Capitalist influences lurk around the corner. There are a few young Tuaregs who speed recklessly around Lake Banzena in their new Landcruiser, purchased by their father who owns 10,000 head of cattle in the southern Gourma. They are admired by other young Tuaregs who may have never been in a motor vehicle, while older chiefs scorn them as bandits who are corrupting the balance. One Landcruiser racing around creates enough stress for the precarious dry-season existence of elephants around Banzena, just a foreshadow of trends that will continue without appropriate intervention.
This leads me to thoughts on elephant tourism in the Gourma – an issue that simultaneously brings serious problems as well as hope for elephant conservation. At present, the Gourma elephants are very much afraid of motor vehicles. This I know from experience. One morning I had walked with my guide Mohammed for 3 km from our vehicle to quietly photograph elephants grazing during the day around Balu, 17 km southwest on Banzena. Toward the end of the morning when I had finished my work, we walked more than a kilometer east of the closest elephants and then Mohammed went to get the vehicle. Shortly after he left, a group of 12 bull elephants moved into the valley below me to eat some trees, approximately half a kilometer west. Then 15 minutes later they all started to run north in a cloud of dust and didn't stop until the next valley. It was a full 10 minutes more before I could even hear the sound of the vehicle approaching from the east. But they had apparently heard the small diesel motor long before I could.
It is perplexing to see such massive animals afraid of something they could crush like an empty coke can, especially after witnessing the passive acceptance of vehicles by elephants in other parts of Africa. But the Mali elephants have obviously been harassed and their reaction is appropriate when you consider their history. The Gourma elephants live in a land traversed by camels, not vehicles. Vehicles are alien objects that alarm children, livestock and elephants alike. The elephants do not often see a vehicle and the only time they do they are being chased by it, by reckless ‘guides' trying to bring tourists for a closer look. There is at present no code of conduct or infrastructure to monitor the behavior of guides and the present harassment of elephants by occasional tourists is a major problem.
Yet at the same time tourism offers income for local people and could become a sustainable alternative to overgrazing by livestock. There needs to be a program that enables responsible tourism while protecting the elephants from harassment. It has been suggested that installing blinds for observation at some of the water holes would be an appropriate alternative for viewing without vehicles. I can see how this could work in Inadjatafane where the area is relatively small, but based on my experience it is unlikely to work well in Banzena where the area is vast and it is difficult to predict where the elephants may come to water. Maybe their movements will change with less competition with livestock, but for now they do not often come to water in the daytime. I think installing a few blinds is a good idea, but in order to offer tourists a predictable encounter with elephants, there needs to be more.
I actually think the elephants need to be habituated to motor vehicles. This would involve elephant researchers or conservation officials in one vehicle gradually approaching herds in the daytime until the elephants accept their presence. For this to work, the approach of all other vehicles will have to be eliminated until the elephants become comfortable with visitors. Then a system of certification and monitoring of tourist guides needs to be installed to ensure educated and responsible behavior. The idea of habituating elephants to vehicle is somewhat of a bold suggestion coming from me, someone who does not like to see industrial influence intrude on natural areas. But one must be pragmatic. The presence of vehicles in the Gourma is inevitable with the construction of a new highway linking Douentza with Tombouctou, cutting right through elephant range. Elephants and vehicles must learn to coexist.
Just as implementing other conservation measures, creating a system of sustainable tourism will take time. But its role in my opinion is essential.
Meanwhile I will do all I can to work with the researchers and conservationists to raise awareness for the special population of elephants and the magical landscape of the Sahel.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Road Home
Saturday morning we loaded the truck, said goodbye to the chief and friends, and left Banzena. When we passed Douentza, the sand track turned to pavement. We had exited the Gourma and elephant territory was now behind us. When we started down the narrow strip of asphalt toward Mopti, fatigue descended on me in a way I had not known in my time here. The elephants were deep in forest en route to Burkina Faso and I was headed home. As the truck gained speed, my body downshifted into a lower gear for the first time, and I sank into the seat.
When I awoke a half hour later, the Gourma seemed far away. It is curious the way perspective changes when working in a place like this. You begin the journey with foreign eyes and everything appears new and different. But with time it all becomes normal. The exotic landscape becomes home. Strange foods become routine. The mysterious men behind turbans become simply men. The people you know as driver, guide, guardian, or chief shed their labels for names and become friends. And the elusive elephants that made your heart race when seen from a distance become familiar subjects you approach with steady pulse. What shifting perspectives does to my ability to capture the essence of a story, I am not certain. Surely there are benefits to adjusting comfortably to a new environment. But losing the eyes of an outsider may also cause one to overlook sensational elements or symbols that are important to sharing a story with a foreign audience. Perhaps keeping record of that which captures your attention on first glance is a good tool for allowing one to step in and out of any particular way of seeing.
The road home from the Gourma, the straight black line fringed by streaming hues of amber sand, continued to hypnotize my eyes and turn my gaze. Looking back, I started to recall all the pictures I had made as well as the ones I missed. I began to measure my progress in what is currently the most comprehensive still photographic documentary of the Sahel elephants. I also caught my mind starting thoughts with “next time…”, and I am sure I will be drawn back to finish what I've started.
It has been a privilege to work here in Mali and I gave thanks to all who helped make it possible. In particular, U.S. Ambassador Vicki Huddleston, Vance Martin and the Wild Foundation, Iain-Douglas Hamilton and Save the Elephants, elephant ecologists Richard Barnes and Hemma Emmanuel, Matthew Miller, and Elmehdi and the DNCN of Mali.
When I awoke a half hour later, the Gourma seemed far away. It is curious the way perspective changes when working in a place like this. You begin the journey with foreign eyes and everything appears new and different. But with time it all becomes normal. The exotic landscape becomes home. Strange foods become routine. The mysterious men behind turbans become simply men. The people you know as driver, guide, guardian, or chief shed their labels for names and become friends. And the elusive elephants that made your heart race when seen from a distance become familiar subjects you approach with steady pulse. What shifting perspectives does to my ability to capture the essence of a story, I am not certain. Surely there are benefits to adjusting comfortably to a new environment. But losing the eyes of an outsider may also cause one to overlook sensational elements or symbols that are important to sharing a story with a foreign audience. Perhaps keeping record of that which captures your attention on first glance is a good tool for allowing one to step in and out of any particular way of seeing.
The road home from the Gourma, the straight black line fringed by streaming hues of amber sand, continued to hypnotize my eyes and turn my gaze. Looking back, I started to recall all the pictures I had made as well as the ones I missed. I began to measure my progress in what is currently the most comprehensive still photographic documentary of the Sahel elephants. I also caught my mind starting thoughts with “next time…”, and I am sure I will be drawn back to finish what I've started.
It has been a privilege to work here in Mali and I gave thanks to all who helped make it possible. In particular, U.S. Ambassador Vicki Huddleston, Vance Martin and the Wild Foundation, Iain-Douglas Hamilton and Save the Elephants, elephant ecologists Richard Barnes and Hemma Emmanuel, Matthew Miller, and Elmehdi and the DNCN of Mali.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Dune Camp
I faced the fact that my documentary of the migrating herd was now finished and went back to the dune to consider the options. There were still some elephants in the Norahé forest as smaller groups continued to come from the north, so we spent the next two nights on the dune. I was able to document two groups of elephants, which will be useful to the research team, but they never came into the open plain by daylight for the aerial perspective. I enjoyed the dune camp, nonetheless. There was something powerful and symbolic about the wall of sand that physically divided the landscape (it is the actual boundary between the region of Mopti and the region of Timbuktu) and also marked the transition to the end of work documenting this phase of the migration.
