When scanning some old slides from back in 1994, I stumbled upon pictures from Rubondo Island. The time I spent there was fabulous. I was given the opportunity to do some research with Chimpanzees (I studied Biology) and live my Robinson life on a beautiful Island. However, some experiences where not only unique in their nature but made me think a lot these days. This is one such story that I would like to share with you. I first published this „Little Story“ on Flickr, a photo-sharing website - needless to say that this is not about "nice pictures", this is all about real life in one of the poorest areas in the world, it is about contrast, about conflicting priorities and about difficulties to understand foreign cultures.
Introduction
Back in 1994 I had my little project with Chimpanzee that made me go to Rubondo Island on Lake Victoria. I stayed on the Island for 3 months researching a Chimpanzee population on the Island. As we had some issues with the authorities I was flown to the island on a small airplane. The pilot dropped me there and said "see you again same place same time in 4 months!" - there I was all by myself at the beginning of an incredible time I will never want to miss. At that time, the island and National Park, approx. 240sqkm was not inhabited by humans except of some park rangers living in three stations not far from "my camp".
Setting off ... One morning, I guess it was in my 2nd month on the Island, I was invited to join the rangers on what the said to be a "special tour". My Swahili was more or less nonexistent and their English wasn't better either. Hence, communicating was difficult. Hence, I did not really know what we were going to do. But I certainly realized, it must be important as they usually had not fuel available for the boats (which was one of the reasons, why I could not go to the mainland to stock up food but lost some 15kg of body weight during my time on the island - but this is another story). I was told that fishing in a certain zone around the Island was prohibited and considered "poaching" (as well as hunting on the island of course). None the less, with Lake Victoria suffering from a rapidly declining fish population (also as a result of introducing the Nile Perch which destabilized the existing fish population, read more here ) and hence, fishermen of the surrounding villages not having enough food, poaching around the Island was observed very frequently.
Often, local fishermen sailed to the island for fishing and in order to avoid discovery hided their boat and themselves in the forest on shore of the island.
A couple of days before we set of four our trip, the rangers discovered one such boat, seized it and expected the poachers to escape on a raft. This was, how I ended up on this boat.
Escaping by Raft ... For about an hour the rangers cruised along the eastern coast line of the island when they suddenly spotted the poachers on a scanty raft paddling for their life. The steersman immediately throttled engines and seeing my surprised face he explained why he did so: "let them row for a while before we catch them. That makes them tired before we reach them". I was perplex. Lake victory is known for crocodiles and basically sitting in the water paddling on a raft is very dangerous. In addition, the raft could fall apart any seconds and the locals usually do not know to swim. But, starting a discussion about the "tactics" of the ranger was impossible. First, we could barely communicate (the above was my interpretation from the mixture of Swahili, broken English and Hand Signs and body gestures). Second, was it me to judge whether their doing was write or wrong? Could I even come close to understand what was going on in this part of the world? Thirdly, they were doing what they were told to do by the organization also financing and supporting my research. Would they understand me questioning their doing in this context? But, I should be even more surprised and somewhat paralyzed about the further development of this.
Dangerous Waters On my previous slide I mentioned crocodiles in Lake Victoria. Well, I heard contradictory stories about them when I planned to go to stay on "my" island. Some people in Africa told me that of course, Lake Victoria is known for its crocodiles, but that I won't have a chance to see them on Rubondo Island. Others told me that this island too is well frequented by crocodiles. Hmm, when arriving on the island, the rangers told me that washing and fetching water in the lake is no problem (apart from Bilharzia). Nonetheless, I decided to be careful and did not spend more time in the shallow waters than needed. In addition, knowing that crocs can be very patient, I everyday changed the location where I refilled my water buckets and washed myself. During all three months, I haven't seen a single crocodile - which apparently is good: I know that, when standing in the water, as soon as you spot a crocodile it might be too late to escape anyhow. So, it was until I was back home that I discovered how right I was with my tactics:
They day I was picked up again and flown back to the Serengeti NP headquarters I spotted a Hippo walking on shore right behind "my camp". I grabbed my camera and tried to shot a picture of it. When I showed to slides to my parents months later, my mom asked me "what are the many "sticks" in the water?" ... ehm, indeed, at least seven crocodiles were bathing in the waters not even 100m from where I camped during three months! Lucky me .... ... but switching back to the previous page: indeed a very dangerous lake to paddle in on a fragile raft ...
