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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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101689
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10168900.005
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1990-09-19
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ENVIRONMENT, Page 73The Battle in the Bush
Bill Woodley killed his first elephant at 16. By 19 he had shot
150 tuskers and lived as a professional ivory hunter. Today, at 60,
he is the elephant's staunchest protector, leading the desperate
war against poachers in Kenya's Tsavo National Park. "They say once
an elephant hunter, always an elephant hunter," says Woodley. "But
I've spent the past 41 years hunting poachers." The difference, he
observes wryly, is that "poachers shoot back."
Tsavo, the country's largest wildlife reserve, was once the
grandest elephant sanctuary in Kenya. Now it is a case study of
what has gone wrong -- and how the elephant may yet be saved. Tsavo
stretches over 8,000 sq. mi., an area the size of Israel. In the
mid-1960s, 40,000 elephants thundered amid the scrub thorn, acacia
and baobob trees. Last year's aerial survey spotted only 5,363 live
elephants in and around the park, and 2,421 carcasses. The
survivors are skittish creatures, often clustered in fear and quick
to flee at the scent of man.
Years ago, Wakamba tribesmen poached in Tsavo, using arrows
tipped with poison. Now Somali gangs, including many former
soldiers, spray whole families of elephants with automatic-weapon
fire. Not all Tsavo's poachers have been outsiders to the park.
Some who are paid to protect the elephants -- wardens and rangers
-- are also suspect. The evidence: Woodley and others have
extracted .303-cal. bullets from carcasses. "The only people who
use .303s are the rangers," he says. Numerous carcasses have been
found near the rangers' headquarters. And when the park's patrol
plane is grounded for inspection, the poachers quickly appear.
Someone has tipped them off. Corruption is hard to eradicate, since
rangers' salaries run as low as $90 a month. "It was policy not to
interfere with departmental poaching," says an assistant warden.
Now Kenya is striking back. In his breast pocket, Woodley has
an envelope stuffed with 30,000 Kenyan shillings ($1,428) -- money
for informants. The antipoaching units are exchanging their World
War I bolt-action rifles for automatic assault weapons. Within the
past year the APUs have killed 18 poachers under a shoot-to-kill
order. Dozens of senior wildlife-department personnel have been
interrogated, and some have been relieved of their duties. These
measures seem to be working. In the past month not one fresh
carcass has been found. "Everyone is keen as mustard," says
Woodley, beaming. "We'll win for sure." It is too early, though,
to declare victory. After a similar crackdown in 1978, the price
of ivory soared and poaching resumed.
In July, Kenya's President, Daniel arap Moi, set ablaze a
twelve-ton mountain of illicit ivory -- 3,000 tusks worth $3
million. To those familiar with the plundering of Kenya's herds and
the corruption in its wildlife department, the fire was a kind of
exorcism. "If we go wrong here, hope will be lost in many parts of
this continent," says Richard Leakey, who became head of the
department in April. "If we go right here, there is a chance for
things to happen elsewhere much more rapidly than any of us would
have dared to believe."