Near the dune I also spent some time with Fulani herdsmen. It was a good compliment to my experience with the Tuaregs by Banzena. The Fulani chief was a kind man named Hama Allé and the village was named after him. He was born there and has been settled there since the installation of the well just over 20 years ago. His herd of cattle now numbers one thousand heads. It was quite nice to see him take tea with Mohammed, my guide and chief from Banzena. Men of different race, they have so much in common. Both formerly nomads, their lives have been shaped by the Sahel. They have been settled for the same number of years and they have both witnessed the same environmental changes which have made the nomadic life more difficult. Both recall when gazelles, giraffes, lions, and hyenas abounded and the sand was covered with grass. Both continue to live with elephants. Both have numerous children who will inherit a land with an uncertain future.
Near the dune I also spent some time with Fulani herdsmen. It was a good compliment to my experience with the Tuaregs by Banzena. The Fulani chief was a kind man named Hama Allé and the village was named after him. He was born there and has been settled there since the installation of the well just over 20 years ago. His herd of cattle now numbers one thousand heads. It was quite nice to see him take tea with Mohammed, my guide and chief from Banzena. Men of different race, they have so much in common. Both formerly nomads, their lives have been shaped by the Sahel. They have been settled for the same number of years and they have both witnessed the same environmental changes which have made the nomadic life more difficult. Both recall when gazelles, giraffes, lions, and hyenas abounded and the sand was covered with grass. Both continue to live with elephants. Both have numerous children who will inherit a land with an uncertain future.
Wednesday, June 9, 2004
Missed Opportunity
The wind came and then the rain came and it did not stop. The gale force gusts tore my tent and snapped a fiberglass tent pole. I stayed in the tent for shelter and to keep in from blowing away, but hardly slept. There was no way to know what the elephants were doing until the morning. At 5:00 am, Mohammed and I traversed the dune looking for tracks. I hoped they were still in the forest below and would give me another chance. But less than a kilometer west of camp we saw their path. It seemed that all the elephants had made the passage in the night. We went after them, but they had already entered the vast Inané forest, which stretches south for more than 25 km. They are practically unapproachable there and if the rains continue they will remain in the forest for as long as a month before moving south into Burkina Faso.
Tuesday, June 8, 2004
Frontier Possibilities
I sit at the crest of the Norahé hondu, or dune of the Norahé forest looking north into the Gourma. There is a great plain that starts at the base of the dune some 25 meters below and runs 2-3 kilometers to the forest where over one hundred elephants are now browsing. I can see two at the edge. The rest are hidden. To the west the sun is 40 minutes above the horizon. To the east gray skies suggest rain, which will be the determining factor in what unfolds in the coming hours. With rain, the elephants should comfortably move into the plain and eventually cross the dune to enter their southern range. Without rain they will wait in the forest for the rain to come. If the water in the forest dries before the next rain, they will move back to Banzena. I hope the rain starts soon and then stops before nightfall. This will give me a chance at an aerial view of elephants moving into the open plain. The wind is now flapping my tent and the temperature is dropping. Time to prepare.
Monday, June 7, 2004
Migration
Sunday night it rained again. So Monday morning I sent a man on a camel to check whether the elephants had remained in Tabarac-Barac forest or had continued south. Upon hearing the news that the all tracks led south out of the forest, we packed up camp and prepared to follow the herd.
Mohammed had an idea of where they were headed, so we took a different route and intersected their tracks about 15 km south of Banzena. When we caught up with them, they were still on the move, now dispersed into smaller family groups spread over several dunes, but still moving south. Again the wind was coming from the same direction as the afternoon sun, so I had no other option than to photograph them backlit against the yellow hills. Before the sun had set, more than 100 elephants had passed before us. We made camp nearby and spent our first night as nomads following the herd.
There is something magical about migration. It requires a dynamic and expansive natural realm without hard boarders, where resources can vary over space and time and animals can move freely to meet their needs for food and water. It represents wilderness, not yet choked by the hands of man.
Mohammed had an idea of where they were headed, so we took a different route and intersected their tracks about 15 km south of Banzena. When we caught up with them, they were still on the move, now dispersed into smaller family groups spread over several dunes, but still moving south. Again the wind was coming from the same direction as the afternoon sun, so I had no other option than to photograph them backlit against the yellow hills. Before the sun had set, more than 100 elephants had passed before us. We made camp nearby and spent our first night as nomads following the herd.
There is something magical about migration. It requires a dynamic and expansive natural realm without hard boarders, where resources can vary over space and time and animals can move freely to meet their needs for food and water. It represents wilderness, not yet choked by the hands of man.
First Rain
Yesterday, everything changed quite dramatically.
Saturday and Sunday, elephants remained near Banzena in the daytime. This made for good photo potential, although the elephants never came to water in the good light of morning or evening. They waited until the sun was high overhead before coming to cool off and drink.
Sunday afternoon, around 3 o'clock, I was at camp preparing to go back into the field when I saw the mountain of dust coming from the east. Most of my equipment was already in watertight cases, so I had a couple of minutes to photograph the approaching storm. This time the dust was followed by rain. Banzena was sandblasted for 15-20 minutes. Then it was pressure washed.
The fierce wind almost tore the door off my little room as I tucked inside to make sure my gear was secure. I had to tie it closed with cord to keep it from breaking its hinges. By then the rain had begun and the ensuing darkness rendered the adobe chamber a blind cave. I located my headlamp so I could search for the Nikon FM I was planning to take out into the rain. It was then that I saw the silhouette of a serpent slithering under the doorway toward my feet. It was also seeking shelter from the storm. But in a space just 5 feet wide my typically passive treatment of such animals gave way to a different set of instincts, and I reached back for the 4-foot long Tuareg sword I had bought in Tombouctou. The chief of Banzena later acknowledged that a bite from the headless animal could be lethal and gave thanks for what I had done.
I grabbed my old camera and headed out into the weather, seeking a picture of the pivotal event. This was the first major rain since the previous summer. After spending some time with the local people, who were scurrying to secure their huts and protect their children, I turned to the bush where I had photographed elephants that morning. It had been raining for less than 20 minutes when I came across their tracks headed south away from the lake. Rainfall had triggered a near instant response and all of the elephants dispersed south, now free from their dependence on the marsh. I ran south following the tracks for a while, but the elephants had already entered the forest of Tabarac-Barac.
Back at camp we loaded the vehicle and went looking to intercept the large group we knew had been hanging around the eastern marsh. When we crested the adjacent dune, they were already lined up in the distance, more than 100 elephants single file, starting their exodus to the southern forest. Unfortunately, the wind was coming from the same direction as the light, so we could not approach closer than a kilometer in the vehicle. I set out on foot and was able to get close enough to make some useful pictures. The elephants were orange with fresh mud and seemed quite happy. In one hour, their environment had been transformed from hostile to hospitable, as shallow pools of cool water now covered the previously parched landscape.
