by Brian Jackman, Telegraph (2008)
To woo back visitors, Kenya must learn
from a new private wildlife santuary, says Brian Jackman.
In January, at the height of Kenya's post-election turmoil, I
flew to the Maasai Mara game reserve. The Foreign Office advice
was to stay away, but I called friends in Nairobi and their message
was unequivocal. "Get on the plane," they said. "You'll
be fine in the Mara."
And so I was. With tourism reduced to a trickle, there never was
a better time to visit East Africa's most popular wildlife stronghold.
This was how the Mara used to be in its age of innocence three
decades ago. Cruising the savannah from dawn to dusk, I hardly
saw another vehicle. On the other hand, the plains were thick
with game.
In the wake of December rains, thousands of zebras and wildebeest
had moved in from the Loita Hills and the big cats were out in
force. In two days I saw 30 lions, seven cheetahs and three leopards
- and no one else was around.
No wonder the BBC chose the Mara when filming its long-running
Big at Diary series. But being the predator capital of the planet
comes at a price: the reserve has become too popular for its own
good and, in normal times when the camps are full, there would
have been vehicles all over the place, converging like vultures
whenever a cat was located.
Amid all the gloom, one initiative stands out like a beacon of
hope, not just for the Mara but also for wildlife all over Africa.
Three years ago, at the request of a local Maasai chief, 23,000
acres of pristine savannah on the reserve's northern border were
set aside as a private wildlife sanctuary.
The Olare Orok Conservancy consists of 184 plots of freehold
land whose owners have agreed to remove their cattle in return
for a more generous income generated by high-end eco-tourism.
There are no fences and the savannah inside the conservancy is
indistinguishable from the adjoining reserve, with giraffes, elephants
and zebras moving freely among scattered flat-topped acacias -
only the minibuses are absent.
The deal was brokered by Ron Beaton , a game warden's son who
has spent most of his life in the Mara, and Jake Grieves-Cook
, spokesman for the Kenya Tourism Federation and owner of Porini
Lion Camp , one of the four low-impact bush camps allowed on the
conservancy.
"These private wildlife conservancies are the way forward,"
says Grieves-Cook. "They give the Maasai a better income
than they could ever earn from cultivation and we are very strict
about visitor numbers, with no more than one tourist bed for every
700 acres of conservancy land."
Wildlife inside the conservancy has also benefited. "We now
have two resident lion prides, five leopards and regular cheetah
sightings," says Beaton, "and this all goes down well
with our visitors. They enjoy watching lions without jostling
minibuses disturbing the peace they have come to enjoy."
During the dry season, these last unfenced rangelands of the Greater
Mara become a vital dispersal area for wildebeest. They form an
area bigger than the reserve itself and, without schemes such
as the Olare Orok Conservancy, Grieves-Cook believes that the
Mara ecosystem cannot survive.
When tourism resumes, as it undoubtedly will, perhaps the government
will see that privatising wild land, as the Olare Orok Conservancy
has done, holds out the best hope for saving its wildlife.
Why should I care what happens? Because this was where my love
affair with Africa was born. This was where I saw my first lion.
Even now, in spite of everything, if I could make only one last
safari I would head for the Mara.
There, from the riverine forests of the Mara River, I would drive
across the wind-blown grasslands of Paradise Plain to the stony
heights of Rhino Ridge. From there you can see it all: a cheetah's-eye
view of grazing herds and solemn giraffes, of sunlight and cloud
shadow, elephants slow-marching along immense skylines, lion kills
wrapped in shrouds of vultures and the faraway slopes of the Oloololo
escarpment.
This is how to make the best of it. First, spend a few days at
Little Governors' Camp to get the cats out of your system. You
want to find lion, leopard and cheetah? No problem. Yes, you will
see other vehicles, but the camp itself enjoys an unrivalled location.
Access is by ferry across the Mara River and its 17 tents are
spaced around a sleepy lagoon, a natural theatre-in-the-round
where elephants, waterbucks and gorgeous crowned cranes all have
regular walk-on parts.
Move on to Kicheche Bush Camp in the Olare Orok Conservancy.
"The smartest address in the Mara," Paul Goldstein,
its British-based owner, boasts, and who could disagree? It caters
for no more than 12 guests at a time and vehicles from the reserve
are not allowed in, although there is nothing to stop you entering
the reserve provided you pay your park fees.
What you get here is an authentic taste of exclusive Africa. Hidden
among acacia glades, this is a purists' camp and its luxuries
- spacious tents with en suite bathrooms and bags of space for
clothes - in no way detract from the essential wilderness experience.
When I was there we had elephants and buffaloes wandering past
every day and lions roaring every night.
The song of the lion is not only the most thrilling sound to be
heard in Africa; it is also a sign that the savannah is in good
shape. If Kenya is to woo back its visitors, it should look hard
at what has been achieved at Olare Orok.
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