Whereas many agriculturally

based rural communities

may accept the economic

values attached to wildlife,

other sources of security

such as maintaining and

consolidating signifi cant

social relations through

culturally mediated

resource distributions are

also important.

Back to the Future: Some Unintended Consequences of Zambia’s Community-Based Wildlife Program (ADMADE)Stuart A. Marks

Community-based wildlife programs were implemented widely in southern Africa during the past two decades to attempt to overcome the problems associated with the earlier strict protection policies and to integrate wildlife conservation with human development. Many of these programs now have a history, making it possible to assess their achievements and unresolved problems. A case study from the central Luangwa Valley of Zambia provides indices of cultural and resource trends before and after the implementation of a community-based program and describes its effects.

Introduction

Within the past two decades, community-based wildlife programs have proliferated in southern Africa (Kiss 1990; Brandon and Wells 1992). Begun in the late 1980s, national programs such as Zimbabwe’s Communal Areas Management Program for Indigenous Resources (CAMPFIRE) and Zam-bia’s Administrative Management Design for Game Management Areas (ADMADE) were followed in the 1990s by programs in Botswana (Natural Resources Management Program—NRMP) and in Namibia (Living in a Finite Environment—LIFE). Pushed and funded by donor agencies, these international and national attempts to integrate conservation with human welfare have spent millions of dollars and accumulated a history upon which to evaluate their results.

Protected areas such as national parks and game reserves are consid-ered an essential part of conserving Africa’s biological diversity (Pimbert and Pretty 1995). During the colonial era, many areas were gazetted as game reserves and their human inhabitants removed and resettled elsewhere. As African countries gained political independence, these spaces were elevated to higher legislative status as national parks (Abel and Blaikie 1986). By the

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late 1970s, conservationists became concerned that these protected areas had become islands surrounded by human poverty and increasingly vulner-able to encroachments and incursions.1 Human communities neighboring these protected areas continued to suffer resource constraints and damage to their crops or livestock by wild animals (Parry and Campbell 1992; Infi eld and Namara 2001). Further, rural communities had become legally dispos-sessed of their wildlife rights through the state’s management practices of license controls, protection policies, and enforcement through its coercive military culture (Peluso 1993; Hitchcock 2000). Conservationists were con-vinced that wildlife and protected areas would disappear unless local com-munities became more integrated with and benefi ted from these areas.

The International Union for Conservation of Nature (now the World Conservation Union) offi cially opened this new détente through its World Conservation Strategy in 1980 (IUCN 1980). This rapprochement linking conservation and development focused donor assistance throughout the region on community-based wildlife projects. These connections within biodiversity projects were further strengthened by the Convention on Bio-logical Diversity that became operational in 1993. Now signed by more than 175 nations including those in the southern Africa region, this con-vention explicitly recognizes the role of indigenous and local communi-ties in conserving biodiversity as well as the importance of maintaining their knowledge and practices relevant to conservation and sustainable use. Further, the convention links sustainable use specifi cally with the equitable sharing of benefi ts from the use of their knowledge and innova-tions (Glowka, Burhenne-Guilmin, Synge 1994).

Besides the sometime confl ictive agendas of development and con-servation, donor agencies also brought their own baggage of participation, decentralization, gender, transparency, and democratization to the collab-orative table of project development. Donors recognized that African states possessed declining capacities to manage resources and the re-emergence of democratic aspirations in some quarters encouraged these agencies to emphasize the devolution of some resource rights to rural communities (Wilson 1997). The stimulus, funding, staffi ng, and concepts for these integrated wildlife programs did not come from the rural communities, nor were resources expended to make these programs more community friendly (Metcalf 1996). The communities were expected to receive projects gratefully as passive recipients, to participate in proscribed “committees,” and to accept benefi ts in prescribed packages.

A major challenge facing wildlife conservation today in Africa is whether rural people will fi nd conservation and its restrictions suffi ciently attractive to incorporate it into their livelihood activities and behavior (IIED 1994). Under most community-based wildlife initiatives, local people are expected to forgo their “opportunity costs” of living with wildlife together with their “traditional” access rights in exchange for strictly economic benefi t streams generated from wildlife uses by outsiders. Whereas many

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agriculturally based rural communities may accept the economic values attached to wildlife, other sources of security such as maintaining and con-solidating signifi cant social relations through culturally mediated resource distributions are also important. Sustaining these resource networks while perpetuating cultural and social identities are central concerns for the sur-vival of many small-scale communities in diffi cult environments (Anderson 2001).

This paper explores the extent to which the failure in Zambia to achieve local wildlife conservation through the ADMADE initiative resulted from an inappropriate understanding of the specifi c context of wildlife uses and related livelihood practices within its Game Management Areas (GMAs). ADMADE presumed that rural residents would be converted to conservation largely as a matter of economics and expediency and that this objective could be accomplished through establishing an alliance with the “traditional authority” (i.e., the chief) as its main link within these rural communities (Lewis, Kaweche, and Mwenya 1990). Although recent legislation and the restructuring of the wildlife estate under the Zambian Wildlife Authority may bring about substantial changes, new conserva-tion initiatives to become effectively embedded in community processes must grapple with the role and signifi cance of key resources in marginal agricultural communities and with those actors traditionally responsible for their procurement, management, and distribution.