If the rains continue during the next week, this first move south could be the start of the annual migration, which will lead the elephants to the southern fringes of the Gourma and into Burkina Faso.
Saturday and Sunday, elephants remained near Banzena in the daytime. This made for good photo potential, although the elephants never came to water in the good light of morning or evening. They waited until the sun was high overhead before coming to cool off and drink.
Sunday afternoon, around 3 o'clock, I was at camp preparing to go back into the field when I saw the mountain of dust coming from the east. Most of my equipment was already in watertight cases, so I had a couple of minutes to photograph the approaching storm. This time the dust was followed by rain. Banzena was sandblasted for 15-20 minutes. Then it was pressure washed.
The fierce wind almost tore the door off my little room as I tucked inside to make sure my gear was secure. I had to tie it closed with cord to keep it from breaking its hinges. By then the rain had begun and the ensuing darkness rendered the adobe chamber a blind cave. I located my headlamp so I could search for the Nikon FM I was planning to take out into the rain. It was then that I saw the silhouette of a serpent slithering under the doorway toward my feet. It was also seeking shelter from the storm. But in a space just 5 feet wide my typically passive treatment of such animals gave way to a different set of instincts, and I reached back for the 4-foot long Tuareg sword I had bought in Tombouctou. The chief of Banzena later acknowledged that a bite from the headless animal could be lethal and gave thanks for what I had done.
I grabbed my old camera and headed out into the weather, seeking a picture of the pivotal event. This was the first major rain since the previous summer. After spending some time with the local people, who were scurrying to secure their huts and protect their children, I turned to the bush where I had photographed elephants that morning. It had been raining for less than 20 minutes when I came across their tracks headed south away from the lake. Rainfall had triggered a near instant response and all of the elephants dispersed south, now free from their dependence on the marsh. I ran south following the tracks for a while, but the elephants had already entered the forest of Tabarac-Barac.
Back at camp we loaded the vehicle and went looking to intercept the large group we knew had been hanging around the eastern marsh. When we crested the adjacent dune, they were already lined up in the distance, more than 100 elephants single file, starting their exodus to the southern forest. Unfortunately, the wind was coming from the same direction as the light, so we could not approach closer than a kilometer in the vehicle. I set out on foot and was able to get close enough to make some useful pictures. The elephants were orange with fresh mud and seemed quite happy. In one hour, their environment had been transformed from hostile to hospitable, as shallow pools of cool water now covered the previously parched landscape.
If the rains continue during the next week, this first move south could be the start of the annual migration, which will lead the elephants to the southern fringes of the Gourma and into Burkina Faso.
Sunday, June 6, 2004
Moonlighting
I spent two more nights on the roof of the little hut by the water. The weather improved and I slept very well the second night because there were no elephants (aside from a group of 20 which walked by like ghosts after the sun had set and before the moon had risen). Last night, however, the elephants were quite active. I had expected large numbers to converge on western Banzena after nightfall because I traced the tracks of 100+ which had been grazing by day in the dry forest at Balu, some 20 km to the south of Banzena, going without water for 2 days. But as to when the elephants would arrive, I had no idea.
The first wave began splashing and breaking branches at midnight, just a few hundred meters to my east. I could not see them until a group of 20 passed along the rim of the lake below me. They moved with purpose and did not give me much of a chance to make pictures. I squeezed of a few framed from my remotes, but as 30 second exposures with moving subjects and without flash, my expectations are not high. The next wave woke me with splashing at 3:00 am, this time in plain view. The circle of around 30 bathers moved directly offshore to an island. They were out of range of my flashes, which were set for the water's edge, but I did make a few long moonlit exposures with some potential.
There were also a few giants munching trees behind me. This heightened my awareness. At ten feet in the air the ground seemed far below, but I acknowledged that I would be eye to eye with a passing adult, and easily within trunk reach.
All along the photos I really wanted involved a mixture of moonlight and flash, but the elephants never stopped to wallow below me where my equipment was set. They had apparently wallowed there before, but with miles of shoreline to choose from and only two nights of useable moonlight, it was really a shot in the dark. Around 4:30 am, one elephant did walk through the zone and I lit him up. There was no splashing or interesting behavior to document, but at least I will have a single frame of film as a souvenir from the 3-night effort.
The next morning, as if testing my stamina, many elephants remained close to the water. I called camp and the others came to watch as a large group waded from the island to the distant shoreline in silver light.
The first wave began splashing and breaking branches at midnight, just a few hundred meters to my east. I could not see them until a group of 20 passed along the rim of the lake below me. They moved with purpose and did not give me much of a chance to make pictures. I squeezed of a few framed from my remotes, but as 30 second exposures with moving subjects and without flash, my expectations are not high. The next wave woke me with splashing at 3:00 am, this time in plain view. The circle of around 30 bathers moved directly offshore to an island. They were out of range of my flashes, which were set for the water's edge, but I did make a few long moonlit exposures with some potential.
There were also a few giants munching trees behind me. This heightened my awareness. At ten feet in the air the ground seemed far below, but I acknowledged that I would be eye to eye with a passing adult, and easily within trunk reach.
All along the photos I really wanted involved a mixture of moonlight and flash, but the elephants never stopped to wallow below me where my equipment was set. They had apparently wallowed there before, but with miles of shoreline to choose from and only two nights of useable moonlight, it was really a shot in the dark. Around 4:30 am, one elephant did walk through the zone and I lit him up. There was no splashing or interesting behavior to document, but at least I will have a single frame of film as a souvenir from the 3-night effort.
The next morning, as if testing my stamina, many elephants remained close to the water. I called camp and the others came to watch as a large group waded from the island to the distant shoreline in silver light.
Thursday, June 3, 2004
Billowing Inferno
Last night, I spent my first night atop a dilapidated adobe structure beside the lake Banzena, aiming to photograph elephants at the water in the moonlight. About 2 hours after sunset, a thin layer of clouds slid beneath the full moon. I was irritated by the clouds because they cut the available light in half and I was looking toward the eastern horizon for signs that they would blow by.
It was then that I saw it. A black mountain was moving over the trees at an alarming rate. For a moment I was frozen in awe. I was perched precariously before an avalanche of sand being rolled between earth and stratosphere. I didn't know what else it could be. It took me less than a minute to tightly fasten my turban, stuff all of my cameras into their bags, and start descending through the hole in the broken roof. By then the wall of swirling sand was already on top of me. I crouched against the weight of the wind and waited in hopes that it would soon pass. But after an hour my hope faded and I and grew concerned about my remote cameras which were being battered. I called base camp on the radio. When the driver arrived he was painted orange from head to toe and I realized I must look the same.
With no real shelter, no one slept well last night. So when the elephants decided to come to water the next morning for the first time since I've been here, I shot a lot of film but was so tired that I do not remember whether or not I made any good pictures.
It was then that I saw it. A black mountain was moving over the trees at an alarming rate. For a moment I was frozen in awe. I was perched precariously before an avalanche of sand being rolled between earth and stratosphere. I didn't know what else it could be. It took me less than a minute to tightly fasten my turban, stuff all of my cameras into their bags, and start descending through the hole in the broken roof. By then the wall of swirling sand was already on top of me. I crouched against the weight of the wind and waited in hopes that it would soon pass. But after an hour my hope faded and I and grew concerned about my remote cameras which were being battered. I called base camp on the radio. When the driver arrived he was painted orange from head to toe and I realized I must look the same.
