The Beauty and Danger of Ecotourism: Trekking the Highlands of Makira Island, Solomon Islands

Forward by BCN's Director Bernd Cordes

One of the benefits of working for BCN is that we sometimes have the opportunity to go to places we otherwise would never get a chance to visit. And, because of our relationships with our NGO partners and the community members, we have access to information, conversations and insights into local conditions that we would otherwise not get. That's what happened to Diane Russell, a former BCN Senior Program Officer who was based in Fiji. In 1998, she visited a BCN-funded conservation project in Makira, Solomon Islands. One part of the project there is to develop a sustainable, community-based ecotourism venture. So, she took the trip, but with a dual purpose. She went as a tourist, along for the guided ride through the forest and bringing her daughter with her. But it wasn't all play. She also went as a program officer partly responsible for the conservation and enterprise development work being done at the site. As she walked the trails and visited the villages, Diane kept notes as a tourist and as a partner in conservation, noting the good measure of success the business has had (e.g., Conde Nast travel magazine deemed this a stellar ecotourism destination and experience in the South Pacific), as well as its share of difficulties. Below are her notes, observations and experiences, which should be of interest to others doing similar work. For better or worse, her daughter's observations aren't included, though that too would have been an interesting read..............

The Beauty and Danger of Ecotourism: Trekking the Highlands of Makira Island, Solomon Islands

Ecotourism is often viewed as an ideal solution to the conservation and development dilemma: how to balance human use of biological resources with the protection of critical habitats and species. The concept is particularly attractive in the pacific islands where tourism is a dominant industry and local communities control their land. But what is the reality? What are the risks to habitats and to the local communities involved? Does ecotourism bring tangible benefits to a community? Is it truly compatible with conservation goals?

I examine these questions through the lens of my experience on a guided trek through the highlands of Makira, Solomon Islands in April 1998. Makira's Bauro communities, Conservation International (CI) and the Solomon Islands Development Trust, (SIDT), working together as the Conservation in Development (CID) Program organize this trek. The program is dedicated to conservation of the biodiversity of this unique island and the well being of the communities. In addition to the ecotour, the program also helps to manage a ngali nut (Canarium indicum) oil enterprise, and sponsors health, community-based monitoring and environmental education activities.

The Makira trek brings together a superb natural environment, cultural enhancement, appropriate cash benefits, and strong links to conservation. At present, it is a beautiful experience. But I encountered danger at every turn. The difficulties of setting up a sustainable enterprise in a remote location such as Makira cannot be underestimated. And community-based conservation is a process of negotiation and learning that often shreds the patience of local staff and leadership.

Makira Island, also known as San Cristobal Island, is 3090 sq. km: 139 km long by 40 km wide. Mountains run like a spine down the island's center: the highest point reaches 1040 m, then falls steeply to the sea along its southern shore. Many rivers penetrate the island in roughly parallel lines every two to five kilometers. Makira has more inland swamps--and saltwater crocodiles--than any other island in the Solomon Islands. Its coast is the only part of the Solomons where the rare olive, or Pacific Ridley, turtle is known to visit and nest.

Because Makira Island was isolated for long stretches of time during periods of high sea level, a wide variety of unique plants and animals evolved. For example, 12 of its 70 resident species of birds are endemic, as are two tree species, both figs (Ficus cristobalensis and Ficus illiberalis). This uniqueness highlights the importance of preserving Makira's forest habitat.

In 1992, the Central Bank of Solomon Islands estimated that all reserves of lowland forest would be cut down within eight to ten years. This unsustainable rate of extraction stems on the government side mainly from the desperate need to garner foreign exchange and perceived lack of alternatives. The reasons for landowner agreement to logging concessions include the desire for cash and status on the part of "big men." Many Makira communities have already succumbed to the relatively large amounts of cash that the logging companies offer people in order to cut high-grade timber on their land.

To resist these threats, the CID program established Makira's first conservation area, which consists of approximately 63,000 hectares of largely undisturbed indigenous vegetation, representing the second largest protected area in the South Pacific. Since the early 1990s, the program has been working with the Bauro communities to define the area and to identify enterprises whose viability is linked to the need to conserve the area's biodiversity.

In 1995, the CID consortium of CI, SIDT and the Maruia Society received a $US347, 574 grant from the Biodiversity Conservation Network (BCN) to support these activities, particularly to assist in the enterprise and monitoring work.