I argue this point based on an ongoing case study from the central Luangwa Valley of Zambia. After an initial description of the Valley Bisa and their strategic location, I explore the wider signifi cance of natural resources and food security within the context of their social relations. This discussion examines the importance of meat and use values of wildlife together with the role of local hunters in procuring game within the context of lineage affi liation. Next, I consider the ways that ADMADE has impacted these communities within the context of their modifi ed strategies for coping. With wildlife remaining a crucial and signifi cant resource, resi-dents often see government agents as a problem around which they must maneuver. There is evidence that ADMADE created a resource congeries from what once was an effective system based upon local institutions. Such a perspective indicates that this program has only marginally benefi ted rural communities while increasing state control in these rural areas (Ferguson 1994; Munro 1998). As household and lineage methods of taking wildlife have turned increasingly from guns to the indiscriminate method of snar-ing, the resulting impacts upon wildlife have been devastating. Lastly, I make some suggestions about the prospects for crafting conservation within the context of local knowledge and expertise in conjunction with national and international objectives. The implementation of these ideas will depend upon building trust among all parties and upon negotiated and iterative agendas.

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Place and Time

The Valley Bisa have resided in the Luangwa Valley for more than two hundred years—suffi cient time to develop a variety of skills and knowledge enabling them to cope within this uncertain physical environment. Until the late 1930s, their small scattered settlements were found throughout the central valley on both sides of the Luangwa River. With the creation of the game reserves by the colonial administration, the Valley Bisa were restricted to a corridor of land west of the Luangwa River.2 This area of some 3100 square kilometers is called the Munyamadzi Corridor by outsiders, named after the perennial stream that fl ows from the escarpment eastwards through its center to the Luangwa river.3 The corridor is separated from the high plateau to the west by a steep escarpment and surrounded on the other sides today by national parks. Currently there are about 6000 Valley Bisa residing in the corridor, mostly settled along the banks of the perennial streams. The residence of their Chief, Nabwalya, is located near its center and it is here that most of my subsequent observations have taken place over the past thirty-fi ve years.

The Munyamadzi Corridor is a designated Game Management Area (GMA) where legal access to wildlife is controlled through a series of licenses and regulations. The game laws are enforced by members of the Zambian National Parks and Wildlife Service (now the Zambia Wildlife Authority) in association with numerous local village scouts. The area’s two hunting concessions are among Zambia’s premier safari hunting blocks and annually generate foreign exchange for the ADMADE program each year in addition to the funds for treasury.4 Implemented in 1987, ADMADE is the “community-based” wildlife management program whose conserva-tion philosophy is based upon “sustainable” harvests of wild animals. Funds derived from these legal takes and licenses are shared according to a speci-fi ed formula—40% for local wildlife management, 35% for community development, 25% retained by national government (Lewis et al. 1991).

Legally restricted in their uses of land and resources to this corridor now, generations of Valley Bisa have depended upon takes of wildlife to supplement their foraging and cultivations. It is only recently that they have felt the severe impositions of state wildlife restrictions under ADMADE. The presence of tsetse fl y in the Luangwa Valley, the vector for trypanoso-miasis, precludes the keeping of domestic stock. As a consequence, wildlife has been and continues as an important source of animal protein. The activities of local residents to acquire “bushmeat”5 assumes local mean-ing within the context of their historic survival strategies and within ADMADE’s attempts to restrict local off-takes to increase wildlife popula-tions for the more lucrative tourist and safari industries. The immediacy of the National Parks contributes to the abundance of wildlife locally just as the persistence of hunting and snaring skills among its human inhabitants attests to wildlife’s value within their economy and livelihoods. Currently, most local wildlife harvests are illegal (without license or permit), belong

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to the “second economy” (MacGaffey 1991), and have become part of a “hidden transcript” in cultural survival (Scott 1990).

Beyond their cultural preference for wildlife meat, the Valley Bisa primarily depend upon shifting agriculture and migrant labor with most men, and increasingly women, participating in urban migration. The fre-quency and pervasiveness of individual movements between urban and rural communities suggest the complex connections between the central Luangwa Valley and elsewhere. For stable crops, residents depend upon local varieties of sorghums and maize augmented by the cultivation of sweet potatoes, cassava, millets, groundnuts, and various introduced varieties. Success at agricultural tasks often demands group rather than individual strategies and highlights the importance of cooperative networks for sus-taining livelihoods. During recent decades, valley residents have suffered frequent famines, droughts, and epidemics as well as serious depredations by wildlife.

