Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
After our first day following the bonobos, when Léonard led Sally, Michael, Alan, and me out
of the forest into a small village, fifty children surrounded us, wanting their photos taken. A young
man in shorts ran from a hut to the talking drum, and gave it only a few resonant strikes. Ten
minutes later, the motorcycles began arriving from the camp in Yetee to pick us up, faster than I
would have expected, as if the drum imparted urgency or authority, or the people held an ancient
memory of respect.
But it was the children who stayed in my mind. While we waited, they swarmed about us, posing
for the camera, others lifting their hands in front of the lens, trying to be included in some way, all
of them then racing around to see the images on the LCD screen. Some of the boys did headstands
and handstands, waving their feet in the air as others gathered around them to be included in the
shot.
The crowds of children were suggestive of the extent to which the DRC's population is explod-
ing. Even with livestock and cassava programs, the local people can barely feed themselves. They
are in the greatest need of—and simultaneously pose the greatest risk to—the resources found in the
rainforests, and they know that their relationship to the forests needs to change. Villagers said that
even a decade earlier hunters had to walk three or four days from villages before seeing wildlife,
and they understood that their traditional ways of surviving were failing. They asked me why more
foreigners didn't visit and said that I should tell everyone I knew about the forests and the bonobos
so that people would come.
Since my arrival in Djolu, and especially since I'd been in Kokolopori, whenever the villagers
discussed projects on the reserve, the name that came up most frequently was that of Albert Lotana
Lokasola. Even on our first day in Yetee, his name occurred often in the people's songs. They
praised him for having founded Vie Sauvage. Sally had explained to me that this was BCI's first trip
to Kokolopori without him. He had been the local leader BCI most supported, working closely with
him on conservation efforts. Under his guidance, Vie Sauvage regularly provided BCI with reports
on projects and wildlife monitoring. BCI used this material to apply for funding and worked with
Albert to develop and manage further projects. The previous year, at the same time as the contested
presidential elections, he had run for parliament and won, and was now in Kinshasa. He planned on
dividing his time between Kokolopori and the capital, when parliament was in session, but listening
to people talk in the evenings, I noticed that they were concerned he wouldn't return, that he would
be too busy as a parliamentarian to do conservation.
The Congo's Bantu cultures revere great men, imploring them to save their people, to be a
source of abundance. What I heard about Albert Lotana Lokasola evoked this traditional reveren-
ce, but it was also true that decades of government abuse had made the Congolese wary. Now they
expected great men to serve their own needs and not fulfill their duties. Villagers said that Albert
was always smarter than the rest of them, more talented in school, destined for success, and they
considered his campaign promises, speculating as to whether he would become a corrupt politician
or bring greater benefits to the region. The reserve was their livelihood, and they thought about the
future and worried the way workers in rural America would at rumors of a factory closing or a lag
in the economy that might hurt them. I couldn't help but wonder as well if he would have the de-
termination and the resources to help them, and what the full scope of his ambition really was. But
clearly, from the way the people spoke, even those who were concerned about his intentions respec-
ted him for all he'd done to build the reserve.
