The Enemy Inside: Rhino's Protectors Sometimes Aid Poachers
It says a lot about the state of the war against poachers in Africa that the Lewa Conservancy, a private sanctuary in Kenya with 12 percent of the country's rhinos, recently appointed a CEO who has never studied zoology or biology. Instead, Mike Watson is an ex-captain in the British army.
His training has already come in handy. Take, for instance, a visit to a crime scene earlier this year: a rhino carcass splayed out in the mud.
Watson holds a black-and-white photo, a kind of rhino mug shot. Kenya has only about 1,000 rhinos, and each one is branded with a distinct pattern of ear notches and registered in a countrywide database. Watson is able to use the photo to identify the dead creature. His name is Arthur.
According to his papers, Arthur was a 4-year-old black rhino. Flies now buzz around the bloody socket where his tiny horn once grew. Arthur's fatal mistake was coming back to visit his mother. The extra noise of two rhinos chewing very likely tipped off the prowling gunmen, who fired 23 rounds from an AK-47 from a ditch about 10 yards away.
There's a village nearby, just beyond the sanctuary's electrified fence.
Residents say they didn't hear anything, nor did the guards at their observation post a half-mile away. Watson says that suggests the killers used a gun with a silencer.
They were probably using night vision goggles, too, since the shooting happened under a new moon in the pitch black. Arthur was the sixth rhino killed in four weeks.
"If we don't do something, we're going to lose all our rhino," Watson says. "Kenya's going to lose all its rhino."
A Military Approach
For the past 25 years, the strategy for protecting rhinos has essentially been "contain and defend." Rhinos do like to wander, but unlike elephants, they don't actually migrate.
Game rangers report for duty at a community conservancy in northern Kenya. The flourishing safari economy in Kenya generates more than $1 billion a year and nearly 500,000 jobs.
An electric fence surrounds Lewa's 62,000 acres of savannah, which is defended by a $1 million-a-year security outfit that includes armed rangers, night trackers, dog handlers and a helicopter. (Not to be outdone, its sister conservancy, Ol Pejeta, will soon get its own drone.)
But this very security apparatus has, in some instances, been used to kill rhinos instead of protect them. Lewa's armed rangers have been paid off by poaching cartels, and its sophisticated location tracking has been used by staff members coordinating with poachers.
Patrick Omondi is head of species for the Kenya Wildlife Service, the government branch responsible for protecting wildlife. For several minutes, he ticks off all the new equipment he has requested, including thermal vision goggles and tracking chips embedded in every horn.
But even Omodi doubts that a military approach on its own will stop the slide.
"Above all is the issue of demand reduction; we need to look at [that]. Because even if we improve the fighting force, they will still outdo us because the price for rhino horn has risen so significantly," Omondi says.
An African Prize
Rhino horn is literally worth its weight in gold in Vietnam, where the demand for powdered horn has grown dramatically — both as a status symbol and as a traditional medicine. In fact, in recent years, it has traded at a price as much as that of gold, $1,400 an ounce.
And unlike so many other wildlife products stolen from Africa and smuggled to Asia, a good chunk of the money spent on rhino horn actually returns to the poacher. That's not the case with ivory. While ivory can garner many thousands of dollars in China, an elephant poacher in Kenya might only be paid $600 per tusk.
The same poacher could clear $40,000 or more for a rhino horn.
And that's just for the poacher. Forget the syndicates up the chain in Asia that might unload it for five times that. The street value of just the 125 rhinos at Lewa is $10 million.
This difference in the profit margin is one reason the rhino poacher and the elephant poacher — though often conflated in news reports — are totally different species of predator.
"With a rhino poacher, the risks are massive compared to an elephant poacher," says Ian Craig, founder of Northern Rangelands Trust. He is one of the few conservationists in Kenya who have talked with both types of criminal.
Craig says rhino poachers have vastly more money at their disposal. Their task is also exponentially more difficult, with all the rhinos in the country living in sanctuaries guarded by armed rangers who will shoot to kill if fired upon.
