Mozambique's Nirvana - Benguerra Island, and the Bazaruto Archipelago

My fingers carefully ply the leather straps, cinching up the girth inch by inch, making sure the saddle pad stays smooth and flat against my mount’s reddish-brown sides. As I do this, Slash, a beautiful yet mischievous chestnut gelding, turns to eye my handiwork and tosses his head in impatience. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” I laugh as Slash whips his head forward again, ears propped lazily backward to express his perpetual annoyance with the slow, two-legged kind. He takes a big breath and sighs dramatically. I swear, if horses were people…

Finally, with my helmet on I swing up into the saddle. It’s a little black McClellan saddle, incredibly lightweight with high clearance to my horses withers, and named after the American Civil War officer who used its antiquated relative in combat. Wedging my feet into the stirrups, we set off, with Squib, our gentle giant senior, in tow.

We take a right out of the stable “gates,” an aperture hacked from the thick surrounding bush, and head south through the local fishing village. Our easy amble takes us past excited children who herald our arrival with cheers of “Cavaloooo! Mulungo!! Cavalo!!” We pass the quintal or circle of huts of the chief – a well-dressed, older gentleman named Arone – and wave hello to his wives. I yell over the hedge row to one of the wives Adna and ask if I can come buy fish from her later that afternoon. We agree on a general time determined not by hours, but rather by the height of the sun in the sky.

Moving beyond the village now, a new quiet settles in around us. At first, there’s nothing but the sound of Slash and Squib’s hoofbeats muffled in the sand, the creak of warm leather, and the occasional coughs of Manuel, the head groom, from behind.  But after a few moments, my ears adjust and the bush begins to come alive. Song birds conversing across the rolling dunes, scuffling lizards, darting doe-eyed Suni, and the rustle of the salty wind carrying whispers from the mainland. Soon we come across some wild fruit, shaped like small orange plums. I swipe some as we pass and pop the sweet fruit into my mouth, breaking the delicate skin with my tongue and sucking the sweet flesh from the seed.

I marvel.

I marvel, like most nature lovers do, at the incredible bounty of life throughout the Bazaruto Archipelago. Benguerra Island itself, where our horses are located, boasts 11 different ecosystems over 34 squares miles. And that’s not even taking into consideration the life below the ocean’s surface, where coral reefs explode from the sandy bottom to host an abundance of reef fish, giant turtles and Devil rays Moreover, the Dugong, an endangered relative of the American manatee, is now being actively monitored and protected by National Park staff. Thus Benguerra, and her 6 other sister islands, make the Bazaruto Archipelago an absolute nirvana of biodiversity… and a conservationists dream job.

Now rewind. Two weeks ago. I was in Maputo to sign off on all the paperwork that made my Close-of-Service with Peace Corps official. Passing me on the stairs one day, our Country Director Sanjay Mathur, invited me up to his office for a quick chat. “Please,” he said gesturing toward the round table at the base of a giant map of Mozambique – l sat like a child at her mother’s feet. Mocambique, what surprise do you have in store for me today, I wondered. “Karina, I have an incredible opportunity for you. I had lunch with Greg Carr last week and he has a colleague who is in need of a Community Liaison Officer for her brand new conservation project. I don’t know much about it, but that the job will operate between Benguerra and Vilanculos, and I thought since you’re interested in staying on in Mozambique a little longer, this could be a good fit for you. Shall I write you an email of introduction?” I couldn’t believe the words. Sanjay, having lunch with Greg Carr, the millionaire who’s made his life work rehabilitating Gorongosa National Park?? A colleague who wants to hire? This could be the big break I’ve been looking for! An opportunity to launch me into an actual career doing work I care about!  Somehow, I stuttered out a few excited syllables along the lines of “Yes!” “Please!” and “Perfect!” Sanjay leaned back in his chair grinning and said, “Well great then, consider it done!” I practically danced out of his office.

