There’s rubies in them there hills

Apart from having lost their land to make way for a game reserve, the Endorois, like many other indigenous peoples throughout the world, have also been adversely affected by opencast mining. Emma Eastwood, MRG’s Trouble in Paradise Campaign Manager, investigates.

In 2003, without consultation with the community, a private company began ruby mining on the land the Endorois had been forced on to after their eviction from Lake Bogoria. After complaints from the community of diarrhoea and stomach cramps, the Endorois’ sole drinking water sources were tested in June 2006 and found to be contaminated by poisonous chemicals used in the mining process. The Kenyan government forced the mine to shut down a few months later.

Wilson Kipsang Kipkazi, Secretary of the Endorois Welfare Council and our guide whilst visiting the area, eagerly shows me a document he recently found on the internet (which was mysteriously withdrawn soon after) detailing the amount of rubies the company running the mining operation had extracted and the market value of the gems – 1grm of rubies sells for around 135, 000 Ksh (approx US$193). He suspects that the company may never have paid any taxes on the revenue it gained from the mine and that the rubies were extracted under a prospecting license rather than a full mining license.

And so we set out to visit the abandoned mine, a two-hour, dusty ride down a road that often resembled a dry riverbed, scattering baboons as we bumped our way further and further into the bush. How they had ever managed to get huge earthmovers and mining machinery into such an isolated area in the first place baffled me.

After various 4-wheel drive dilemmas we ditched the car and continued on foot down a steep track towards the abandoned mine. Although the whole operation was abandoned over 2 years ago, the landscape was still scarred – exposing the purple earth that indicated the presence of rubies beneath the soil.

We forded the river (the very same one that had poisoned the community…. I put thoughts of bilharzia and elephantitis out of mind as I felt my barefoot way across the slippery rocks) and climbed up to inspect the mining equipment. The whole area had an eerie feeling – what was left of the rusted, derelict machinery had been ransacked and vandalised in the post-election violence according to Kipkazi, a couple of donkeys (looking considerably fatter and well fed than the poor beasts I’d seen toiling away in Morocco a few years back) eyed us docilely from the top of the mine shaft, ubiquitous goats, dotted around the site, bleated mournfully.

Abandoned machinery at the mine site

A small group of Endorois men who’d been tending their goats nearby appeared from nowhere – the sense of remoteness I felt was misleading, the area is far more densely populated than it first appears. Kipkazi and Richard Yegon, an elder from an Endorois village called Kapkuikui who was also accompanying us, chatted with them about their experience of the mine.

Endorois men who live and tend their goats close to the mine

Apparently hardly any of the people from the surrounding area were employed here – and when they were it was only to shovel dirt into the cleaning and sorting machines, they were never allowed to see the rubies. They were also prevented from grazing their goats and cattle within the vicinity of the mine (bear in mind that we’re on Endorois land here and permission was never sought for the mining operations from the community) and were often harassed by security guards.

Whilst Kipkazi and Richard poked around in the dry, purple earth (hoping they might get lucky?) one of the men showed me a ruby the size of a sunflower seed, which would fetch around 1000 Ksh at a local dealers. When I asked him what he thought about the mine he said, “I wish it had never existed.”

A ruby found at the mine site

Kipkazi tells me that a 2006 Mining Bill, which contemplates payment to local communities for mining privileges, is stagnating at a draft stage. Same old story…

The road to Lake Bogoria is littered with…..goats, sheep and cows…

Emma Eastwood, Trouble in Paradise Campaign manager is in Kenya to visit the Endorois community. After travelling through the mighty Rift Valley, she ends up in the Lake Bogoria National Reserve – the Endorois ancestral land from which they have been expelled. Read Emma’s blog and sign up to our online petition.

Women in colourful headscarves, children without shoes, men pulling impossible loads taking the place of the donkey they can’t afford, alpine highland scenery and suddenly, on the road about 50km north of Nairobi, the Rift Valley falls away as far as the eye can see below us. Kipkazi, from the Endorois Welfare Council, who is acting as our guide for this trip, Neil, MRG Programmes Assistant, and I, marvel at the view of hazy, distant lakes, extinct volcanic craters and dry flat plains which stretch away to the horizon.

