By David Njagi
Nanyuki, Kenya: Margaret Wanjiru, an elder from Burguret village in central Kenya, wears many hats. She is a mother, a grandmother, a peer educator, and an environmental activist—all rolled into one.
Her collection of talents is proving to be a blessing for her troubled community on the slopes of Mt. Kenya, which is battling worsening climate change, human-wildlife conflict, and the breakdown of social systems.
A quick look at the farms in this part of Kenya tells the story. Acres of maize crops that, in previous decades, would be ripening at this time of year are already withering due to inadequate rainfall and the onset of the January dry season.
Occasionally, hungry and infuriated elephants—whose natural ecosystem has been encroached upon by industrial and population growth—raid farms in search of food, leaving farmers counting losses in the tens of thousands.
The youthful generation, which society entrusts with the continuity of cultural identity and the protection of community values, has fled to towns to hustle for a living, as corruption and poor leadership dismantle the once-stable economic systems of rural villages.
“We have everything we need here, but poverty levels are spreading. We need a reset,” said Wanjiru.
A reset, she says, would take the community back in time to its cultural values to address the root causes of these troubles: environmental degradation and the encroachment on the Mt. Kenya Forest Reserve. This reserve is one of the most richly endowed in Kenya and has been a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997.
UNESCO recognizes both the Mt. Kenya Forest Reserve and National Park for their biodiversity, unique ecosystems, critical water catchment capabilities, and as a natural site for diverse flora and fauna, including rare animal and plant species.
For instance, communities around the mountain have been beneficiaries of various ecosystem services for years, including medicinal plants, fruits and vegetables, wood fuel, and even a spiritual connection with nature, says Wanjiru.
“There are many benefits that we get from nature. We get medicine, food, and even a system that cleans the air we breathe,” said Wanjiru, noting that trees act as carbon sinks.
However, all these free gifts have declined, as threats to the forest—such as years of irresponsible logging, industrial agriculture, charcoal burning, and encroachment by exotic trees—have pushed the mountain’s natural capital to a tipping point.
That could change if conservation plans by groups like Wanjiru’s Atiririri Kirima initiative, which addresses environmental challenges with traditional ecological knowledge, take hold.
Her group of about 10 elders advocates for and trains communities in simple conservation skills, such as planting Indigenous trees instead of exotic ones, collecting firewood from the forest floor instead of cutting down trees, and passing on generational knowledge about why forests are considered sacred sites.
Working with the Ngaatho Community Foundation, the group also shares knowledge about the best times of year to plant trees, as climate change continues to cause seasonal variations in rainfall.
“It is our right to use our cultural diversity to save our threatened planet. We want to bring the Mt. Kenya Forest back from the brink of destruction by integrating traditional knowledge into modern conservation practices,” said Wanjiru.
Historically, women played a crucial role in conservation beyond serving as family custodians. They were the bridge through which cultural values were passed to children through storytelling by the fireplace and riddle marathons, she said.
In the broader context, they acted as community whistleblowers in cases where they discovered forest resources being misused while ensuring that sources of household needs like firewood were well-rationed and equitably distributed among families.
They also practiced sustainable agriculture using traditional knowledge, improving soil fertility and water retention through the simple application of organic matter to the soil.
This system of women’s roles in conservation is still deeply ingrained within communities and is part of the gendered approach adopted by the Atiririri Kirima group today, she said.
“You do not climb trees to collect firewood. Instead, you pick up the ready pieces that have fallen on the forest floor. This way, you ensure the tree will continue providing wood fuel for the rest of its life,” said Wanjiru.
Despite these efforts, Wanjiru says their project faces challenges, such as a lack of political support and a deep fear that the older generation has been forgotten by both the government and the modern generation.
Ngaatho Community Foundation is a partner of the African Biodiversity Network (ABN). ABN is a continental network working with various partners and communities to regenerate the lost biodiversity in Africa.