Livelihoods and Natural Resource Use

The concept of livelihood relates to the ways in which a social group sup-ports itself within an environment while providing the necessities of life—including sustenance, housing and health/welfare. Livelihoods involve deci-sions by individuals and by groups as they strive to make a living, to meet their various needs, to cope with uncertainties, to respond to new opportunities, and to make choices within a particular socioeconomic, cultural, and ecological frame. These frames encompass both global and national issues (Scoones 1998). Global concerns such as conservation and market forces impact on local practices through the presence of external agents promoting these ideas and practices. Wildlife enforcement agents represent such outside concerns and may have little empathy for the plights of local people. Local perspectives recognize that livelihood practices are not disembodied from the social relations that bind individuals and groups. Further, issues of social identity are in the foreground and involve more than the mere immediate satisfaction of wants.

Livelihood practices and strategies of the Valley Bisa are based on shifting cultivation and the use of natural resources supplemented where possible with labor remittances and temporary work. The collection of natural resources, involving wild plants, forest products, fi shing and hunt-ing, is an integral part of their agricultural activities. Their livelihoods are shaped by various social commitments and obligations in addition to household priorities for food and income. For some residents, food security is an annual concern, for many others it is a seasonal problem. Flooding of fi elds, drought conditions, and cycles of agricultural pests (rodents, birds and insects) all contribute to the uncertainties of producing crops within the Luangwa valley. These problems are partly addressed through redistributive mechanisms based on cooperative networks of kin relations.

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How the members of a social group allocate their time among various activities is one way of depicting livelihoods. There are two such studies for the Valley Bisa. The initial study between 1966 and 1967 was based on the daily recall of time spent in various activities by adult residents of a small village (six men, eight women). Their cyclical nature of cultivation mirrors the rainy season, with land preparation followed by planting before the fi rst rains (late October) and harvesting occurring during the early dry season (April and May). Land clearing, sowing, and harvesting are labor-intensive activities, as are methods of crop protection against large and small animals, fl ocks of grain eating birds, and insects. A histogram shows that this group spent most of its time during this year in cultivating domestic crops, in collecting, preparing, and consuming cultivated and wild products, and in various aspects of social life (Marks 1976: 57). The second study from October 1988–June 1989 selected four men and four women as representatives of existing status, wealth, and age categories around the chief’s village. Trained observers followed and timed the activities of these individuals on a randomly selected workday each week. The recorded distribution of their time among various activity categories provides a more recent overview of how these residents construct their livelihoods (Table 1).6 Men spent slightly over one third (36.6%) of their time in managing, purs-ing, preparing, and consuming wild and domestic food resources. Women spent more than half (52.8%) of their time so engaged. Wage labor is more accessible to men as are opportunities for travel and for sharing information

Table 1Time allocation within activity categories during an average day

during the agricultural season (November 1988 through June 1989) summarized by gender. Nabwalya, Central Luangwa Valley, Zambia

Activity Category Men Women % (hours) % (hours)

Settlement 6.6 (0.8) 5.5 (0.7)Agricultural Labor 19.9 (2.4) 23.0 (2.8)Wage/Exchange Labor 13.7 (1.7) 0.9 (0.1)Wild Food Collection/Preparation/Eating 16.7 (2.0) 29.8 (3.6)Leisure/Entertaining Visitors 14.7 (1.8) 7.9 (1.0)Visiting 6.2 (0.7) 7.1 (0.9)At Beer 9.0 (1.1) 4.8 (0.6)Meetings/Funerals 4.5 (0.5) 4.4 (0.5)Child Care/Household 1.3 (0.2) 4.3 (0.5)Implement Manufacture/Care 4.7 (0.6) 0.3 (0.0)River Chores 0.1 (0.0) 8.2 (1.0)Hygiene 2.6 (0.4) 3.4 (0.4)Other 0.2 (0.0) 0.4 (0.1)

Average hours observed per day 12.2 12.2Total hours observed 1755.9 1760.3Total days 144 144Persons 4 4

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on the broader world. Hunting and trapping are normative activities for men and boys whereas fi shing is done by both sexes, albeit using different methods.

Social Relations and Wildlife Use

In rural Africa, social relations are a fundamental part of the organization of small-scale agrarian societies. Consequently, these relationships are at the core of livelihoods and food security (Moore and Vaughan 1992; Berry 1992). Social relations commonly include both living and dead members of a particular group. As with their ethnic neighbors, the Valley Bisa are matrilineal in matters of descent, affi liation, social status, inheritance, and succession. Typically, relatives reside in villages or more recently in small settlements with an elder serving as a headman or ritual leader. Usually today the headman is a man, a brother to the main core of sisters and their households of spouses and children. Becoming a headman or a person of local status surrounded by kin is a normative aspiration and expectation for most Bisa men and his matrilineage is the relevant focal group.