With no real shelter, no one slept well last night. So when the elephants decided to come to water the next morning for the first time since I've been here, I shot a lot of film but was so tired that I do not remember whether or not I made any good pictures.
Tuesday, June 1, 2004
Memorial Day
Last night, after more than a week of trying, I finally got a good look at more than 100 elephants crossing the sand between the Tabarac-Barac forest and the Banzena marsh.
I had been hunting them each morning and evening, and was growing tired with my limited success. At the nomad camp, hot sandy winds and boisterous livestock made sleeping especially difficult. Eight nights there eroded my strength to the point of illness. I was spending 23 hours each day preparing for at best 30 minutes with my cameras in my hands. Some of the days elephants came, but usually it was too early or too late to make a picture. Instead I observed them, followed their tracks, and learned their movements.
A week of waiting felt like wasted time. But if the large group of elephants had come through on the first night, I would not have been comfortable approaching them. Last night I felt that I could predict them and I moved within range to shoot 10 rolls of film during 15 minutes of twilight. Sand hung in the air like a fog, obscuring the sun, and the elephants glided like a freight train across the horizon. To stand alone on the sand facing the wall of giants was simply awesome. If I was able to capture just a fraction of their power on film, I will have achieved success.
Several times, the elephants triggered a camera trap I had placed in their path (relocated from its previous position where it had been stepped on). Hopefully the new position will continue to produce pictures in my absence, as I have moved back to the Banzena camp where I will spend the next few nights trying to photograph elephants by moonlight as they come to the marsh. Its 10:30 A.M. here, and now I must sleep to prepare for the nocturnal adventures that await.
I had been hunting them each morning and evening, and was growing tired with my limited success. At the nomad camp, hot sandy winds and boisterous livestock made sleeping especially difficult. Eight nights there eroded my strength to the point of illness. I was spending 23 hours each day preparing for at best 30 minutes with my cameras in my hands. Some of the days elephants came, but usually it was too early or too late to make a picture. Instead I observed them, followed their tracks, and learned their movements.
A week of waiting felt like wasted time. But if the large group of elephants had come through on the first night, I would not have been comfortable approaching them. Last night I felt that I could predict them and I moved within range to shoot 10 rolls of film during 15 minutes of twilight. Sand hung in the air like a fog, obscuring the sun, and the elephants glided like a freight train across the horizon. To stand alone on the sand facing the wall of giants was simply awesome. If I was able to capture just a fraction of their power on film, I will have achieved success.
Several times, the elephants triggered a camera trap I had placed in their path (relocated from its previous position where it had been stepped on). Hopefully the new position will continue to produce pictures in my absence, as I have moved back to the Banzena camp where I will spend the next few nights trying to photograph elephants by moonlight as they come to the marsh. Its 10:30 A.M. here, and now I must sleep to prepare for the nocturnal adventures that await.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Hunting Elephants
My journey to Tombouctou gave me a chance to reflect and refocus. My last day there, I spent a couple of hours floating down the Niger in a pinasse, thinking about the challenges that lie ahead. Since returning to Banzena I have had to shift my expectations even further. The elephants, which remain in large groups, are still not coming to the water in the daytime. In fact, they are spending all of the daylight hours in dense acacia forest, which I cannot safely enter. I have had to accept that I might not even see the elephants by the water in the daylight, and if I do it will be a one-time opportunity. I keep faith that this will happen, but in the meantime I cannot wait for the elephants. I must go after them.
I know that they will come to the water each night, but where they come from and where they go changes each day. Success depends on following their tracks and anticipating their movements. This year the lake and marsh extend for several kilometers and the elephants use all of it at different times. For the past couple of days they have been browsing in the Tabarac Barac forest by day, and then crossing a gap of relatively open sand for the lake at dusk. Last night they waited to cross until it was too dark to make pictures. This morning they returned to the forest under the cover of darkness. Being so close yet so far is frustrating, but at least I know where they are and will continue to pursue them there.
Eager to photograph the crossing, last night I waited behind a tree until all the light was gone. As a result we had to sleep at a nearby Tuareg camp without any of our food or supplies. Elmedhi (who was understandably frustrated by my resistance to leaving earlier) insisted that it was far too dangerous to walk the 1.5 km back to our camp in the darkness. There were far too many elephants converging on the marsh. I probably would have pushed on in the dark, trusting my ability to avoid elephants. But that was before I learned that an elephant killed one of the villagers last year. So I slept in my clothes on a reed bed in a Tuareg camp under the stars.
I expected that I would go without food until the morning, but Muhammed slaughtered a small goat (something he only does when he has a guest because they are too valuable to eat otherwise). Then he brought me a bowl of the prize cuts – boiled liver, pancreas and heart. I ate with my pocketknife and hands under the moonlight, surrounded by curious onlookers. Getting stuck at the Tuareg camp provided a window into a world that I had only seen from a distance, leaving me thankful for the turn of events. I felt welcome as part of the group as I drifted into sleep amongst the family circled on sand. The night passed ephemeral as a dream, punctuated by the scuffling of goats, the rumbling of elephants in all directions, and the occasional scream of the camels when the elephants came to close to camp.
Today it is very hot and that makes me happy because it brings hope the elephants will become thirsty before nightfall. Yesterday I discovered that my light meter has a built in thermometer. Right now it reads 103 degrees. And I am sitting in the cool room where we work and rest during the midday. At least I don't have to worry about my lunch getting cold on the table beside me. Last night, when I laid down to sleep, the temperature under my mosquito net was 95 degrees (and actually feeling comfortable). It is 112 degrees in the room where I store my gear and work. When I put the thermometer in direct sunlight on the sand, it climbed quickly to 141 degrees.
Note that my camera trap is doing some good work for me in the nighttime world of elephants that I myself cannot enter. It has produced 4 rolls of film with some promise of successful pictures. I placed a digital camera on the trail for two nights. See the image gallery for a result.
I know that they will come to the water each night, but where they come from and where they go changes each day. Success depends on following their tracks and anticipating their movements. This year the lake and marsh extend for several kilometers and the elephants use all of it at different times. For the past couple of days they have been browsing in the Tabarac Barac forest by day, and then crossing a gap of relatively open sand for the lake at dusk. Last night they waited to cross until it was too dark to make pictures. This morning they returned to the forest under the cover of darkness. Being so close yet so far is frustrating, but at least I know where they are and will continue to pursue them there.
Eager to photograph the crossing, last night I waited behind a tree until all the light was gone. As a result we had to sleep at a nearby Tuareg camp without any of our food or supplies. Elmedhi (who was understandably frustrated by my resistance to leaving earlier) insisted that it was far too dangerous to walk the 1.5 km back to our camp in the darkness. There were far too many elephants converging on the marsh. I probably would have pushed on in the dark, trusting my ability to avoid elephants. But that was before I learned that an elephant killed one of the villagers last year. So I slept in my clothes on a reed bed in a Tuareg camp under the stars.