On April 12, 1998, my seven-year old daughter and I joined a group of six people on a trek across the riverbeds and up the steep hills of the central Bauro highlands. Our young guides met us at the end of the road that leads from the airport -- the only road on Makira. Porters took the heavy packs and started off, so that they would be there when we got to our first stop. The guides immediately put us at ease by chatting and telling us what we would expect. Their training and experience with tourists was evident.

After a stop at the village of Mato, we climbed up and down two steep hills to get to a lovely bend in the western tributary of the Ravo river known as the Ravorighi, or "small Ravo." A trail from the river led to a leaf house with a raised platform that served as our home for the night. The land for this rest house, in the area called Na'ara, is owned by ecotour manager John Waihuru's family. John and his family came down to meet us, to cook food and give us information about what we would be doing in the days to come.

The following day, after climbing up and down another steep hill, we reached the entry of Hunama village. As fatigued and hungry as the group was, we became highly alert -- astonished by our greeting. Upon entry into the village, which had been decorated in flowers and leaves, we were taken to a shaded reviewing stand to drink water and eat fruit. There we had our first serenade by the Hunama pan pipers, led by Dominic, one of our guides. Later, Dominic told us that he borrowed some panpipe melodies from popular and religious songs, but other melodies came from the songs of birds in the forest. We were delighted to hear about this link between the music and the forest.

Our layover day in Hunama was full of laughter, drama, music and feasting. The community had crafted a creative program designed to entertain and teach us about their culture and lifeways. We learned how, in a warrior's education, boys attempt to match their elders in the art of throwing spears. Two lively custom skits concerned the relations between humans and spirits. The village children enjoyed the show as much as the visitors did: they screamed in anticipation and hilarity at the antics of their neighbors and relatives. In contrast to the boisterous acts of the men, the women's groups singing Christian songs were shy and sweet. The visitors also introduced themselves one by one, sang a song or told a tale.

We watched demonstrations of traditional arts and crafts, including carving, food preparation, fire making and basket weaving. Villagers laid out the crafts and we purchased several items. A nice touch to the whole stay in Hunama was the presentation of hand-made bowls to each of the visitors to use throughout their stay. These carved bowls were identified by the name of the sculptor, and John Waihuru, who hopes to encourage and improve the local artists, marked those chosen in a book. He asked us for detailed comments on the design and construction of the bowls. Months later, when John came to my home in Fiji, he was pleased to see these crafts displayed.

As night fell, we gathered in the village commons again. A few kerosene lamps were lit. Beyond the circle of the lamps, the stars blazed with intensity rarely experienced by town dwellers. Seven-year old Eva gazed at a Milky Way she had never before seen so clearly. John Waihuru announced that we would have an evening of music, dance and sharing. He wanted to focus the discussion on conservation and the experiences of the visitors to the community.

But first the dance. Eva found a girl about her age and the two of them danced and ran through the crowd all evening. This freedom of village life -- to be part of the festivities that have a role for all ages, to have the run of the village with a pack of children -- has all but disappeared in the "developed" world. Virtually the whole village and all the visitors soon surrounded the circle of men and boys forming the panpipe band. The dancing turned carefree and experimental, mixing some pop and local styles.

Between the dances, our talk ranged over many topics. The Hunama people were above all concerned to understand more about conservation and the visitors' experiences. They were anxious to correct any problems and to improve the quality of the tour. Because Eva was the first non-local child to visit the area, they wanted to know if the food was adequate for her. Was the climate all right? What was it like in our place? Why do people want to come to Makira -- to Hunama?

We pondered the relation between conservation and health. For one, the altitude of the intact forest in the Hunama area helps prevent the spread of mosquitoes. Hunama was delightfully free of those pests, and the highland dwellers do not contract malaria as frequently as their coastal cousins do. Second, the forest provides medicines. Our guides had pointed out some medicinal plants to us during the trek. The water source flowing from the forested hilltops provides clean water, thus keeping the people relatively free of parasites and other illness. Finally, the abundance of food crops could be attributed to the health of the forest because long garden cycles allow for regeneration of the soil.

On day four, we went up the hill and across to Maraone. The visitors' first experience of Maraone began long before they actually saw the village. Where the terrain became extremely rugged, the community had built steps and banisters to guide the visitors. I felt that perhaps they knew I was coming! John Waihuru was surprised and pleased at the work that went into building this infrastructure -- a spontaneous innovation on the part of the community.

