Mangroves

I learned all this because Bruno and I visited Mida Creek, an estuary off the Indian Ocean about 100km north of Mombasa.  The local Giriama community, with support from Kenyan conservation groups, has created a board walk and bird hide here in an effort to preserve this mangrove ecosystem.

And mangroves are worth preserving.  They provide habitat for oysters, crabs, and snails, and feeding and reproducing grounds for hundreds of species of fish.  They help retain the mud here, which is rich in micro-phytoplankton – it is said that 1 square meter of this mud has the nutritional value of a large chocolate bar!  All this means that mangroves also support a plethora of migrating birds from all over the world, and serves as crucial habitat for a few key species, such as the crab plover.  Also, the complex mangrove root system traps silt which raises the level of the shore and provides protection from erosion and flooding, protects coral reefs, and keeps land seepage out of the water.

a fisherman working on his netting in Mida Creek

Preserving the mangroves is no easy task, however.  The locals have been cutting down their mangrove trees for generations, both for personal and commercial use.  Despite the fact that more mangroves very simply means more fish for this fishing community, it is difficult to educate people to change their ways.  You can’t just make a habitat off-limits, and expect locals to obey – there has to be something in it for them.  So this is why the money made from the Board Walk/Bird Hide Ecotourism project is put into paying the local children’s secondary school fees.  The catch is that the community can’t cut down the mangroves.

Nice idea, as all ecotourism projects are.  But the reality is – as always – a bit more muddy.  Juma, a guide and bird conservationist at the board walk, admits that people sometimes sneak into the mangroves and secretly cut wood.  With 32km₂ of mangroves to monitor, protecting them from cutting is a difficult task.  The project has the aid of Kenyan Forest Services (KFS), who monitor from water and land, but it is still a daunting task.  In the four years Juma has been with the Board Walk, at least 3 people have been caught cutting the mangroves.  They are fined, and their children lose their tuition funding.  He feels confident that, for most villagers, the threat of punishment is enough to keep them from cutting the wood.

All these are mangrove roots!

A more long-term solution is to change the local community’s attitude and perspective toward mangroves.  To get them to see the direct link between the existence of the trees and their livelihood.  With classroom education and video nights for adults, they seem to be trying to change minds.  But how soon will it take effect?  Already, the original mangroves around Mida Creek have been cut, and the ones we see now are being constantly planted there in an attempt to save this ecosystem.

Bruno and I enthusiastically support this project, and we spend an afternoon here.  The rickety board walk takes you through and over the mangroves, with leaves fluorescent green and mazelike roots.  We notice a few different types of mangroves – notable for their different leaves and roots – and read that there are seven out of the nine Kenyan mangroves here.  The boardwalk sometimes tilts menacingly to one side, emitting loud creaking noises.  More than a few planks are missing.

We are relieved to reach the bird hide at the end of the board walk.  As the tide comes in, hundreds of different migratory birds, following the edge of the water, approach the hide.  They feast on worms and crustaceans.  In the background, a few local fisherman wade out into the water to their nets or canoes, hoping to catch this evening’s meal.  A pink and icy blue hue colors our perception of this scene.

Welcoming the salty cool breeze, we watch the birds.  The infamous crab plover is true to his name – he soars above the mud, eyes his crabby catch, leaps up a bit for momentum, and then swoops straight down toward his prey.  Bruno amuses himself trying to photograph the crab plover with his catch in-beak.  The yellow-billed stork is the biggest of the bunch today, as there are no flamingoes.  That’s fine by me, as he’s pretty, with the bright red around the eyes and the black on the tips of his wings.  High-pitched twittering buzzes loudly in our ears.  A few local guys walk out to the birds’ muddy territory, on their way to their canoe, and scare all the birds away.  We wander home and onwards as well.

A few days later, though, when we are in Watamu at the Temple Point Resort, we re-visit Mida Creek and the mangroves, this time from a canoe.  On our first trip, the tide is too low, and doesn’t reach the mangroves.  They balance on their spring-like roots and seem to taunt us.  Determined to see them up-close again, we venture out a second time, at high tide.  Now, our canoe can glide alongside the mangroves at the coast.  The water is, at times, transparent enough to see the roots of the trees, the coral reef, and brightly colored fish.  We venture inside a few mini waterways, weaving and ducking through the trees as the water canal becomes more and more narrow.  There is a canopy of trees all around us, and in the transparent water, its symmetrical reflection creates a very trippy optical illusion.  Which way is up?  We hear only the lapping of water on trees, the occasional call of the egret, heron, or ibis, and the flapping of fish catching insects at the water’s surface.  I almost feel as though I’m paddling through the backwater jungles of the Congo or Gabon.

Bruno stopping to admire the mangrove during our low-tide canoe ride – See how big the roots are!

a local dhow boat trying to navigate the little waterways of the creek