I expected that I would go without food until the morning, but Muhammed slaughtered a small goat (something he only does when he has a guest because they are too valuable to eat otherwise). Then he brought me a bowl of the prize cuts – boiled liver, pancreas and heart. I ate with my pocketknife and hands under the moonlight, surrounded by curious onlookers. Getting stuck at the Tuareg camp provided a window into a world that I had only seen from a distance, leaving me thankful for the turn of events. I felt welcome as part of the group as I drifted into sleep amongst the family circled on sand. The night passed ephemeral as a dream, punctuated by the scuffling of goats, the rumbling of elephants in all directions, and the occasional scream of the camels when the elephants came to close to camp.
Today it is very hot and that makes me happy because it brings hope the elephants will become thirsty before nightfall. Yesterday I discovered that my light meter has a built in thermometer. Right now it reads 103 degrees. And I am sitting in the cool room where we work and rest during the midday. At least I don't have to worry about my lunch getting cold on the table beside me. Last night, when I laid down to sleep, the temperature under my mosquito net was 95 degrees (and actually feeling comfortable). It is 112 degrees in the room where I store my gear and work. When I put the thermometer in direct sunlight on the sand, it climbed quickly to 141 degrees.
Note that my camera trap is doing some good work for me in the nighttime world of elephants that I myself cannot enter. It has produced 4 rolls of film with some promise of successful pictures. I placed a digital camera on the trail for two nights. See the image gallery for a result.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Sahara Sands
I am fascinated by the frontier nature of Tombouctou. I made a brief tour of some of the historical and cultural sites, but my main interest has been the interface with the Sahara desert. White dunes flank the city and daytime winds try to fill the streets with sand. To the north, the Sahara stretches all the way to the Mediterranean, and Tombouctou is the last outpost. It is a timeless landscape, where camel caravans disappear into the desert as they have for centuries.
Today, these caravans still connect to Sahara salt mines more than 800 km to the north. The peak of activity is in the winter months when droves of camels line the desert. But even now, in the hottest month of the year, I was able to find 32 camels marching north with one Tuareg in the lead and one at the rear. They were loaded with supplies for the long journey. I walked for a few kilometers along side of them and rode on the lead camel for a brief spell. When I turned around, Tombouctou was obscured by distant dunes. I was surrounded by the Sahara and imagined what it would be like to be walking south as I was after more than a month in the desert. My thirst was already intense after a couple of hours. The first rows of Tuareg houses were a welcome sight when they appeared beyond the sand.
Today, these caravans still connect to Sahara salt mines more than 800 km to the north. The peak of activity is in the winter months when droves of camels line the desert. But even now, in the hottest month of the year, I was able to find 32 camels marching north with one Tuareg in the lead and one at the rear. They were loaded with supplies for the long journey. I walked for a few kilometers along side of them and rode on the lead camel for a brief spell. When I turned around, Tombouctou was obscured by distant dunes. I was surrounded by the Sahara and imagined what it would be like to be walking south as I was after more than a month in the desert. My thirst was already intense after a couple of hours. The first rows of Tuareg houses were a welcome sight when they appeared beyond the sand.
Monday, May 17, 2004
To Tombouctou
Monday I set off for Tombouctou, deciding it was best for me to make this trip now rather than at the end of my stay when the elephants are more likely to congregate by water in the daylight. The other researchers have gone to Inadjatafane for a few days, giving the elephants at Banzena a short break from our presence. I am hopeful that when I return to the Sahel, the elephants will be more cooperative. I have extended my time in Mali by a couple of weeks to improve my chances.
To those of us in the western world, ‘Timbuktu' usually conjures up notions of distance and isolation. So it was quite strange to know it would be just a 4-hour drive from my Sahel camp and much more connected to the modern world. In the 1300s, Tombouctou was a great center of commerce and culture, and it is now the regional capital. I will stay 3 nights in a hotel, make some pictures, get some rest, and gather my thoughts for my final weeks of work.
To those of us in the western world, ‘Timbuktu' usually conjures up notions of distance and isolation. So it was quite strange to know it would be just a 4-hour drive from my Sahel camp and much more connected to the modern world. In the 1300s, Tombouctou was a great center of commerce and culture, and it is now the regional capital. I will stay 3 nights in a hotel, make some pictures, get some rest, and gather my thoughts for my final weeks of work.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Mopti - A Brief Change in Place
By last Thursday, the restless routine of 2 ½ weeks working in the desert was starting to take its toll on me. Here there are not rainy days to give a photographer a chance to sleep on it, I had been getting up everyday at 4:30a.m. to chase the light. When the opportunity came on Friday to go with one of our trucks to Mopti for service, I decided to step away for a night and gain some perspective. I realized I have been working with a rather limited concept of Mali as a country. I had gone directly from the USA to Inadjatafane, from civilization to Sahel.
Mopti is considered Mali's most colorful port town. It sits on the Bani River at its confluence with the Niger, between Bamako and Timbouctu. The drive from Banzena took 5 hours. In tourist season, Mopti is well visited by westerners and has a couple of nice hotels. I treated myself to air-conditioning, a swim in a pool, and a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Now I am back in the bush, and contrary to my initial suspicions, partaking in the accoutrements of civilization has not ruined my conditioning to the desert environment. In fact I should have had more ice
cream (or anything else cold) while I had the chance.
Friday evening I hired a pinasse to explore the rivers and photograph life along the banks. It was quite nice and I would like to spend more time working there someday. Saturday I went walking along the river pre-dawn and made more pictures of the cool blue vein bringing life to the desert.
While I was away, my camera trap had some promising hits, which will hopefully turn out to be elephants and not goats or donkeys.
Mopti is considered Mali's most colorful port town. It sits on the Bani River at its confluence with the Niger, between Bamako and Timbouctu. The drive from Banzena took 5 hours. In tourist season, Mopti is well visited by westerners and has a couple of nice hotels. I treated myself to air-conditioning, a swim in a pool, and a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Now I am back in the bush, and contrary to my initial suspicions, partaking in the accoutrements of civilization has not ruined my conditioning to the desert environment. In fact I should have had more ice
cream (or anything else cold) while I had the chance.
Friday evening I hired a pinasse to explore the rivers and photograph life along the banks. It was quite nice and I would like to spend more time working there someday. Saturday I went walking along the river pre-dawn and made more pictures of the cool blue vein bringing life to the desert.
While I was away, my camera trap had some promising hits, which will hopefully turn out to be elephants and not goats or donkeys.
Monday, May 10, 2004
These Elephants
These Elephants are different other elephants. There are obvious differences, such as being the last population in the Sahel, making the longest known migrations of all land animals, and having relatively small tusks. And there are also many nuances, making them especially difficult to photograph.
For example, these elephants come together in large groups during the dry season (now), in the same conditions where other African elephants would be dispersing in small groups. And mentioned in a previous entry, the large groups here are difficult and dangerous to approach. These elephants are also very afraid of vehicles. They do not see vehicles often, and when they do, it is occasional tourists harassing them. When you come too close in a vehicle, not only are they scared away; their behavior patterns are known to change for a number of days. As a result, you can only approach the elephants on foot. This is opposite to the situation in East Africa or South Africa, where elephants are often well habituated to vehicles. These elephants are also wary of outsiders such as myself (a turban can help my look but doesn't change my smell).
