Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
I told him that of the people I'd spoken with there, many believed he was the region's only
hope, and the others thought he would become a typical politician and forget them. He promised
me that the latter would not happen, and listening to him, I was struck by how much work both he
and André had before them. As international funds trickle into the Congo, the local people want to
see constant improvement. The wages that trackers and eco-guards enjoyed would seem less signi-
ficant as industries moved back into these regions and brought people in contact with the national
economy. The conservation values that were being instilled in them could quickly be forgotten for
larger profits, for coffee and palm oil plantations.
Both André and Albert appeared to be at crossroads—the first, after a decade of work, finally
having the funds to carry out his projects and earn back the confidence of his people, and the second,
having established his reserve and gained power in the process, facing the temptations and burdens
of all powerful men and politicians.
As for BCI, their challenges couldn't be clearer, but their achievements stand: the reserves and
numerous unofficial community-protected areas that, though not recognized nationally, provide safe
passage for endangered species; and the network of Congolese trained in conservation, and ready to
be mobilized for new projects. A Bonobo Peace Forest, spanning tens of thousands of square miles,
would be no small achievement in a time of accelerating climate change, and yet, as Kokolopori and
Sankuru have shown, it is clearly attainable through partnerships between conservationists and loc-
al people. The Congolese, both those involved in conservation at the national level and those living
in the rainforests, are unquestionably motivated to protect their natural heritage, and if the various
conservation groups can put aside their differences and collaborate, the Bonobo Peace Forest could
become a reality within this decade.
As for BCI's struggles, I would discuss them a month later, when I spoke with BCI advisor
John Scherlis in Washington, DC. He told me that he wished Sally had the time to explain to people
everything she knows, that doing so might draw far more support for BCI.
“It's almost a winningly humanizing aspect of her,” he said, “her capacity to go mute, which
has happened at certain moments, in meetings and so on, where, had she stated what she's capable
of saying in the way she's capable of speaking it, it would have served her and BCI extremely well.
Sometimes that's the result of the vicious cycle, of burning the candle at both ends, of being chron-
ically exhausted, feeding everything that's needed in DC at the same time she's keeping Congo
hours, because she's up at ridiculous hours on Skype, or on the phone to people in Kinshasa.”
After a pause, he added, “So much of it for BCI is like the Red Queen in
Through the Looking-
Glass
. The Red Queen has to run as fast as she can to stay in the same place. So how do you make
progress when you're already running as fast as you can?”
John's words made me see my time with BCI in a different light. What better image could there
be for the entire Congolese experience, not just conservation—attempting to protect nature even as
it's being destroyed—but the entire country trying desperately not to fall behind?
A day before my departure from Kinshasa, Sally returned, accompanied by Dick Rice. We'd
joined her in Mbandaka, and Dick was on the same flight to Brussels as I was. When our taxi arrived
at the BCI office and we said good-bye to Sally and Michael, an evening storm was blowing in.
The taxi driver steered the Corolla through the traffic as Dick spoke of BCI's self-replicating
model. After seventeen years as head economist at Conservation International, where he developed
the conservation concession model, he was convinced that money wasn't used well and that a lot
more could be done for a lot less. He often found himself asking how the big NGOs could justify
