THE HUNTER, THE HUNTED

We are in Ndutu for 3 nights. The place is magical – great migration scenes over by Mlima Matiti, and a lovely pride of lion with 9 cubs just near camp as a bonus.

We are discussing the next day’s plans: a day trip to Lemuta and the Gol Mountains for a complete change of scene. So, where shall we have lunch? The fig tree on the big kopje? No, says Halifa: there was a lioness with small cubs there a few days ago – better not disturb her.

A plan is duly hatched and so to bed. The plains the next day are magnificent – a hunting cheetah, herds spread over the whole vast expanse – and a lioness from the Barafu pride with two large cubs trying to ambush a line of wildebeest coming to drink at a water hole.

Not long afterwards, we make our way to the aforementioned kopje-with-a-fig, to find a tragedy. There is a fresh carcass (yesterday? 2 days old?) of a lioness. The paws have been cut off, as the claws can be used as trophies. The vultures have done a good job of cleaning up, and there is little meat left on the bones.

We can’t be sure of course, but we can’t banish the thought: this is the lioness with the cubs, the ones that Halifa saw just the other day. And if this is the case, the cubs are just as dead as if they had been speared alongside their mother.

Traditional Maasai lion hunts are illegal, but if a lion has killed your cattle there is a certain amount of leeway. So this is an excuse that is frequently invoked by Maasai moran who want to earn their spurs but don’t want to go to prison in the process.

There are no bomas (homesteads) particularly close to the kill site. It is feasible, of course, that she walked the several kilometers to the nearest boma and killed a cow, and that the Maasai caught up with her just here. Feasible, but unlikely, given the throngs of game in the area – surely there are far easier ways of getting a meal than walking all that way?

The problem, of course, is the rapidly increasing human population in the area, with the attendant change in land use. Conflict is inevitable, and just as inevitable is the fact that wildlife will lose out, even in protected areas such as the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, where we were that day.

Conservationists are often portrayed as misanthropic, or anti-development. The tragedy, as I see it, is that wildlife, properly managed, has the potential to be that rare thing - an engine for sustainable rural growth in Tanzania. Currently there is little hope that this force can be harnessed.