Keeping parks open is tough, maybe say goodbye to all this

Most South Africans take their nature reserves for granted.


A decade or so ago, a mate and I took the train from Falkirk through to Glasgow to watch one of Scotland's best-loved bands, The Waterboys. You'll know them, the lot wot sang The whole of the moon. One of the songs that raised the roof that night at *The Barras was Don't bang that drum!, a song that – in Weegieland as well as across the water in Belfast – has a distinct sectarian and political connotation. Elsewhere, however, it's taken on the meaning of someone spouting endlessly forth on a chosen topic. I don't often step onto a…

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A decade or so ago, a mate and I took the train from Falkirk through to Glasgow to watch one of Scotland’s best-loved bands, The Waterboys. You’ll know them, the lot wot sang The whole of the moon. One of the songs that raised the roof that night at *The Barras was Don’t bang that drum!, a song that – in Weegieland as well as across the water in Belfast – has a distinct sectarian and political connotation.

Elsewhere, however, it’s taken on the meaning of someone spouting endlessly forth on a chosen topic. I don’t often step onto a soapbox to air my views but, when it comes to nature conservation, I’m happy to – as former Dire Straits singerguitarist (and once-upon-atime journalist in Glasgow) Mark Knopfler put it – go “banging on the bongos like a chimpanzee”.

Most South Africans take their nature reserves for granted. We all know about the Kruger National Park, Addo Elephant, Shamwari, Sabi Sands and their ilk… but I can virtually guarantee that, in the past year, you’ve driven past at least one road sign directing you to provincial parks without actually noticing.

I’m equally guilty but, in the last week while writing the piece on Nkomazi Private Game Reserve that follows on the next two pages of Citizen Travel, I’ve made myself open my eyes to the provincial offerings I would usually blindly bypass.

One way or another, those reserves might not be with us for much longer. There are many reasons for their decline in popularity, but it’s actually the current ties when protected areas in the Eastern Cape were slated for land restitution.

It was a hard sell, he admitted, but the local communities eventually bought in to the sustainability of the socio-economic picture as it was painted for them by the provincial authorities. Eish! Tourism is fickle.

In many cases, travellers’ attention moves elsewhere and the destination du jour is about as sexy as yesterday’s newspaper for wrapping fish and chips or wiping your bum. When you have 50 000ha on your doorstep and no-one is using it because of Covid or whatever, what use is it to people who are penniless and starving? Cows and goats are going to move in and the veld will be almost irrevocably lost to wildlife conservation.

As Muir said, government will have to work very differently if it wants to keep provincial parks – especially those in “poorer” provinces such as Mpumalanga, Limpopo and the Eastern Cape – open. * The Barrowlands Ballroom, one of the world’s great live music venues. pandemic that has “ninja-ed” its way in close to slip the proverbial assassin’s dagger between the provincial parks’ ribs. Nkomazi is surrounded by Somginvelo Game Reserve which is managed by the Mpumalanga Parks Board.

At nearly 50 000ha, it’s the largest local governmentrun park in the province and, I gather, all of South Africa. It’s home to four of the Big Five, accommodation is plentiful but… it’s a VERY big “but”… no-one goes there. As our rugby referees are wont to say just before blowing their whistles; “use it or lose it!” Ten years or so ago, the local community at eManzana (Badplaas) were told that Somginvelo was theirs if they filed an application at the Land Claims Commission.

One immediate response was to break down the fence and move cattle onto almost a quarter of the reserve. Another was to move in and shoot anything on four legs that moved. If it had horns on its nose, even better. That’s why it’s a Big Four reserve and not Big Five.

After years of consultation, the claiming community decided it would have a far more sustainable income stream if it partnered with Mpumalanga Parks in managing Songimvelo as a visitor resource: as we all know, tourism equals jobs. I had this conversation a couple of days ago with a wonderful man I’ve known for many years, the Wilderness Foundation’s Andrew Muir.

He’s living in Port Elizabeth and was on the team that consulted with communities when protected areas in the Eastern Cape were slated for land restitution.It was a hard sell, he admitted, but the local communities eventually bought in to the sustainability of the socio-economic picture as it was painted for them by the provincial authorities. Eish! Tourism is fickle. In many cases, travellers’ attention moves elsewhere and the destination du jour is about as sexy as yesterday’s newspaper for wrapping fish and chips or wiping your bum.

When you have 50 000ha on your doorstep and no-one is using it because of Covid or whatever, what use is it to people who are penniless and starving? Cows and goats are going to move in and the veld will be almost irrevocably lost to wildlife conservation. As Muir said, government will have to work very differently if it wants to keep provincial parks – especially those in “poorer” provinces such as Mpumalanga, Limpopo and the Eastern Cape – open.

* The Barrowlands Ballroom, one of the world’s great live music venues.

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