Last Efforts to escape ...
... knowing how dangerous Lake Victoria is due to all the crocodiles, seeing the two sitting on a raft that could fall apart every moment and assuming they are not able to swim: these guys must have been very desperate. When thinking of poachers in Africa, I had this image in my mind of well equipped hunters going after every single elephant or rhino for their precious ivory or horn. I never had poor fishermen in mind that were fishing because they (most likely) did not have enough food for eating. Sure, if you want to be cynical, the guys seem to be well nourished, but what about their families? Or alternatively, could you really make enough money from selling poached fish in order to accept the dangerous involved with their activities? How desperate do you have to be to paddle on a fragile raft, surrounded by crocodiles, hunted by park rangers ... ? I was confronted with a completely new experience and I should learn even more later that day ...
Caught and put in cuffs
... some half hour later that rangers stopped the cat-and-mouse-game and caught up with the poachers. The fishermen were taken on board the small boat. No resistance at all. Even when the rangers started to shout at them, no reaction in their face, no aggression, no regret, not pity, nothing. Seemed as if they had nothing to say as if it was daily routine ... for both rangers and fisherman. After a while I asked what will happen to those two guys. "Well, we wish they would 'accidentally die' and not return" answered one of the rangers with a smile in his face. Again, I was perplex to hear such answer. "But no, we will take him to the island first and then, later this week, we will take everyone to the district capital on the mainland for trial", another ranger complemented. But, seeing a very big smile in his face and a wink in his eye, I doubted whether such things as fair trial would exist in this corner of the country ...
On shore ...
... The two poachers (and a couple more caught by another team of rangers) were brought to the island. Similar to hunt-down prey, the men were laid on the shoreline ... still passively expecting their punishment. This atmosphere was so typical for many situation I experienced when traveling in Africa, but also when reading books about Africa: an endless endurance, despondence or indifference (still searching for the right word in English) reflecting the hopelessness and despair ... as if they were exhausted from daily fighting and tiredly accepting their fate.
Routine ... not only did the treatment the rangers did to the poachers intrigue me, not only was I surprised to see the total lack of reaction amongst the prisoners: what perhaps intrigued me most was how "normal" the situation seemed to be for everyone. The rangers' wifes didn't bother what was going on but continued with their routine of washing dishes and fish in the lake. Imagine the same scenario in a western country: policemen are arresting to criminals, lay them down on your doorstep and you continue doing your garden work as if nothing had happened ... isn't that bizarre? And one more thing: In my opinion, this picture in combination with the previous one is a fabulous example for discussing manipulation of pictures in photoshop. None of the pictures is manipulated and still despite being taken from the same standpoint at the same time, they tell a different story. In analogue photography as well, all picture taking is subject to the photographers standpoint and his intention. Framing the picture differently does tell another story about a situation. Here, the two prisoners were not no longer kept in isolation, it is no longer them who are in the middle of attention. The situation no longer is extraordinary. They have become part of daily life. They belong. No photoshop is needed, changing the frame alone is as much an manipulation of reality. There is not such thing as reality - certainly not in photography. Independent of photoshop and digital photography. Photoshop only makes it easier.
Human Xylophone ... as mentioned on the previous slide, arresting poachers seemed to be part of daily life on this tiny Victory Lake island. But for me, it was everything else than normal life. The seized boats in the background, the illegally caught fish in the foreground, the arrested poachers lined up at the rangers command. I do not want to bother you with details about the treatment of the arrested men, but it definitely didn't rank high in my western or northern ethical standards. In my journal, I described it as playing "human xylophone" ... imagine the row of bended human backs being the blocks of a that instrument ... . It is difficult to imagine how much this scene contrasted to the otherwise so beautiful island. Only two years later, a (very basic and very well integrated) tourist camp opened on that Island. A Swiss Sunday newspaper wrote: "The last paradise on earth" ... at least that day it was far from being paradise for these men ...