Although their importance is differentially acknowledged by being denied, banned, or discouraged, the numbers of small spirit shrines (mfuba) scattered in settlements testifi es to the importance attributed to the ances-tors of the residential group. These shrines feature in many lineage rituals as testimonials of the ways in which the memories of past matrilineal mem-bers are acknowledged in present activities. Hunters often solicit ancestral aid for protection and for securing game before proceeding into the bush. They use a small gourd (nkombo), named for their guardian spirit, and place a small offering in its opening. Because spirits are said to respond on behalf of the lineage, ancestral responses to one hunter’s outcome may be interpreted variously. His failure to secure prey over several days may suggest ancestral denial following the inappropriate distribution from his previous kills or following confl icts among kin. On the other hand, ancestral spirits may facilitate his hunting by overshadowing animal spirits, by lead-ing him to vulnerable game, and by preventing his detection by wildlife scouts.7

Status among hunters is generally recognized by the types of pre-scriptions (medicines or umuti) possessed and the types of misfortunes overcome. Since some wild animals possess dangerous spirits (or shades, chibanda) these must be appropriately rested otherwise they are believed to cause harm either to the hunter or to members of his lineage. Knowledge of these rites traditionally belonged to the elder hunters, some of whom were also said to possess powers that could compel wild animals (crocodiles, lions, elephants, hippos, buffalos) to kill or maim specifi c individuals.8 Local expositions of circumstances in terms of the social relations among kin (including mediation by ancestors) are often the idioms in which these events are discussed and manipulated at the local level. Furthermore, such explanations sanction against unacceptable behavior, of which the denial

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of respect and obligations toward certain kin and senior lineage relatives are given prominence.

The signifi cance of hunting practices relates as much to its cultural and symbolic values as to its economic importance (Richards 1939; Turner 1957). The symbolism of hunting in Malawi, for example, has been described as a “dialectic between subsistence agriculture, focused around a group of matrilineally related women—in the context of which mammals are seen as opposed to human well-being and hunting, which is centered around men” or in-marrying men. Thus the roles of women are closely identifi ed with agriculture, the matrilineal kin group and the village community, while the roles of men are identifi ed with woodlands, wild mammals, hunting and masculinity” (Morris 1998: 1;). As an activity coded with socially constructed signifi cance such as masculine identity, hunting and the role of the local hunter are a bit more than overcoming the practicalities of putting meat in relish dishes. Mediated through the main activities central to livelihoods, the demands and priorities of various social relations become fused with the hunter’s own interests and strategies. In this way, specifi c resources (such as wildlife) become the products of meaningful actions in determinant social and historical contexts and are not reducible to mere economics.

As a form of social capital, game meat works like grains and other important natural resources and commodities. Its uses and the individual tactics in its distribution can either augment existing social ties or create tensions and jealousies that tend to erode them. As a key resource, access to meat was institutionalized until rather recently in the selection, rituals, and expectations of lineage hunters.

Transformations in Hunting and Relationships to Wildlife

Although only men normally take wildlife and capture it by a variety of means, comparatively few individuals are recognized as “hunters” (bachib-inda) in the local idiom. These men may appear as “poachers” or “criminals” in various government reports, yet they possess more tenaciousness and local charisma among their dependents than these outsider reporters know. Local hunters are individuals who attest to a “dream summons” prompted by a revered ancestor which sanctions his calling and status, who possess a “guardian protective presence” (an ancestral ghost), who have spent a period of training under an elder, and who have inherited or has access to a lineage weapon—usually a muzzle-loading gun or modern weapon (Marks 1979). Other ways of taking wildlife for household consumption or for exchange are well known, but none has the status and prestige given those possessing guns. While still in use, these methods of bow and arrow, various traps, downfalls, game pits and snares have been illegal by various governmental proclamations for over a century.

A brief overview of the plight of local hunters refl ects some of the traumas and transitions in Valley Bisa cultural life and is background for

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understanding the continuing importance of wildlife at the local level. As a route for achieving local status for some men, hunting has undergone several transformations during the twentieth century (Freehling and Marks 1998). In broad terms, these changes may be characterized as a movement from the corporate activities of organized guilds employing specialized techniques to more sporadic and individualized pursuits using a variety of methods; from an open activity with public rituals (lineage ceremonies and distribution after kills) to punctuate life cycle events (inheritance of guardian shades and weapons, fi rst kills, etc.) to secrecy and surreptitious means; from a resource system with local control (lineage husbandry) to a resource congeries (during the late 1970s and 1980s) to an imposed resource regime (ADMADE 1987–1990s); and from internal controls and manage-ment to external impositions and enforcement. The methods of take have cycled from local procedures (snares, downfalls, pits, poisoned arrows, spears) to capital stock (muzzle-loading guns, shotguns, rifl es) back to local means supplemented by external technologies (wire snares, machine guns, game pits, poisonous chemicals). Even the takers of wildlife have changed from elders (who controlled the authority and symbols of the hunt) and middle-aged men (seeking recognition for their prowess) increasingly to younger men with little or no supervision.

Within the past decade, frequent and prolonged droughts interspersed with too much rain and fl oods have made Valley Bisa agriculture increas-ingly uncertain as have plagues of rats, birds, and mammals. Devastating diseases, such as cholera, dysentery, and AIDS have strained relations and expectations among lineage members and between generations. The decline in the Zambian economy has decreased job opportunities for migrant work-ers with many potential laborers staying in the valley or returning there to cope with diminished expectations (Burdette 1988). Rather than living in defi ned villages as during the 1960s and 1970s, households are currently scattered in smaller settlements.