Another challenge is that these elephants only come to the water to drink at night, when I cannot make useful pictures (and the moon will not be full for another 3 weeks). The competition with livestock and herders is too intense during the day and the elephants will only face this situation when they become desperate. This may happen as the heat of May presses on, but will not likely take place for another 2 weeks.
For example, these elephants come together in large groups during the dry season (now), in the same conditions where other African elephants would be dispersing in small groups. And mentioned in a previous entry, the large groups here are difficult and dangerous to approach. These elephants are also very afraid of vehicles. They do not see vehicles often, and when they do, it is occasional tourists harassing them. When you come too close in a vehicle, not only are they scared away; their behavior patterns are known to change for a number of days. As a result, you can only approach the elephants on foot. This is opposite to the situation in East Africa or South Africa, where elephants are often well habituated to vehicles. These elephants are also wary of outsiders such as myself (a turban can help my look but doesn't change my smell).
Another challenge is that these elephants only come to the water to drink at night, when I cannot make useful pictures (and the moon will not be full for another 3 weeks). The competition with livestock and herders is too intense during the day and the elephants will only face this situation when they become desperate. This may happen as the heat of May presses on, but will not likely take place for another 2 weeks.
Sunday, May 9, 2004
Settling In
It's Sunday night. Tomorrow will make one week in the field for me and I am starting to figure a few things out. I search for elephants each morning and evening and return to camp to organize and rest during the grueling midday.
We have had nice weather the past 3 days, giving a small break in the temperature (last night I was comfortable while fully covered by my sheet), and providing exceptionally clear skies. The first day of the clear weather I discovered for the first time that there is an impressive rock escarpment on the horizon some 60 km to the south. I hope the good weather continues, but I get the feeling it is just a small teaser of tolerable conditions before the Harmattan starts to blow again, sand fills the air, and May earns its reputation as the hottest month of the year.
There is still some residual water in some of the outlying low areas and the Banzena swamp itself is quite full. It could be up to two weeks before the elephants really need to concentrate by the water in the daytime. Lately they have been able to hold out in the surrounding scrub and come to the lake under the cover of darkness. Last night there was an army of elephants quite close to the camp, rustling trees, growling, splashing and trumpeting. Unable to make photos, I recorded their sounds with a video camera.
This afternoon I set up a camera trap on a trail well worn by elephants. The on site preparations took about 2 hours and just as I had loaded the film and started the final test, an elephant started coming down the trail. We gathered our things in a hurry and backed away to watch. It was quite suspenseful to see the animal approach the section of trail where the camera was waiting. I was hoping to see my flashes go off in the twilight, but the elephant stopped and deviated right just before the camera. Our scent was too fresh in the area. The scent will fade and others elephants will come soon enough.
Richard and Emmanuel, the researchers for the elephant ID project, went to town today to get supplies and new tires for the Toyota. The trucks are equipped with light-duty tires and as a result we are suffering an average of one flat tire per day per vehicle. Each vehicle carries 2 complete spares and there are some days we have gone through both. The drivers, Ibraham and Papa, have against their will become experts in tire service. Some punctures are inevitable in acacia country, but daily punctures can be demoralizing. Aiming to keep spirits high in camp, this evening I bought a goat from a local herder and brought it home for dinner.
We have had nice weather the past 3 days, giving a small break in the temperature (last night I was comfortable while fully covered by my sheet), and providing exceptionally clear skies. The first day of the clear weather I discovered for the first time that there is an impressive rock escarpment on the horizon some 60 km to the south. I hope the good weather continues, but I get the feeling it is just a small teaser of tolerable conditions before the Harmattan starts to blow again, sand fills the air, and May earns its reputation as the hottest month of the year.
There is still some residual water in some of the outlying low areas and the Banzena swamp itself is quite full. It could be up to two weeks before the elephants really need to concentrate by the water in the daytime. Lately they have been able to hold out in the surrounding scrub and come to the lake under the cover of darkness. Last night there was an army of elephants quite close to the camp, rustling trees, growling, splashing and trumpeting. Unable to make photos, I recorded their sounds with a video camera.
This afternoon I set up a camera trap on a trail well worn by elephants. The on site preparations took about 2 hours and just as I had loaded the film and started the final test, an elephant started coming down the trail. We gathered our things in a hurry and backed away to watch. It was quite suspenseful to see the animal approach the section of trail where the camera was waiting. I was hoping to see my flashes go off in the twilight, but the elephant stopped and deviated right just before the camera. Our scent was too fresh in the area. The scent will fade and others elephants will come soon enough.
Richard and Emmanuel, the researchers for the elephant ID project, went to town today to get supplies and new tires for the Toyota. The trucks are equipped with light-duty tires and as a result we are suffering an average of one flat tire per day per vehicle. Each vehicle carries 2 complete spares and there are some days we have gone through both. The drivers, Ibraham and Papa, have against their will become experts in tire service. Some punctures are inevitable in acacia country, but daily punctures can be demoralizing. Aiming to keep spirits high in camp, this evening I bought a goat from a local herder and brought it home for dinner.
Wednesday, May 5, 2004
Banzena
We have been camped at Banzena for 3 nights now. It is an amazing place – a lake and vast marsh surrounded by harsh desert. To walk over a parched yellow sand dune and see for the first time the greens and blues of an improbable wetland is striking. Banzena is the quintessential desert oasis.
Last years rains were very strong, so the lake contains more water than normal.
Toureg nomads and their numerous livestock depend on this place; so do the elephants. The water sustains all life here and we are expecting the elephants to congregate as we enter the driest month of the year. But one night last week there was uncharacteristic and unexpected rainfall, which filled low-lying areas with water. As a result, the elephants have been able to browse at a greater distance from the lake. This morning I observed approximately 100 elephants moving along the scrub to the east of the lake. We have been observing elephants there since Monday and their numbers seem to be increasing. The outlying puddles are drying fast and we predict that the elephants will converge on the main Banzena marsh with in the week.
Photographing the elephants here has been difficult thus far. Large groups with young calves are dangerous to approach and it is often not possible to approach the main group because doing so would require close proximity to individual males acting as scouts. I will work during the next few days to make overall pictures of the groups east of the marsh, but will wait until the elephants come to the water to make closer pictures.
I am continuing to acclimate to this environment and am finally reaching a point where I can focus more clearly. I suffered mild heat exhaustion Monday and Tuesday after working through the mid-day hours, but have now adjusted my schedule to ease the burden of this place (which can still be quite heavy). Yesterday morning I had an acacia spine pierce the sole of my shoe and go one full inch into the ball of my right foot. It effectively pinned my shoe in place. Removing the shoe and the spine from my foot took considerable force, but the wound has healed rather nicely. I have been sleeping well lately, but last night the winds were blowing, turning the slow cooking of the night into convection baking.
I have not taken any digital photos lately, but I will try to send a few to represent the area in the next week.
Evening Update: This evening, I witnessed a phenomenal natural history event, unique to the world and perhaps the most spectacular I have ever seen, as more than 100 (and possibly 200) elephants crossed a grass clearing en route to the Banzena marsh. These numbers represent approximately half the known population for all of Mali (a country as big as Colorado and Texas combined), coming together here at a swamp in the desert. I could not approach as closely as I wouldI have liked for risk of endangering myself, and more importantly the other researchers. But I did make some strong images. I will try to put a digital sample on the site.