Corvee ... I of course was wrong to believe that the "Xylophone" was all for that day. Having a half dozen strong men available seemed rather handy for the park rangers as there was always lots of things to do on the island. Such as shoveling sand (and please, don't ask me what the sand was used for as normally there was very limited fuel available to drive the tractor to another place). And, needless to say as well that this was not the only kind of corvee: the men stayed for half a week on the island working for the park authority before being brought to court in Geita.
Smoking part of the Catch
Well, you might wonder, what happened to the confiscated load of poached fish? The rules were very strict and as far as I could observe they were quite well followed in this park: the fish was smoked on fire for a couple of hours. The rangers were allowed to keep very little or none of the fish for their own use. I was told that this was to ensure that the rangers themselves did not start poaching or start to sell the prey for their own purpose whilst declaring it was confiscated fish. The majority of the smoked catch however was brought to the mainland as evidence in the trial. I was given some fish to taste ... which I had to accept despite the tragic story attached to this meal. Btw, similar were the rules in another case. I once observed a fight between an elephant and a hippo. It was a very short fight with the elephant being the winner in the first round leaving the hippo dead! Again, in this very case, the rangers were not allowed to smoke/conserve the meat (which apparently is very good) but had to burn the entire animal. Again, this was to ensure that the rangers did not start killing the animals themselves and declaring that the animal died in a fight.
Money can buy ... So what have we read so far? it's about being hungry it's about being desperate it's about people poaching fish it's about ethics difficult to understand from a western standpoint it's about punishing people it's about the inability to communicate but it is also about contrast in daily life
And I will add another dimension now: it is also about the divide between the very rich and the very poor! A couple of days later to my very surprise three South Africans arrived on the island (the picture is of their departure though). It was the first time for weeks that I met "strangers" and that I also saw the use of the park authorities' boats other than for observation patrols [on the other hand, I wasn't able to stock up on food for weeks now due to fuel shortage, but this is another story]. Guess what these visitors have come to the island for? for fly-fishing!!!
Fly Fishing
So, here we are. Some desperate, hungry, poor (black) people are being taken into custody for catching fish for the food. And some other people healthy and wealthy (and white) are being pampered by the park authority for catching fish for fun purpose. O.k. I know this is a little bit too black and white (in the true meaning of the words too). I also understood that these visitors/sport fishermen payed some 50$ a day for a fishing permit and that this money paid the park rangers salary (and indirectly, this also financed research such as I did on the island (though I benefited from other funding)). Of course, I also knew that these three, very kind and thoughtful persons, two of them medical doctors, worked with and for the very poor in South Africa helping them surviving in their miserable lives. And I also knew that they as well deserved vacation and some distance from their daily sorrows in South Africa. But still, it wasn't easy to accept the contradictions I have experienced within just a few days.
Feeling guilty?
O.k. this story is coming to an end and I want to keep this one short. Other than the poach fish the world record fish was not confiscated, smoked and delivered to the district court as an evidence for a crime. It was either thrown back into the water (as they have fished some much fish impossible to transport or keep) or they were taken a shore. Such as this one. Joseph, one of the rangers and a very good cook too, took care of the this huge Nile Perch. And I have to admit that - grilled on a fire by the lake - it tasted delicious ... how guilty do I have to feel?
- end -
PS: It was one of the few times that I ate enough while living on the island. I lost more than 10 to 15kg as my food supply was everything else than sufficient ... hence this fish also was a feast for me!
PS: In order to preserve this touch of reality, I on purpose did not optimize pictures, i.e. cropping, changing tones or contrasts. Hence, forgive the rather dark nature of these scans.