Michigan Today . . . Fall 1999

U-M South Africa Initiative   The things going
bump in the night
could well be hippos
Conflict in the Park
By Lisa Klopfer

One day this summer Catherine Picard found herself face to face with a community rebel wanted by the police. Another day she was splattered with hippo guts when she got too close while photographing butchers. And every day she talked with people who ranged from outspoken racists to ingratiatingly hospitable, to just plain hungry. Projects for master's degree students at the U-M School of Natural Resources and Environment can have challenges, but Picard has had more than her share.

photo of Catherine PicardAs a Moody Fellow funded by a Ford Foundation grant through the U-M's Center for Afro-American and African Studies, Picard spent the summer living in a cabin in a game reserve in South Africa's Greater St. Lucia Wetland Park, researching communities in conflict over conservation. The park, which protects five separate ecosystems within approximately 645,000 noncontiguous acres, exists in an uneasy balance between three residential communities, the South African Parks Board and commercial mining interests.

On the day of her arrival, in the dead of night, a park ranger drove Picard to her cabin in a Land Rover. "He called the next day to say he'd totaled the vehicle after hitting a hippo in the road. It turns out hippos' eyes don't reflect light the way a cat's or deer's eyes do. They're just a big black blob. This hippo was the size of a Honda Accord, he said. It bounced right back up after the collision and ran off into the darkness."

The park is roughly 160 miles from Durban, making it one of the closest pristine beach and game areas for urban vacationers. "I am trying to get a grasp on how local communities perceive and benefit from the Greater St. Lucia Wetland Park," Picard says. "I have focused on three very different socioeconomic communities, which are adjacent to one another, yet they share very different realities regarding this Park.

map of area"One community is the town of St. Lucia, which is populated by White South Africans who run tourist related businesses, and the other two are Zulu communities about three miles away, with obviously significantly lower levels of income generation, employment and education. These diverse communities are all dependent upon the park, so how do their perceptions and benefits of the park differ?"

St. Lucia relies heavily upon both South African fisherman and ecotourists visiting the park. Fishing is seasonal, nicely complementing the growing tourist trade. However, as the fishery continues to decline, St. Lucians increasingly rely on tourism for revenue. They run guesthouses, fishing and snorkeling excursions, game drives, restaurants, shops and other services. Their community has paved roads, gas stations, banks and all the other amenities associated with a small resort.

The irony of Whites now battling to protect the remaining wetlands is not lost on Black residents, whose way of life on the margins of the park is coming under increasing scrutiny and control. The two Black communities' relationship with the park is based on subsistence agriculture and the hope for jobs. One Black community, Dukuduku North, is a recognized settlement. The people who live there agreed to be relocated from more sensitive areas in or near the park, and in exchange they received assistance with housing, schools and other such amenities. Their neighborhoods are still muddy, many of the homes tiny. Chicken and cattle roam the dirt roads. But the people of Dukuduku North are eager to move up in the world, to purchase cars, build larger houses, buy more televisions, refrigerators, even send the kids to college. For the people of Dukuduku North, they expect the park to offer jobs. Perhaps due to lack of experience, they do not think of having their own businesses, as the Whites do. "What every person wants is a salary," Picard observes.

A Legal Haze
In contrast, the people of Dukuduku South live in a legal haze, and often a literal one too, as they burn hidden areas for crops, and threaten the small remaining tracts of the rare coastal lowland forest. No one is sure how many people live along the muddy tracks and paths that reach as far as a dozen miles from the road. Estimates set the populations of Dukuduku North at 10,000 people, Dukuduku South at 12,000 to 30,000, and St. Lucia registers fewer than 2,000 permanent residents.

Dukuduku South residents earn money selling agricultural products and woodcarvings from roadside stands. They claim to know and love the forest better than anyone else, and argue that the parks board harasses them and that the Whites limit their movement and their access to economic opportunities in sugar, forestry, fisheries, mining and so on. With more freedom, they say, they would live in harmony with the park and their neighbors.

Thanks to a course taught by Crisca Bierwert, assistant professor of anthropology, and another seminar that Picard, herself, helped organize on parks and people, Picard had an idea of what to expect. But courses couldn't prepare her for the emotional drain of shuttling between the communities in tension.

In the all-White community of St. Lucia, civilization ends at the security gate guarding their neighborhood. "I love South Africa, but this area is fraught with some of the greatest racial tension I have ever witnessed" says Picard, a University of California-Berkeley graduate who lived in Rwanda, Senegal, Swaziland, Namibia and South Africa while growing up. "It's so hard to interview someone who feels this way; but understanding their perspective is important. Everyone has significant roots and ties to this place. People have grown up here and have firm beliefs, and reconciling these issues of race and identity are complicated and will take a long time. Unfortunately, this often results in blame being placed upon local Zulu communities for destroying the nearby forest and discouraging ecotourism."

'Freaked Out About Their Future'
And it is the forest–or rather tourism based on the forest, the wetland park and seasonal fishing–that provides the Whites their livelihood. "Young White South Africans are freaked out about their future, " Picard says. They are fearful of the ANC-led government, which, they believe, gives preferences to Blacks. And they are mistrustful of Picard and her ties with Blacks and the Parks Board.

photo of park sign Recently, a conflict arose over the right to harvest a particular grass used to make mats, and irate members of Dukuduku South blockaded the road for a few days, strangling off the tourist trade on which most St. Lucia, residents survive. "Communication between the communities is growing, although much remains to be reconciled," Picard says.

Picard's research should be far more useful than the attitudinal surveys that prevailed in the 1980s. Knowing attitudes, particularly around polarizing issues, doesn't help solve anything, Picard points out. Her research is designed to help the groups come to understand where they might have common ground, "particularly regarding the potential benefits of community-based conservation and joint ecotourism projects." photo of a mat weaver

The park also is meaningful to Picard beyond her research subjects. "The first week I was here I just realized I was in paradise. This is paradise. In one day you can traverse five different ecosystems, body surf, snorkel, take a game walk" She doesn't have to look far for wildlife. Little vervet monkeys steal food from her kitchen. "I'll be writing out my notes, and a huge nyala or kudu [antelopes] will cruise right by." A bearded stork sometimes stops in, and she hears bush pigs in the nearby woods. One day a young leopard stared out at her as it crossed the road.

Sometimes she explores a new path or beach. And at night she ventured forth on "a whole new type of hiking. You hear something, but often you can't see a thing–what an adrenaline rush." Just to be safe, she takes her cell phone with her.


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