This fragmentation into smaller settlements and impoverishment is the cultural context in which snaring has greatly increased. Unlike guns, snaring is diffi cult to control (Lewis and Phiri 1998; Lewis 2000a). Once learned, snaring provides access to wildlife whose products of meat, trophies, and skins are readily converted into cash—an asset enabling the younger generation of men to accomplish goals unavailable to their elders at a comparable stage in their lives. Today young men typically marry at an earlier age, establish separate households, and often possess commodities unavailable to their elders. Their attainment of some formal education distinguishes them as a class distinct from that of their parents. Natural calamities and lineage squabbles make smaller settlements more adaptive as fewer dependents and space between households allow the retention of some wealth by those possessing it. Yet, a main objective in securing possessions and sharing still remains a masculine ideal.

Given this social factionalism and the importance of secrecy to escape detection by the wildlife scouts, bushmeat once obtained is not widely

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shared. Whereas earlier, many relatives benefi ted from the efforts of a few hunters who pursued larger mammals such as buffalo, today the many takers of smaller bucks benefi t mainly themselves. One consequence is that wild meat has shifted from a key element in reciprocity among relatives to, where the market is available, a commodity for strangers to purchase if cash is needed for other necessities.

The ADMADE Intervention and Its Effects on Local Livelihoods

The most recent government intervention, ADMADE aimed to conserve wildlife based on off-takes of wild animals with some of this revenue (chiefl y from sport hunting and culling operations) administered through the Wildlife Conservation Revolving Fund (WCRF). Both project concep-tion and implementation was “top down,” prescriptive, and focused more on wildlife than on local people—a characteristic common in many such programs (IIED 1994). ADMADE has experienced diffi culties both politi-cally and administratively. Despite numerous attempts at restructuring it, the WCRF has lacked transparency and accountability with funds untimely delayed in reaching their targets and often misappropriated. Communities were largely kept in the dark as to the amounts of funds generated through safari hunting and tourism on their lands. Moreover, communities through their wildlife committee were allowed to spend funds only in designated and appropriate categories of expenditures (a school, clinic, road building, etc.) Secondly, a few key political players (notably the chiefs and members of their lineages) have monopolized both the allocation of these funds designated for GMA development and other important decision-making capacities (Nabwalya, Leumbe, and Chitungulu 1994). Chiefs gave preferen-tial employment to members of their own lineages through the village scout program and retained control over the form and placements of community developments (Gibson 1999). As ADMADE was purposefully designed to work within existing authority structures, such practices had the effect of marginalizing the broader community, represented by other lineages, from active participation (USAID/Zambia 1993).

The protection of wildlife through the recruitment and employment of local village scouts was envisioned as the main way for ADMADE to increase community participation and to provide benefi ts. Their employ-ment has defi nitely increased local payrolls, yet these same scouts have been used selectively against the project’s local detractors and against other lineages. For the most part, the wider community has experienced insidious inside policing and wildlife enforcement that has seriously impacted upon their access to wildlife protein and driven these practices underground (Leader-Williams and Milner-Gulland 1993; Gibson and Marks 1995). For a few households with connections to scouts and chiefs, access to wildlife is easy, but for most residents this is not the case.

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These effects upon local nutrition are apparent in diachronic stud-ies of the percentages of meat consumed in a sample of residents’ meals. Local meals consist of two main constituents—a stiff doughlike porridge of sorghum or maize fl our and water (nshima) consumed with a relish dish (munani) containing a main component of meat or vegetables. Between 1966 and 1967, a yearlong nutritional study showed that wildlife comprised 38% of daily relish dishes consumed in 19 households from three villages (Marks 1976). Later studies over shorter periods in 1973 and 1978 found these percentages at 32% and 41% respectively (Marks 1984). In 1988 and 1989, observations were that the proportion of game meat had decreased to 29%. This latter study indicated considerable disparity in meat consump-tion between segments of the population since household consumption of meat and fi sh relish dishes ranged from 61% to 14% over this period.

ADMADE restrictions make most local uses of wildlife illegal; con-sequently, households have responded in their own clandestine ways. Most households have turned increasingly to snaring and to resource congeries to assure their own survival. Those who own guns have modifi ed their tactics to maximize their chances of success while minimizing detection by the scouts. These tactics include the location of more distant hunting grounds, the timing of hunts, the preparation and butcher of carcasses in the bush, and the portage of meat to the settlement under cover of darkness.9 As scouts use gunshots to orient their investigations of supposed illegal activities, the more silent and subtle practices of snaring have become the method of choice for securing wildlife.

If ADMADE’s transfer payments to benefi ciaries in the Munyamadzi Corridor were meaningful at the local level, then we would expect a decrease in number of arrests for wildlife violations through time. This reduction has not occurred. Any reduction in numbers of arrests appear as more a function of diffi culties in implementing the program in an isolated GMA than in effectiveness or in changing behavior (Gibson and Marks 1995). These continued offtakes of wildlife by whatever means exemplify the confl ict that exists between the local community’s value for wildlife and those which are externally imposed.

