July 2011

"It's moments like these when you realize in no uncertain terms the importance of nature to people, and the power of putting the future of these communities in their hands."

Five years ago, as the sun sank low off the northeastern coast of Mozambique, I sat on the gunnels of a dhow—the sleek wooden ships that have plied the waters here for centuries—with Peter Bechtel, who leads WWF's coastal marine program in the region. I asked Peter to tell me the three main measures of success for our work in Mozambique. He answered that as far as he was concerned, there were really only two: How much of the reef is protected? And how much fish do people catch?

Peter's response speaks volumes about the way we measure our mission, and the value of nature to people. Consider coral reefs. Seen through one lens they are a kaleidoscope of color, enchanting the viewer with the wonder of the diversity of life in the sea. Seen through another lens they function as fish factories, producing protein for hundreds of millions of people and a source of income in some of the poorest places on Earth. Two different values; both important.

This past December I returned to Mozambique's Quirimbas archipelago, this time with the Boards of WWF and CARE, our partner in combining conservation with initiatives to help local communities lift themselves out of poverty. We'd worked with a community here to map what was important to them—sea grass beds, coral reefs, the connection of mangroves—in the place where they felt their fishery could be best conserved. We combined that with scientific studies to design a community-managed Marine Protected Area (MPA). CARE's CEO, Helene Gayle, and I were asked to demarcate the first boundaries of the new protected area.

At the end of the trip we stepped into another dhow, heavily laden with concrete balls attached by polypropylene lines to bright orange buoys. We joined leaders from the local fishing and religious communities. Standing next to the mast was a young man, working for the local park service, with a Global Positioning System unit in his hands. He studied the device and when we reached the right coordinates, he gave us the signal. Helene hoisted the buoy, I hoisted the concrete ball and we threw them in together. Amidst the spray and the noise, we pulled drums and whistles from under the gunnels. A spontaneous celebration began as the community acquired the authority to police these boundaries and their catch.

It's moments like these when you realize in no uncertain terms the importance of nature to people, and the power of putting the future of these communities in their hands. Saving these resources doesn't just save the reef—it also empowers the people who depend on that reef to steward the resources that sustain them.

By any measure, that equals success.

- Carter S. Roberts