Last years rains were very strong, so the lake contains more water than normal.
Toureg nomads and their numerous livestock depend on this place; so do the elephants. The water sustains all life here and we are expecting the elephants to congregate as we enter the driest month of the year. But one night last week there was uncharacteristic and unexpected rainfall, which filled low-lying areas with water. As a result, the elephants have been able to browse at a greater distance from the lake. This morning I observed approximately 100 elephants moving along the scrub to the east of the lake. We have been observing elephants there since Monday and their numbers seem to be increasing. The outlying puddles are drying fast and we predict that the elephants will converge on the main Banzena marsh with in the week.
Photographing the elephants here has been difficult thus far. Large groups with young calves are dangerous to approach and it is often not possible to approach the main group because doing so would require close proximity to individual males acting as scouts. I will work during the next few days to make overall pictures of the groups east of the marsh, but will wait until the elephants come to the water to make closer pictures.
I am continuing to acclimate to this environment and am finally reaching a point where I can focus more clearly. I suffered mild heat exhaustion Monday and Tuesday after working through the mid-day hours, but have now adjusted my schedule to ease the burden of this place (which can still be quite heavy). Yesterday morning I had an acacia spine pierce the sole of my shoe and go one full inch into the ball of my right foot. It effectively pinned my shoe in place. Removing the shoe and the spine from my foot took considerable force, but the wound has healed rather nicely. I have been sleeping well lately, but last night the winds were blowing, turning the slow cooking of the night into convection baking.
I have not taken any digital photos lately, but I will try to send a few to represent the area in the next week.
Evening Update: This evening, I witnessed a phenomenal natural history event, unique to the world and perhaps the most spectacular I have ever seen, as more than 100 (and possibly 200) elephants crossed a grass clearing en route to the Banzena marsh. These numbers represent approximately half the known population for all of Mali (a country as big as Colorado and Texas combined), coming together here at a swamp in the desert. I could not approach as closely as I wouldI have liked for risk of endangering myself, and more importantly the other researchers. But I did make some strong images. I will try to put a digital sample on the site.
Saturday, May 1, 2004
Moving On
We think the elephants here have moved west to Banzena, where there is a lake that holds water year-round. Elephants are known to congregate there in May, the driest month of the year, and I have high hopes of photographing them there. Banzena is two hours west of Inadjatafane. We will start our move in the morning.
To be more specific on our location, Banzena (there is no town) is about 12 hours northeast of Bamako and a couple of hours north of Douentza. The Gourma region, range of the desert elephants and the general location of all of my work in Mali, is defined as the area south of the bend in the Niger River between Mopti and Gao.
If the elephants are indeed moving to Banzena, they should continue to arrive during our time there and we could end up setting camp for a couple of weeks. That will be ideal, allowing me to work one area in more depth, setting up a remote camera and having more opportunity to document unique moments of elephant behavior. We find out soon enough.
Today I bought a turban from a small Toureg market where the nomads gather on Saturday. In addition to protecting me from blowing sands, Elmehdi said I will be camouflaged like the locals and the elephants should be more accepting of me. There is also the chance he just wanted to see me in a purple head wrap.
I will write again from Banzena, hopefully with good news, though it may be several days.
To be more specific on our location, Banzena (there is no town) is about 12 hours northeast of Bamako and a couple of hours north of Douentza. The Gourma region, range of the desert elephants and the general location of all of my work in Mali, is defined as the area south of the bend in the Niger River between Mopti and Gao.
If the elephants are indeed moving to Banzena, they should continue to arrive during our time there and we could end up setting camp for a couple of weeks. That will be ideal, allowing me to work one area in more depth, setting up a remote camera and having more opportunity to document unique moments of elephant behavior. We find out soon enough.
Today I bought a turban from a small Toureg market where the nomads gather on Saturday. In addition to protecting me from blowing sands, Elmehdi said I will be camouflaged like the locals and the elephants should be more accepting of me. There is also the chance he just wanted to see me in a purple head wrap.
I will write again from Banzena, hopefully with good news, though it may be several days.
Friday, April 30, 2004
Contrasts
It seems that each day I find something new that reminds me how hot it is here. The other day I found my main tube of toothpaste, which had been lost in my bag since Bamako. It must have experienced thermal breakdown; if Colgate saw the way it flows here they would not have called it paste. Then last night my bucket bath was very hot to the skin (kind of nice) and the cook insisted it had not been heated. Though I may not experience a single cool sensation until I board the airplane, I am finally starting to acclimate. Maybe my lifeguard days of stubborn
rebellion against air conditioning are paying off. Last night I slept straight through until dawn and today I have more typical energy and focus. At 2 pm it's still too hot to work, so I have a chance to write.
I remain in Inadjatafane and will be based here until Sunday. In a place where landscape and culture seem to blend so harmoniously, there exists strong elements of contrast: a single figure floating across sand with no starting point or destination or source of water in sight, a pool of water persisting improbably into the driest month, or an elephant browsing from a tree with domestic goats and donkeys passing in the foreground. But the greatest contrast here in Inadjatafane must be me.
The other afternoon, returning from the field in one of the project's two white Toyota pickups, we passed a Toureg child who jumped and ran to hide behind a small acacia. Elmehedi told me the child had never seen a vehicle. So what must people here think of me with high-tech cameras strung around my neck and a digital camera that can capture and display an image instantly? Or a computer that allows me to share photos made in the field on the same day? Or a satellite telephone that sits beside my head while I stand in the open and talk to myself? In a place not yet corrupted by material culture, I feel somewhat heavy under the load of my life's complexities, not to mention the weight of my gear. There is a lot for the western world to learn from the strength and simplicity of the people here.
rebellion against air conditioning are paying off. Last night I slept straight through until dawn and today I have more typical energy and focus. At 2 pm it's still too hot to work, so I have a chance to write.
I remain in Inadjatafane and will be based here until Sunday. In a place where landscape and culture seem to blend so harmoniously, there exists strong elements of contrast: a single figure floating across sand with no starting point or destination or source of water in sight, a pool of water persisting improbably into the driest month, or an elephant browsing from a tree with domestic goats and donkeys passing in the foreground. But the greatest contrast here in Inadjatafane must be me.
The other afternoon, returning from the field in one of the project's two white Toyota pickups, we passed a Toureg child who jumped and ran to hide behind a small acacia. Elmehedi told me the child had never seen a vehicle. So what must people here think of me with high-tech cameras strung around my neck and a digital camera that can capture and display an image instantly? Or a computer that allows me to share photos made in the field on the same day? Or a satellite telephone that sits beside my head while I stand in the open and talk to myself? In a place not yet corrupted by material culture, I feel somewhat heavy under the load of my life's complexities, not to mention the weight of my gear. There is a lot for the western world to learn from the strength and simplicity of the people here.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Inadjatafane
Its 2 pm and I am under a hut seeking refuge from the blazing heat. I think I am starting to acclimate to this environment, but it would be dangerous to be in the field right now. Water stays so hot in the shade you can make tea in a water bottle about 5 minutes without sunlight. For some reason, hot tea tastes better than hot water. I am set up in the small Toureg village of Inadjatafane (not even on the Mali map), where I met up with the elephant researchers Monday night. It was a hard, 12 hour drive north from Bamako, the last 4 hours on dirt. I drove with a nice guy named Chris - US army communications on assignment from Germany.