A review of the local minutes of the Munyamadzi Wildlife Subcom-mittee (1987–1997) also shows that many imposed interventions have failed as well. These interventions include gender and democratic representative-ness, transparency, and equity issues (Mano Consulting Services 1998). For the most part, this subcommittee consisted of its chairman and the cadre of civil servants from around the chief’s compound. Although it did meet to pass occasional resolutions of local concerns, these had little or no consequence. Its main function was largely an exercise in making decisions about the use of community revenues from ADMADE (Marks 1999).

Where ADMADE may claim some visible success is with the come-back of elephants. Large populations of these pachyderms were slaugh-tered illegally by commercial agents during the late 1970s and throughout

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the 1980s, and have begun recovering some of their numbers under restric-tive enforcement policies (Balakrishnan and Ndhlovu 1992; Cohen 1994). Whereas this turn around in elephant populations is welcomed by conser-vationists, elephants can and do wreak havoc in local cultivation. Much to the consternation of local settlers, ADMADE has provided neither leader-ship nor protection against elephants raiding fi elds—especially as residents remember elephant control as an important feature of management under the colonial government. Locals complain that even when scouts are pre-sented with elephants in the process of raiding, they are reluctant to act and make a variety of excuses for their inaction. There is no compensation to the owner of a raided fi eld except if the raider is killed, and even then scouts often claim the meat for themselves or for the District. And when cultivators try to protect themselves against a crop raider, they may fi nd themselves being prosecuted.

A more insidious impact of ADMADE enforcement is its effects on furthering social tensions among local residents. Strong sentiments and expectations over wild meat motivate some individuals to become inform-ers when they know of kills and they have been left out of distribution networks. Rewards have been offered for illegal guns and for other wildlife infractions. Scouts often search for animal remains around settlements, for meat in cooking pots, and for permits designating proper ownership of animal products such as skins on chairs. These activities have created a hard wall that separates insider from outsider.

The Reversion to Snaring

Always a method in the arsenal of rural residents, snaring was not a promi-nent technique for taking wildlife during the 1960s and 1970s. At this time, immediately following independence, wildlife was abundant in the neighborhood of villages and enforcement of state regulations within the valley was sporadic and generally ineffective. Most residents lived in large villages under a headman. A consistent and stable resource complex existed in which local hunters with muzzle-loading guns were in the ascendancy (Firey 1960). Such hunters were few and their roles sanctioned by lineage rituals and expectations to which they generally complied. During this period, each adult resident was estimated to consume 91.5 kg of meat/year that came from the prowess of local hunters and was subsidized by govern-ment elephant control operations. At this time, residents attributed the fact that wildlife could be observed in their fi elds and near their residences to the relative absence of snares. Most gun hunting took place within three kilometers or less of their villages (Marks 1976). In subsequent years, the increasing use of snares became a response to the liabilities of taking wildlife with guns and arrests by wildlife scouts. This association was clear to the following resident at the beginning of the ADMADE regime:

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As the situation is now, numerous game guards and wildlife scouts have produced a meat shortage about which we are all talking. I have thought about ways of solving this problem. Despite ADMADE, the demand to hunt continues to ring in my head. I am forced (causative tense) to snare to continue my obligations to my relatives. Guns do make a noise and attract the attention of scouts. As far as my spirits are concerned, using wire snares is the same as killing animals with guns. Ancestral spirits are impressed when animals are killed by their descendents in any way. There are many ways to supply meat for relatives. (Anonymous Headman A 1989)

As a technique for taking wildlife, snaring carries much of the same cultural baggage as hunting with guns. Snaring for birds and small bucks around settlements and fi elds is a prevalent activity of younger boys, who are expected to protect household fi elds and to supply much of their own animal protein. Snaring is easily learned, employs readily available materi-als, secures its prey often without audible noise, is diffi cult to detect, and its activities blend readily with routine chores. A snared beast is unlikely to have claimants if detected by outsiders. These attributes contrast to the more structured arrangements formerly practiced by those who used guns. Since guns as a capital investment cannot readily be replaced if seized by game scouts, the more subtle practices of snaring has become the practice of choice for most households within the Munyamadzi Corridor and other Luangwa Valley GMAs (Marks et al. 1989; Lewis 2000a).

A snarer’s strategy is put together on a daily basis. As he moves about the neighborhood reconnoitering for household resources such as fi ber, poles, medicines, and foods, a snarer also scans for fresh animal signs. A local proverb, “when you go into the bush, you go for everything” (kayenda m’chire wayendera zonze) summarizes this tactic. He interprets behavior and signs for patterns upon which are based his calculations for trapping. Local knowledge about scout movements and activities are not neglected.