During our two days in Maraone, we were treated to demonstrations of custom skills, and wonderful skits that had us whooping with laughter. The view from the village, across the conservation area, was stunning. While shy, the people wanted to talk about our experience in their village, and to share stories. Maraone is the home village of some Bauro clans, a bit slower paced and more conservative than Hunama. The beauty of the place revealed itself in the details: the design of our gift beads and headdresses, the delicious ngali nut pudding, the village decorations, and the church service we were invited to attend.

Hauta was our final stop before returning to the coast. To assure a good journey, John and the guides decided to take us up across the ridge rather than down and up the ravines we had traversed to get to Maraone. We trekked through mossy forest with views of the southern "weather coast" of the island. We observed a flying fox, huge spiders perched on their webs across the path, an array of birds, flowers, caterpillars and butterflies.

The talk with John and the guides was as fascinating as the forest. I was amazed to find that, unlike my experience of African forests, there are no serious hazards in the forests of Makira: no dangerous snakes, insects or plants. Fire ants, which leave a burn when they land on the skin, are the worst hazards and they are relatively recent arrivals to the highlands. It began to seem like Makira was a Garden of Eden.

In this Eden, however, I learned that there were similar social problems to those I had encountered in Africa. These problems centered on jealousy that can inhibit initiative, and the corollary of finding ways to control the greed of a few individuals that can damage the social fabric. As cash enters a society, and cash values are placed on land, labor and natural products, more aggressive people can take advantage of others to claim land, establish large plantations or overhunt valuable species. In Solomon Islands, the laws governing access to timber and minerals encourage the division of communities, as those who support companies to get access can receive large cash rewards.

Hauta, the small village that harbors John Waihuru and his late wife's vision of a primary school and clinic to serve the Highland communities, perches on a gently sloping hill. Only three families now live in Hauta: John's, Paul Wori, the headmaster of the school, and Ephrem Waraba, a "refugee" from Bagohane. The panpipes greeted us again on arrival, led by the indomitable Dominic, who quickly switched from guide clothes to loincloth.

John and I sat down to discuss the enterprise. The transparent distribution of benefits is highly important. John records every transaction and together with other community leaders decides upon wage rates and who should get training. The allocation of payments to individuals can involve over 400 transactions for each tour. John's level of involvement in the enterprise is obviously not sustainable and he is training others to take on the financial records. But for the moment, John's active participation is critical to the functioning of the enterprise. He said that even after the money is allocated, people still come to wake him up before the light to ask about money issues.

The fifth and final day of the ecotour saw us trekking down from Hauta to the coast. We spent the night right near the beach at Togori rest house, which had been decorated with flowers and paper mobiles. The ecotour was over but the memories remained vivid. All those who went on the tour felt that it was unique -- almost magical. This ecotour experience seemed to be ideally suited to the level of economic development of the peoples of the highlands, and had the potential to encourage conservation. In 1997, the community sent away a Malaysian logging company. Village Resource Management Planning, to begin this year, will help people to decide how best to manage their human, biological and financial resources to deal with the intensification trends.

The beautiful aspects of this experience can teach others how to go about setting up a community-based ecotour:

This ecotour faces dangers shared by similar ventures. When these dangers are anticipated, strategies can be developed to counter them.

Strong leadership, careful planning and a relatively undisturbed and homogenous community contribute to the beauty of the Makira ecotour. Keeping the focus on conservation is critical. But even in the best of circumstances, ecotourism is only a partial solution to the conservation and development dilemma. It is not a magic bullet. A conservation area needs a suite of viable enterprises, supported by strong institutions at the community and national levels. Communities should not be expected to face the dangers to their resources and their livelihoods alone. They need appropriate policies, markets for their products, and links to like-minded people.

For the visitors, the ecotour brings awareness of linkages between community and biodiversity. At its most profound, it is a rite of passage to a more ecologically oriented worldview. Each visitor comes away not only with an experience in a specific community, but a vision to transform global culture. In this way, ecotourism can be a powerful tool for building a more sustainable world.

This issue was written by Diane Russell, Senior Program Officer/Social Scientist for BCN. Diane is a practicing anthropologist who has lived and worked in central Africa, Southeast Asia and the Pacific. Jessica Stabile contributed substantially to this paper and is co-author of a longer version of the paper.