View of the Rift Valley

We see zebras grazing on the outskirts of Naivasha and baboons dodging traffic with tiny babies hanging off their backs. I can’t resist the temptation to text home ( O praise the African obsession with mobile phones) I seem to have a network in even the most remote spots. I receive a reply – London is grey and workmen are drilling concrete on the building site next door…

The Endorois are semi-nomadic pastoralists, people who earn their livelihood through the rearing of livestock. Some say that pastoralists occupy over 70% of the land in Kenya, and this is borne out by what we see on our road trip from Nairobi to Lake Bogoria. As we travel northwards we see hundreds of goats, sheep and cows grazing on sparse patches of grass by the roadside. On entering Endorois territory, just north of the Equator, the animals disregard traffic rules altogether and wander absent-mindedly all over the road, forcing our Kenyan driver John, who seems very used to this behaviour, to respectfully manoeuvre at a crawling pace around the distracted beasts.

Endorois man herding his cows

You wouldn’t want to injure one; these animals are of an almost sacred importance to pastoralist communities and according to Kipkazi a fully-grown cow can fetch around 35, 000 Ksh (about US$500). As Dr Wako, Chairman of the Regional Elders Council, an MRG-backed forum of pastoralist leaders from Ethiopia, Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda, said to me last week at MRG’s African Commission seminar in Kampala, “For pastoralists, sheep and goats are like a current account, they provide us with ready cash, whilst cattle and camels are a savings account, they provide for our future and our children’s future.”

After five hours of driving we reach Lake Bogoria National Reserve, a game park created in 1973 by the Kenyan government, the object of the Endorois’ struggle. The Endorois were evicted from their ancestral lands to make way for the Reserve, depriving them not only of prime pasture for cattle and goats during the harsh dry season but also of sites important for cultural activities such as naming or initiation ceremonies and the only available salt licks for cows in the area. MRG’s Trouble in Paradise campaign is aimed at helping the Endorois get redress for the loss of their lands.

Entrance to Lake Bogoria National Reserve

As we drive around the lake as the sun begins to set behind the dark escarpment overlooking the Reserve, we see the pink blur of thousands of flamingos gathering by the water’s edge, zebras and warthogs, gazelles, impalas, ostriches and giant tortoises – a veritable wildlife haven and overwhelmingly beautiful. Yet somehow it all seems too empty – there are no humans. Unlike elsewhere, there are no small boys tending their flocks of sheep, or herds of cows here. My appreciation of the wildlife and scenery is tinged by sadness.

Flamingos on the shores of Lake Bogoria

Despite being originally promised 25% of revenue from the Reserve and 80% of the jobs in the park – today only a handful of Endorois work as wardens and the community only began to receive a paltry 4% of money raised at the gates in 2006 (33 years after the creation of the Reserve). Improved roads were also promised by the government when they gazetted the land for the park in 1973. Yet those roads have never materialised – even the road through the Reserve is a match for our 4 wheel drive.

Kipkazi is visibly excited by being back in his homeland – as he reminisces about the fertile grazing and plentiful fresh water supply in the area I picture how it must have been in those happier, more prosperous times.

He points out the hot springs and geysers representing sacred sites for the Endorois, which, together with the flamingos, are one of the main reasons tourists now visit the park. He says that legend has it that ghosts inhabit the geysers and call out your name, enticing you into the afterlife – community elders used to offer tobacco and milk in the old days to appease the spirits. When he was a boy it was forbidden to even mention someone’s name when you were near this place, in case that person was taken away by the ghosts.

We press on and visit other traditional sites. Many of the Endorois’ ancestors are buried around the park – the community would normally come and visit their graves for children’s naming ceremonies, but are now prevented from doing so by the authorities. At the southern, isolated end of the lake Kipkazi shows us the place where young boys (aged around 12) used to come for initiation ceremonies – they would stay for 1 month in the bush. The area is wooded to provide shade for those undergoing the hardships of the ritual and a small river flows nearby which would allow the boys to quench their thirst.

Ancient fig trees at Endorois initiation site, Lake Bogoria

As the light fades we decide to call it a day and head out of the Reserve. Miniature antelopes called dikdiks dodge our headlights along the way.

If you haven’t done already, I urge you to sign up to our online petition supporting the Endorois (and get as many of your friends, family and colleagues to do so too). We’ll be handing the petition over to the Kenyan government at the end of 2008. By adding your voice you can help right the wrongs of the past and allow this unique community to fully benefit from the lucrative tourism conducted upon their homeland.

The Bad Car Day

In the second of her blogs from Kenya, Ishbel Matheson sees the living conditions of the Endorois, and has a bad car day

The day began badly. The car broke down, belching black smoke, on the outskirts of Eldoret, where I had been visiting camps for those displaced by the political violence earlier in the year. I was bound for Lake Bogoria in the Rift Valley – one of the premier tourist spots in the country. It is also the ancestral home of the Endorois – but when the area was gazetted as a National Park in the 1970s, the Endorois were evicted, with only paltry promises of compensation.