"The time frame for killing a rhino, taking the horn and getting away with it is so narrow," Craig explains — about a half-hour, he says, compared with a couple of days for an elephant poacher to shoot his prey and steal the tusk. So as a practical matter, considering the size of Lewa and how rhinos are spread out, the poacher would have great difficulty succeeding without inside information. Watson, Lewa's CEO, says he is now certain that some of his own employees assisted in the killing of Arthur and other rhinos.
"Operational secrecy is compromised," Watson says. "It's not rampant and endemic, but we've got people on the inside who are feeding information, which makes it doubly difficult to do the job."
And when he realized this, he says, it took him right back to a lesson he learned in the British army: All the helicopters and all the weaponry in the world cannot win a war without on-the-ground intelligence.
Fighting Back
That's when Lewa developed its own spy network: an affiliation of informers in the surrounding towns and even inside Lewa itself. Watson also fired the suspected turncoats. That stopped the killings, for a spell.
Mzee Kinyanjui is one of the first and longest-serving rangers to work for Lewa Conservancy. Now retired, he is often called upon for advice and guidance by the security department for his forensic skills.
John Palmeri, chief of security, says now they have a new enemy: the cellphone. If one of their rangers simply calls a poacher to alert them — say, there's an unguarded rhino in the northeast corner — that phone call will be richly rewarded, reportedly to the tune of $3,500.
That's a lot of money for a rural Kenyan, especially for committing a crime for which no Kenyan has ever served prison time. They're all free on bail.
"This money is tempting people in the system," Palmeri says.
Does it ever tempt him?
"No. ... I came here when [there were 20 or fewer rhinos]. At the moment we have 125 animals here," Palmeri says. "And especially, if you have been here, growing with these animals, and knowing that [the animals] have reached this number because of me."
Not every ranger has such a personal link. Some are just here for the job. So the poaching crisis has left every conservancy in Africa with a question that any army fighting a guerrilla war hates to confront. It's not how to defend; it's whom can you trust.
Just recently the last rhino in Mozambique may have been killed, and if so, it was apparently with the direct assistance of the game rangers protecting it. The warden of Limpopo National Park recently told the Associated Press that he'd caught members of his staff "red-handed while directing poachers to a rhino area."
And considering how much money is dangling there on the black market, it's remarkable that more rangers haven't been turned. So while it's true that rhinos are losing the war against poachers, it's also true that they have a surprising number of loyal friends.
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Transcript
MELISSA BLOCK, HOST:
This is ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, from NPR News. I'm Melissa Block.
AUDIE CORNISH, HOST:
And I'm Audie Cornish. A war is under way in Africa against rhinoceros poachers. And at this point, the rhino is losing. Yesterday, we investigated the growing demand for rhinoceros horn as a traditional medicine, in Vietnam. There, smuggled horn trades at a price per ounce that rivals gold and cocaine.
Today, NPR's Gregory Warner begins the second part of our series on rhino poaching with a question: How can the people tasked with protecting the rhino fight back against an industry this lucrative?
(SOUNDBITE OF WALKING, BACKGROUND CHATTER)
GREGORY WARNER, BYLINE: It says a lot about where we're at with poaching today that the Lewa Conservancy, a private sanctuary in Kenya with 12 percent of the country's rhino, recently named a CEO who has never studied zoology or biology but is an ex-captain in the British army.
In fact, I first met Mike Watson at a crime scene. He was holding a piece of paper with a black-and-white silhouette, like a rhino mug shot. He IDs the carcass splayed out in the mud.
MIKE WATSON: We can see which animal it is. You can see the ear notches. We ear notch them so you can tell the difference between the animals.
WARNER: His name was Arthur?
WATSON: His name was Arthur, yeah.
WARNER: Arthur, according to his papers, was a 4-year-old, black rhino. Flies now buzz around the bloody socket where his tiny horn once grew. Arthur's fatal mistake was coming back to visit his mother. The extra loudness of two rhinos chewing likely tipped off the prowling gunmen, who fired 23 rounds.
WATSON: Twenty-three rounds of...
WARNER: AK-47?
WATSON: Yeah, AK.
WARNER: Fired from where?
WATSON: From here; you can see just down here, in this ditch. And the animal's 10 yards away. But you can see the houses here.
WARNER: He points to a village just beyond the electrified fence.
