Safari with a difference

In Caprivi, Biospheres Expeditions is attempting to pull off that complex piece of African algebra: bringing local people, tourists and wildlife scientists together - something like a unified theory of safari.

A few days before our night camp, I walk with three other volunteers through the forest with de Wet. The area we are in is a "conservancy", about 150 square kilometres of bush managed by the local population. They assess the stocks of wildlife and any problem animals - cattle killers, usually - then they sell hunting licences to wealthy foreigners. As an alternative to local people simply hunting for bush meat, the system ought to be a great improvement - wildlife stocks are monitored and any hunting gets a large financial return that is shared more equally. Last year, however, licences for five lions were issued and none were shot. The supposition is that lions here, like elsewhere in Africa, are in big trouble. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species recently changed the animal from one of "least concern" on its endangered list, to "vulnerable".

The presence of hunters in the parks means wildlife sightings are rare and fleeting. Towards the end of our walk, after three hours of nothing, we are watching some woodpeckers when a small deer, a duiker, jumps up and zig-zags away at great speed. Our sighting lasts about two seconds but is strangely satisfying. The walk seems worthwhile. We mark it down on our observation records.

"By walking these same routes with the same number of people for some years," de Wet explains, "we can build up a genuine picture of how much wildlife is out there - and that helps plan when there is money to restock."

What about the use of volunteers, I wonder. Can untrained outsiders really help? "You would be surprised how much difference extra pairs of eyes can make," he says. "Also, the presence of so many conservation-minded people is important. Local people notice that the outside world is interested in their environment and consider it important. And of course, without the money paid by the volunteers, the project would not be able to function."

The volunteers are an interesting mix drawn from some of the richer nations of the world: Britain, the US, Germany and Australia. They arrive, for the most part, thinking they offer very little to the project but soon discover otherwise. Pelly, the British banking expert, is a brilliant wildlife spotter. Murray, an Australian pilot, is a mechanical genius. Neil, a retired music teacher, is a superb ornithologist and Monica makes us all laugh. I get some of the best bits of firewood ever collected. Of 12 people, only one cannot find a reason to be here and leaves after a week with the comment: "I didn't come to Africa to collect firewood or trap animals." The scheme is certainly not for everyone and idealistic expectations can soon be demolished by the raw practicalities of bush life and wildlife management.

After our walk, de Wet hands us over to Julia, who needs helpers for her community survey. The plan is to drive to a village meeting, where we will go through a questionnaire on the subject of problems with predators. After a delay while a herd of elephants passed, we bounce into a small settlement: each family has a hut inside a fence of tall reed stalks; nearby is a rudimentary kraal made of thorny branches where the cattle are kept at night. These fragile defences are, Julia tells us, part of the problem. Hyenas, in particular, will sneak in, or scare the animals until they leap out. Either way, hyenas can grab a cow before the householder can respond.

Our small meeting gets under way under an acacia tree where a group of men have gathered.

"How would you solve the predator problem?" I ask one of them. He smiles. "Shoot the hyenas."

Often that is exactly what happens. The problem is that wild animals do not observe park boundaries: creatures that are protected in the park can wander outside it, kill cattle and then be killed. Many also undergo annual migrations: twice a year about 11,000 elephants pass through the Caprivi on a journey between the Angolan highlands and the Botswanan swamps.

We work through our questions, gathering local opinion on everything from hyenas to kraal construction. "What we want to do," explains Julia, "is find out what kind of improved kraal construction is possible here and if that will deter predators." Already a few locals have adopted new techniques and are benefiting but others see change as an unnecessary expense.

Joseph, sitting next to me, doesn't seem very keen to adapt. He received compensation for his two dead cows, which takes the sting out of any loss, but it also takes away any motivation to find a solution to the problem. He is at pains to point out that dead cattle are just one of many problems wildlife cause. "Elephants trample our crops, and lions can kill people," he says.

I'm intrigued. "Has anyone been killed here?"

"Two men - Alfred and Lester - were attacked but they survived," he says.

We decide to go and find the men: Alfred is an Anglican lay preacher who lives close by and we find him at home watching his wife mix up a plaster of cow dung and termite mound dust to repair their house walls. We go inside and sit on a yellow sofa underneath a rather Catholic collection of posters: venomous snakes of southern Africa, Jesus, the ministerial cabinet of Namibia.

Initially Alfred refuses to discuss his experience. "That day was like death to me. Why should I talk about it?" he says. "I got nothing from anyone for it - only pain. The Government wants us to hear only good things about conservation, not the bad."

After a little persuasion, he tells his tale. "It was January 21, 2001, when we were visited by four lions in the night. They took some cattle, so next morning I went with my gun and 26 other men to hunt the lions," he says.

As he talks, he gently massages his left knee where there are several long shiny scars.

"There was one male lion with two females and a cub. I shot the cub first but this made its mother so angry that she attacked, knocking my friend Lester down," he recalls. "All the other men ran away, so I was the only one who could save him but I couldn't shoot - they were rolling in the dirt. I jumped on the lioness's back and started punching her. We were fighting for a long time - maybe half an hour. My fingers were like this in her teeth." He demonstrates how his fingers had slotted between the lion's teeth. "Eventually I punched her very hard behind the ear and it broke a bone there. After a little time she died."

We all look at his hands. Is it really possible, I wonder? But it seems ungenerous to cast doubt.

"Can the people here live with lions?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No. Impossible."

Back at the night camp we check the traps but find nothing. On the way back to the fire, we spot bushbabies in the trees, their eyes gleaming scarlet in the spotlight. Further on there is a large-spotted genet, a small and beautiful cat-like creature, and a pair of roan antelopes, statuesque beneath a tree.

De Wet accepts there is a long way to go with local people and conservation.

"It's early days here," he says. "There is only one small tourist lodge in the area, so economic benefits are little. And they have no government services, no electricity or piped water. But if we can improve cattle kraals and deliver some sort of predator early warning by the radio collars, maybe there is hope."

When we reach the campfire, Bone surprises us. He has been 20 kilometres away on the busy gravel road and saved one predator from destruction by trucks. He hands over a plastic bag to de Wet with a gleam in his eye. Inside, coiled up, is a 1.84-metre rock python. After admiring the creature, we take him out into the forest on the Mudumu side. Then we let him wriggle away into safety. One predator who will survive, for now at least.

Biosphere Expeditions organises one- and two-week nature study expeditions in environments ranging from coral reefs to deserts. The two-week expedition in East Caprivi, Namibia, costs £1890 ($3384), excluding flights. See biosphere-expeditions.org.

- Guardian