Endorois rep Wilson Kipkazi was keen that I see for myself the living conditions of his people. But it was well after 2pm before we arrived at Lake Bogoria, picked up two local councillors who had been waiting since early morning, and set off towards the Endorois villages. It was a pretty, but rough road that threaded through acacia trees, bound for a now-defunct ruby mine. But it was an encounter with a steep river crossing that proved to be our undoing.

The car lurched down a steep bank, into a shallow river… raced up the bank at the other side and… slid back down again. The driver, John Kangethe, tried again… but to no avail. And the tricky issue was that, not only could he not go forward, he didn’t have enough room to turn and race back up the other side.

Worst case scenarios flashed through my mind: hours of fruitless pushing, shoving stones under wheels, and oh yes, the familiar prospect of everyone but everyone, including the watoto (children), becoming experts on four-wheel driving, and shouting multiple, conflicting advice to the driver on which way to turn the wheel. The councillor, of course, was reluctant to go back – because he had arranged a community meeting on the other side – so insisted on a couple more valiant efforts up the bank on the other side. But once the gear box started to whine oddly, I foresaw a night in the car, in the middle of nowhere, beckoning. I started to wave my arms madly and shout, ‘No, no, STOP!’Although loathe to give up the sport of trying to get a 4×4 car up a river bank, everyone reluctantly agreed, and a temporary road in the river bank was cleared to allow the car to drive out.

The second councillor wanted us to continue to his community. ’It’s not far’he assured me, as I looked dubiously at my watch. 4pm. ’Just round there’, he said flapping his hands vaguely. Two hours later, the sun sinking spectacularly, in purple, crimson, and pink hues on the other side of the Rift, we were still grinding up a punishing escarpment, heading further and further away from civilisation. Anxiety beset me. Driving at night in Africa is always a really bad idea – especially when thunderclouds are in the sky, and there is no road to speak of. Finally, I said ‘We really, really do have to go back’. The councillor and Kipkazi conferred and the councillor made a couple of phone calls. Yes folks; even in the middle of nowhere, these days there is a mobile telephone network in Kenya. At the next bend, we came to a village where a community group had been waiting for about eight hours, for our arrival.

The men (and one woman) gathered in a little clearing, and a bench was brought for us, and as the last light faded from the sky, they explained the difficulties: the cattle-rustling Pokot were launching raids into their traditional lands, killing some people, and leading to greatly increased insecurity; the more frequent cycles of drought had also decimated herds, making it difficult to find the funds to send children to school; the nearest hospital was 60 kilometres away, so the community had built a dispensary and health clinic from their own funds; but the government had failed to staff it, or give it any supplies. Indeed, apart from a recent visit from the new District Councillor, they had not seen a politician in their area, or a government official since 2005. At heart, this small community shares many of the problems experienced by minorities around the world. In a country where political power flows from economic muscle, their ancient cattle-herding traditions, their remote location, has left them on the very fringes of society.

We spent barely half an hour with them, but they were unbelievably grateful that someone, anyone, from the outside world had come to listen to their story. Back in the car again, we lurched back down the escarpment. It was pitch dark, and Kipkazi and the councillor were conferring in their local language. Kipkazi turned to me, and told me that the place we had stopped on the way up to take pictures of the Rift was in fact a place where the Pokot hung out to ambush people. We passed two members of the Il Chamus tribe, armed with shotguns, guarding their villages from Pokot attacks. At that point, I felt things couldn’t get any worse. But they did. In the couple of hours since we had driven up, it had rained in the Valley. The ground was now dangerously soft, and we had to creep forward while the councillor leant out of the window, peering at the ground in the pitch dark, and guiding the car forward. After an hour and a half of nerve-wracking travel, including the further revelation that we were actually travelling on an ‘unofficial’ road, that the alternative was too dangerous, we eventually reached terra firma, and safety.

Later, in the hotel, I told Kipkazi that I’d been worried that we’d never get the car out of the river bed. He laughed and said. ‘Oh Cynthia and Clive got stuck for three hours’. (Cythia Morel is MRG’s legal cases officer, and Clive Baldwin was formerly head of international advocacy). ‘But,’ he continued, ‘it was fine when I took Sian,’ (an external evaluator for the MRG legal cases programme). A thought began to creep into my head. Had every single MRG staff member who had visited the Endorois gone down the ruby road? Was this some kind of initiation rite? Kipkazi confirmed he had also taken Samia Khan, our head of programmes, on the same torturous journey. ‘But,’ he said ‘Paile (MRG’s African Commission project officer) hasn’t been.’ He shot me a side-long twinkly glance. ‘She’s in my sights’. Paile, you have been warned!