Two studies on the snaring activities of cooperative residents suggests both its effectiveness in securing prey and its importance in household strategies. In 1988 and 1989, eight individuals of various ages keep records of the wildlife caught by their deployed snares and reported the results on a weekly basis. The main species taken by this method include impala (50) followed by warthog (17), buffalo (11), wildebeest (6), bushbuck (5), puku (5) and other species in lesser amounts.10 For comparison, I have listed takes in terms of kilograms of meat yields (carcass yield) rather than species (Table 2). Together these offtakes of wildlife represent 21 buffalo units (evaluated at 366 kg. each) or 237 impala units (at 32 kg. each).11 The kilograms attributed in the table to “others” suggests the secrecy and the diffi culty of knowing ownership claims given evidence. The prime prey of impala and warthog indicates that the meat would be shared only with close kin. The take of

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a larger mammal, such as a buffalo, involves larger risks of detection by wildlife scouts as more people are involved in butchering and in consump-tion.

During September and October 1997, four individuals took ten mam-mals (1577 kg of bushmeat) using snares. Species taken were buffalo (4), impala (3), and one each of warthog, puku, and kudu. By this time, snaring had become prominent and many of the previous norms surrounding their use had lapsed. All four individuals reported that some or all of their snares were stolen during these two months. More telling was the recorder’s notes that accompanied these observations:

In nowadays, every man here is a trapper. Snaring is the only way of getting or killing animals. Even children aged ten years are good trappers. Even people of 70 or 82 years are setting wire snares. Guns are seldom used. Very shortly, we will be using bow and arrows putting poison on them. In the past years, snaring was mostly used during the dry season, but now snaring is used throughout the year. Some ones can kill many animals by snares, more than with a gun. Very soon young women will begin setting snares. (Anonymous Headman B 1997)

Table 2Amounts of bushmeat (in kilograms) taken by individuals through snaring.

Central Luangwa Valley, 1988–89

Individual Age Kilograms Of Bushmeat* (years) In 1988 in 1989+

BP 19 521 759 WB 20 30 MN 21 531 85 PN 31 1605 138 EF 39 393 140 FF 41 1315 567 FJ 45 85 101 GJ 75 135 Others@ Various 268 917 Total 4718 2572

*Species taken included buffalo, waterbuck, impala, warthog, wildebeest, puku, bushbuck, zebra, grysbok, lion, hyena, antbear, and porcupine. Weights of carcass is given in terms of carcass yield (estimated butchered weight, generally 45–65% of live weight) such as male buffalo, 272 kg, female buffalo 272 kg., male impala 32 kg., male warthog 53 kg., female warthog 37 kg, wildebeest 61 kg, etc.

+ January through July only; study ended in July 1989.@ Carcass noted, trapper remained unidentifi ed.

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The Impacts of Snaring on Wildlife

As yet ADMADE has not implemented suitable methods for adequately monitoring the changing status of wildlife populations within the GMAs and has ignored traditional skills and knowledge. Instead ADMADE con-tinues to assess wildlife through indicators such as safari operator success with a given species, trophy measurements, anecdotal information, and aerial surveys that continue to privilege its role in enforcement (Jachmann and Matambo 1998; Lewis 2000b; Lyons 2000). Nonetheless, wildlife counts taken in collaboration with residents of the central Munyamadzi GMA since 1966 and more systematically beginning in 1989 allow a reasonable interpretation for wildlife trends particularly in the 1990s (Marks1996).

The status and trends for wildlife populations within the central por-tion of the Munyamadzi GMA is a good indicator of whether governmental conservation programs and trade-offs are working at the household levels. An assumption implicit in many of these projects is that by letting com-munities participate and accept revenues for building schools, wells, clinics, and other developments that residents will police their ranks and decrease their offtakes of wild animals. If this assumption is correct, then one can assume that wildlife populations would remain stable or show increases in GMAs under ADMADE.

Comparing the wildlife counts taken between 1966 and 1967 close to villages with those taken in the same location in 1988 and 1989 shows a 50 percent reduction in numbers seen. The larger groupings for impala, zebra and warthog were observed during the later period further from the settlements. Observations of wildlife groupings closer to the village were mainly of individuals or smaller groups more sensitive to human move-ments and activities. For counts between 1989 and 1993, the numbers of smaller species (such as warthog, impala and zebra) had decreased signifi -cantly (in a statistical sense) in terms of search time. In terms of percentage of total mammals observed, species retained their ranks with impala the most abundant followed by buffalo and zebra. By 1993, wildebeest had replaced warthog as the next abundant species. Trends for hippo decreased during this period while those for elephants showed fl uctuating increases. Counts between 1997 and 1999 show further decreases for many of the smaller game species. Whereas these wildlife trends may be attributed to a multiplicity of causes, the main cause remains legal and illegal off-takes by various human groups.

While snaring is a strategy intended to avoid detection by other humans, it has important effects on wildlife populations, effects that have not been in the planning documents of any community-based wildlife management program. Snaring is a nonselective method that takes prey without reference to sex, age, or species. Thus conservationists intending to manage wildlife populations through these programs lose even more control over the very animals they were seeking to conserve.

