By Taylor Schlichting (Colby College)
We awkwardly stood, the center of attention at the front of the classroom, about twenty five expectant eyes on us.
“So we’re from Round River Conservation Studies” Rebekah begins, introducing herself and stating her favorite animal as a way of confirming to the kids that we are not there to lecture them. We go down the line, stating our favorite species we have seen in Namibia (lion, elephant, ostrich, baboon, aardwolf) followed by our name. After we all speak I can hear their soft chattering and whispers.
The teacher counts off the students into small groups, sending them to different corners of the classroom where each of us waits. Five students (three boys, two girls) drag chairs over to the corner by the window where I am sitting. They are quiet and all smiles. After getting through some basic get-to-know-you questions, I delve in and inquire:
“What is conservation to you?”
Before we arrived at the bright red and yellow painted concrete school building, Rebekah mentioned to us that unlike in the United States, the children in the Kunene region are raised surrounded by wildlife. Conservation is something they know and something they were brought up practicing.
Their responses to my question were concise, and honestly better than anything I could have come up with myself. Each one was some variation on what one fifteen year old boy put it as:
“It’s protecting something so you can have it in the future.”
If the people of the world lived by this statement, then so much of the environmental crisis and resource exploitation we face today would be on a path of recovery. These students’ predilection for protecting their environment isn’t just a value they say they have or something they learn in school; it is the way they live.
After discussing with my group, I lead them out to the patio to demonstrate the equipment and methods we use for wildlife monitoring research. I pass around my binoculars and show them how to determine an animal’s location using the compass and distance rangefinder. They were ebullient, taking turns running to a far away distance (within 100 meters) to see who could guess the closest to the number on the rangefinder.
I show them the equipment for another 15 minutes and then coalesce in a circle with Karissa, Sam, and Becca’s groups. We all play three rounds of “poison scorpion,” (a variation on a game I learned at camp this summer), then Rebekah suggests that they share a song with us to conclude our visit.
The students nervously shuffle their feet, looking at one another expectantly. Finally one girl steps forward into the circle with a confident voice that put goose bumps on my arms. The rest of them chime in with weaving harmonies, melodies and rhythm. We are wholly entranced by the talent and sound we are witnessing from this group school children.
As we depart, it is a frenzy of embraces, handshakes, and thank yous. Once the students are inside the building, the four of us plus Rebekah, Vehi, and Ricky (a local game guard), load up in the two trucks and head back to our camp.
Top photo: Rebecca McGehee teaching students how to use a compass. By Rebekah Karimi.