I scheduled an informational interview with this colleague the following day. The woman who answered was friendly and engaging, clearly passionate about her project and interested in getting similar minded people on board. As she described the work of her company (who's name I've omitted for the sake of professionalism) I couldn’t help but start feeling excited too. “We want to develop Benguerra in a way that’s environmentally responsible and also beneficial to needs of the local people,” she explained after I’d summarized my work as a PCV in Mozambique the last 27 months. “While we want to build a lodge, yes, we also want to offer islanders employment and skills training. And ultimately, we are hoping to forge a partnership between our company, the National Park officials, and American universities to develop an exchange program for graduate students to collaborate with Mozambican scientists on environmental and marine research. The Community Liaison Officer would be an educator, community organizer and negotiator between shareholders of the project and the Mozambican community.”  

A job where I can bring groups together for common goals? Where I can use my Portuguese and cultural knowledge? Where I could do environmental community initiatives and coordinate skills training sessions? Where I could be the shepherd of big money backing social justice and progressive development work? Develop better park conservation strategies through promoting scientific research? All while guaranteeing that Mozambicans could participate fully in the process? I knew that as long as my work didn't devolve into a token position as the bringer of bad news and disenfranchisement to a people I just spent the last two years serving, I was hooked.  We've been in employment negotiations ever since.

Now, back on Benguerra for December riding Slash, I see the island a little differently. As the “dona de cavalos,” I am trying to learn all the little caminhos and bairros, and befriend some of the families. Surprisingly I discovered that the islands were uninhabited before the war. Thus, most current local residents are leftover civil war refugees, living on the island for only the past twenty years. In the longitude of Mozambican cultural memory, that’s nothing. But the population on Benguerra is growing, putting stress on the resources of the island. Over-fishing, slash and burn deforestation… It ultimately makes me ask the question, how can we mitigate the effect of humans on nature? Benguerra is still a wild place. And as a National Park we should want to keep it that way. I suppose if I had it my way, we’d leave the island alone completely, provide strong financial compensation to islander families to relocate to the mainland, and rehabilitate the Archipelago as a true, pristine National Park like we have in other parts of southern and eastern Africa. As long as this process was done carefully and in consideration of all human rights (as in people were willing to leave, not being forced), I think it would be a proud moment for conservationists worldwide. Because on the path we’re on, we've got to get smart about development, or we'll start seeing the rapid deterioration of Mozambique’s Nirvana.

So the question is, can we create a system people will adhere to that manages resources effectively enough to keep the quality of human life high, with low environmental impact? It’s a question any company that wants to invest here will have to answer to if they hope to succeed. Yet National Park or not, Benguerra – whether one likes it or not – is going to be developed. That’s just how Mozambican politics work. All it takes is the right "incentive" to the Ministry of Tourism for lands to get set aside for special interest groups. While investors cannot buy land from the government, they can certainly "borrow" it. And so, knowing that this is the game we are forced to play, I personally hope a company focused on equitable development practices has the first say, for everyone's gain. 

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Slash and I are moving faster now, breaking into a light canter up the sandy chute to the lookout point. His ears are pricked forward in equal parts curiosity and vigilance. At the top we come to a halt. The view takes my breath away even now. To the north, Flamingo Bay named for its feathery occupants, and the Great Dune of Bazaruto island, a shimmering sentinel in the afternoon heat. To the south, the wind-swept moonscape of the southern point. To the East, a panorama of the interior lakes and on the horizon, the white foam of lazy ocean rollers smashing into Two Mile reef. To the West, the cerulean blue waters of the mainland channel, swirling sands shifting with the tides. 

This is a place not even words can properly describe, nor camera capture. It is an experience that must be lived, touched, breathed, smelled, seen. This is why we must protect it from the urges of necessity, from spoiling, so that others may too travel to this special world and understand the value of Nature free from the binds of humanity.

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Looking West - Across the Channel to the mainland

Local beach criancas, messiing around :)

The interior lakes and big Dune.

South point! 

And introducing our horsie stars, Slash (above) and Squib (below)