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Discussion and Conclusion

This case study describes several issues of relevance to community-based conservation projects. Within any project area, local resource users (lineage elders, hunters, trappers, herbalists of various kinds, gatherers) already may have claims to local natural resources in terms of their own livelihoods and identities especially where their environments are marginal for agriculture. Further such claims may be backed by institutional arrangements including intimate knowledge and customary skills which can be used to enhance the perpetuation of their users, to conserve the resource base, or to distract from initiatives from elsewhere. Whatever choices materialize at the local level may become contingent upon those policies and behaviors of individuals and groups placed elsewhere. Consequently, future engagements by govern-ments and others to craft community-based projects should begin with active involvements and negotiations with those most intimately involved with these resources. Whereas such engagements are essential, they rarely will be suffi cient to ensure the conservation of the desired resources.

Although the arguments for community-based or comanagement arrangements in resource management remain relevant and compelling at the international and donor levels, such importance seems less so at the national and lesser scales of organization. The inabilities to control and guide the behaviors of intervening bureaucratic and local institutions continues as a major obstacle to implementing conservation ideas by donors. Capacity and institutional building together with organizational reforms may be as determinative of success as attempts at local involvements in resource management processes. Crafting and maintaining harmony between all organizational scales of resource management are important tasks to sustain resource processes through time. The current notion of “conservation” remains so attached to its western cultural idioms and methods that for it to become effectively implanted elsewhere, it must be allowed to evolve thereby incorporating more situationally relevant concepts and actors.

Development and conservation may not be inimical to each other. But in their current form as community-based conservation, their reconcilia-tion has produced social confl ict and poor sustainable outcomes. There are many reasons for such outcomes, several of which are presented in this article. There exists a clear lack of fi t between the institutions of external conservation-minded groups (both domestic and international) and the local social institutions of the people living and using wildlife. There exist clear problems of using only a market-based model to capture the noneconomic values of wildlife. Further, there is the irony of how the strategic responses of local people to constraints on the viability of their livelihoods (a return to snaring) threatens the very goals of community-based conservation (Fer-guson 1994). A more sophisticated and negotiated relationship that both responds to and incorporates the changing needs of local and more distant partners will be required to ensure that the desired linkages between

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socioeconomic development, biodiversity conservation, and sustainable resource use materialize.

Acknowledgements

Many donors and organizations have supported this research and fi eld visits through the years. These include the Ford Foundation, the Social Science Research Council, the National Geographic Society, the Harry Frank Gug-genheim Foundation, NORAD, Fulbright Senior Research Fellowship, and the United States Agency for International Development. While in Zambia, I was always affi liated with the University of Zambia. I wish to acknowledge the long-term assistance of Martha Marks and of many Valley Bisa together with that of Clark Gibson in preparing this manuscript.

NOTES

1. The English loanword of poaching is generally used to cover a host of activities not sanc-

tioned by government. These activities cover incursions into protected areas, killing or

taking of wildlife without the requisite government licenses or permits, as well as any local

behaviors which can be interpreted as inimical to wildlife survival. Such cover terms serve

no explanatory function.

2. There are people living elsewhere in the Luangwa Valley that identify themselves as Bisa.

Currently, they live under other ethnic chieftaincies such as under Chief Mwanya (Chewa)

whose territory is east of the Luangwa River. The Bisa chief Kambwili, who formerly held

sovereignty over this territory was deposed by the colonial administration. Bisa also live

under other ethnic chiefs.

3. For residents, the landscape is much more diversely labeled and refl ective of a living land-

scape. The Munyamadzi river itself has various names as does the lands of various important

headmen. For example, the land around the current chief is known as “Chitaba.”

4. Lewis and Alpert (1997) provide the 1994 revenues generated through ADMADE’s two

hunting concessions as follows: for community development (US $64,233) and for wildlife

management (US $73,308). The amounts for later years have tended to increase, but have

been variable as Zambia’s hunting concession have become volatile political issues. During

the pending presidential election, the Zambian president abruptly closed all hunting con-

cessions for the year 2001.

5. Bushmeat refers to nondomesticated animal protein, particularly that derived from taking

wild mammals.

6. These data from 1988–89 are summarized and discussed in an unpublished manuscript,

Marks, SA (n.d.) Resources Within the Context of Livelihood. For a study with similar methodol-

ogy, see Skjonsberg 1981.

7. Many of the “traditional” protective types of prescriptions (magic or umuti) against danger-

ous wild mammals in the bush are now used to address the threat of detection and assaults

by wildlife scouts.

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8. Hasler (1996) describes similar ideas and concepts about society and its resource connec-

tions for the Zambezi Valley in Zimbabwe.

9. For a description and analysis of Bisa hunting strategies prior to the implementation of the

ADMADE resource regime, see Marks 1977.

10. Most of these mammals were consumed; the exceptions were the hyena, which was aban-

doned along with the snare, and the lion, whose skin was prepared and sold. In the table,

weights are given in terms of carcass yield (varies between 45 to 65 %) of live weight.

11. For comparison of takes of hunters during the same time frames, in 1988 fi ve gun hunters

took 8,329 kilograms of bushmeat and 6,731 kg in 1989.

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