The terrain is like nothing I have experienced (though in some ways similar to central Australia plus an element of what I'd expect to see in Afghanistan). There are thorny acacia trees scattered across the sand. The otherwise featureless landscape is enlivened by the occasional goat herder or camel caravan. There are a few remnant pockets of water in low-lying areas left over from last year's rains. They are drying up quickly and will continue to do so until the rains come again in several weeks. Meanwhile, the shallow pools sustain all life here – people, livestock and the elephants which have migrated here.
This morning I photographed a group of seven elephants we found at the edge of a nearby marsh. It was quite exhilarating, as the animals are twice the size of their cousins I am used to seeing in central Africa. These elephants were mostly facing away from me (and from the light), but I could not safely circle up wind of them to photograph them head on. They can become quite aggressive when they smell an intruder.
With me were 2 local trackers and Elmede, an experienced officer from the local department of nature conservation. Dr. Barnes and the others have taken one of the pickups to the town of Mopti for supplies and will return here tomorrow night. Meanwhile I will take advantage of the time to get familiar with this place and to photograph the local people, who in many ways are more captivating than the elephants (at this location). The people live very close to the land and are especially peaceful and kind. Most are devoutly Muslim and pray regularly. Their bright colors are striking against the drab desert background.
I will be here in Inadjatafane at least through Friday, and after several days I hope to explore Lake Banzena, a couple of hours to the West. If there are concentrations of elephants there I will stay as long as I can. I would like to work in one place for a while so I can set up remotes and begin to document more behavior and interactions.
Time has been passing slowly here, though I expect it to speed up, especially as I begin to sleep normally. Lying above the sand and beneath the open sky is a new thing. Last night I woke several times with an extremely dry mouth and once from blowing sands that were blasting my side. As desperation is the mother of invention, I solved my breathing problem by sleeping with a wet t-shirt over my face. I will continue to adjust and by the time I come home I expect air conditioning to make me shiver.
I have been shooting mostly film thus far, but will try to make a few digital frames to upload to the site. Well the light is starting to soften and I must get ready for my afternoon session…..
The terrain is like nothing I have experienced (though in some ways similar to central Australia plus an element of what I'd expect to see in Afghanistan). There are thorny acacia trees scattered across the sand. The otherwise featureless landscape is enlivened by the occasional goat herder or camel caravan. There are a few remnant pockets of water in low-lying areas left over from last year's rains. They are drying up quickly and will continue to do so until the rains come again in several weeks. Meanwhile, the shallow pools sustain all life here – people, livestock and the elephants which have migrated here.
This morning I photographed a group of seven elephants we found at the edge of a nearby marsh. It was quite exhilarating, as the animals are twice the size of their cousins I am used to seeing in central Africa. These elephants were mostly facing away from me (and from the light), but I could not safely circle up wind of them to photograph them head on. They can become quite aggressive when they smell an intruder.
With me were 2 local trackers and Elmede, an experienced officer from the local department of nature conservation. Dr. Barnes and the others have taken one of the pickups to the town of Mopti for supplies and will return here tomorrow night. Meanwhile I will take advantage of the time to get familiar with this place and to photograph the local people, who in many ways are more captivating than the elephants (at this location). The people live very close to the land and are especially peaceful and kind. Most are devoutly Muslim and pray regularly. Their bright colors are striking against the drab desert background.
I will be here in Inadjatafane at least through Friday, and after several days I hope to explore Lake Banzena, a couple of hours to the West. If there are concentrations of elephants there I will stay as long as I can. I would like to work in one place for a while so I can set up remotes and begin to document more behavior and interactions.
Time has been passing slowly here, though I expect it to speed up, especially as I begin to sleep normally. Lying above the sand and beneath the open sky is a new thing. Last night I woke several times with an extremely dry mouth and once from blowing sands that were blasting my side. As desperation is the mother of invention, I solved my breathing problem by sleeping with a wet t-shirt over my face. I will continue to adjust and by the time I come home I expect air conditioning to make me shiver.
I have been shooting mostly film thus far, but will try to make a few digital frames to upload to the site. Well the light is starting to soften and I must get ready for my afternoon session…..
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Bamako
Last night, when I came around the corner to exit the airplane, a hot breeze hit me in the face and reminded me that I was somewhere new. It is hot here, and the air smells like it does in Florida when the forest is burning. Only here there is no fire. It's just the dry season at the edge of the Sahara and the earth is parched.
Everything has gone smoothly so far. My last 36 hours in Tampa were a bit rough, and I didn't sleep a single minute before my departure. But now all is well and the trip here seemed easy. Perhaps I'm getting used to the Africa commute. Matt Miller, an economics officer with the US embassy, met me at the airport and brought me to the ambassador's residence. I am staying in the Chambre Carter, built for a presidential visit in the 80's. The ambassador and her husband have been very kind and she is a real champion of elephant conservation here in Mali. Tomorrow we head north to Gourma, the region of Sahel just below a large bend in the Niger River. There the elephants should be gathered by a few remnant waterholes key to their survival in the dry months. We leave at 5 am for a 10-hour drive. There will be 3 Land Cruisers in the caravan. Our goal is to meet leading elephant researcher, Richard Barnes, at Inadjatafane by nightfall.
This is my last moment with AC power and phone line (not to mention air conditioning and a bed). From here out it will be solar power and a sat phone and a cot on the desert floor..
More in a few days…
Everything has gone smoothly so far. My last 36 hours in Tampa were a bit rough, and I didn't sleep a single minute before my departure. But now all is well and the trip here seemed easy. Perhaps I'm getting used to the Africa commute. Matt Miller, an economics officer with the US embassy, met me at the airport and brought me to the ambassador's residence. I am staying in the Chambre Carter, built for a presidential visit in the 80's. The ambassador and her husband have been very kind and she is a real champion of elephant conservation here in Mali. Tomorrow we head north to Gourma, the region of Sahel just below a large bend in the Niger River. There the elephants should be gathered by a few remnant waterholes key to their survival in the dry months. We leave at 5 am for a 10-hour drive. There will be 3 Land Cruisers in the caravan. Our goal is to meet leading elephant researcher, Richard Barnes, at Inadjatafane by nightfall.
This is my last moment with AC power and phone line (not to mention air conditioning and a bed). From here out it will be solar power and a sat phone and a cot on the desert floor..
More in a few days…
Friday, April 23, 2004
Mali Elephants
For my current project I am traveling in the Sahel region of Mali, at the edge of the Sahara, near Tombouctou. I will be photographing endangered desert elephants - the last population in West Africa. My work will complement groundbreaking research and conservation efforts by The Wild Foundation, Save the Elephants, USAID and the Mali government.
I will post occasional updates from the field via sat phone as well as a few digital images to my website. Because I am primarily shooting film for this project, most of the photographs will not be available for viewing until after I return to the states.
I will post occasional updates from the field via sat phone as well as a few digital images to my website. Because I am primarily shooting film for this project, most of the photographs will not be available for viewing until after I return to the states.
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