WATSON: And people are saying they heard nothing.
WARNER: Even the guards at their observation post a half mile away, say they heard nothing.
WATSON: So it's quite likely they were using a suppressed weapon.
WARNER: A silencer on the gun and probably night-vision goggles as well since the shooting happened under a new moon, in the pitch dark. It's the sixth rhino dead in four weeks.
WATSON: If we don't do something, we're going to lose all our rhino. Kenya is going to lose all its rhino.
WARNER: For the past 25 years, the strategy for protecting rhino has basically been contain and defend. Rhino do like to wander. But unlike elephants, they don't actually migrate. Lewa Conservancy is 62,000 acres of savannah ringed by an electric fence, and defended by a million-dollar-a-year security outfit that includes armed rangers, night trackers, dog handlers, and a helicopter. Not to be outdone, its sister conservancy, Ol Pejeta, is soon to get its own drone.
But even the fighters on the front lines are openly doubting that a military approach, on its own will, stop the slide to extinction. Patrick Omondi is with the Kenya Wildlife Service. For several minutes in his office, he ticks off all the new equipment he's requested including thermal-vision goggles, and tracking chips embedded in every horn.
PATRICK OMONDI: But above all is the issue of demand reduction, we need to look at, because even if we improve the fighting force, they will still outdo us because the price for rhino horn is - risen so significantly.
WARNER: The street value of just the 125 rhino on Lewa, is $10 million. Mike Watson says he feels like he's running an ATM for poachers - or as the British call it, a cash point.
WATSON: It's pretty much a 62,000-acre cash point that we've got here. People can come in and put their card in, and take out some money, 40- to $50,000.
WARNER: Forty to $50,000 is just for the poacher. Forget the syndicates up the chain in Asia, who might unload it for five times that; 50,000 is just for the guy with the gun. Compare that to what a poacher might get for an elephant tusk - maybe 600 bucks. Which is one reason that the rhino poacher and the elephant poacher - although in news reports we often hear them conflated - are totally different species of predator.
IAN CRAIG: With a rhino poacher, the risks are massive compared to an elephant poacher.
WARNER: Conservationist Ian Craig says rhino poachers have vastly more money at their disposal. But their task is also exponentially more difficult, with all the rhino in the country living in sanctuaries guarded by armed rangers, who will shoot to kill if you fire at them.
CRAIG: The time frame of killing a rhino - taking the horn, getting away with it - is so narrow.
WARNER: About a half an hour, he says, compared to a couple of days for an elephant poacher to shoot his prey and steal the tusk. So as a practical matter, considering the size of Lewa and how rhinos are spread out, the poacher almost cannot succeed without inside information. Mike Watson says he is now certain that the killing of Arthur - and other rhino - was assisted by some of his own employees.
WATSON: Operational security, operational secrecy is compromised. It's not rampant and endemic, but we've got people on the inside who are feeding information, which makes it doubly difficult to do the job.
WARNER: And when he realized this, he says, it took him right back to a lesson he learned in the army, fighting republicans in Northern Ireland. All the helicopters and all the weaponry in the world cannot win the war without on-the-ground intelligence.
WATSON: Intelligence - yes, intelligence is key.
WARNER: And that is when Lewa got itself a spy network, an affiliation of informers in the surrounding towns and even inside Lewa itself. Watson also fired the suspected turncoats. That stopped the killings for a spell.
John Palmeri, chief of security, says they now have a new enemy: the cellphone. If one of their rangers simply calls a poacher to alert them, say, there's an unguarded rhino in the northeast corner, that phone call will be richly rewarded.
JOHN PALMERI: If somebody has just spoke through the phone and direct somebody, we heard that you can get like 300,000 Kenya shillings.
WARNER: That's $3,500.
PALMERI: It's a lot. It's a lot. It's a lot.
WARNER: A lot of money for a crime for which no Kenyan has ever served prison time. They're all free on bail.
PALMERI: It's something, this money is tempting people on the system.
WARNER: Does it ever tempt you?
PALMERI: No, because I came here when rhinos were 20, or less than 20. And the moment - we have 125 animals here. And especially if you have been here, growing with these animals, and knowing that this number - have reached this number because of me.
WARNER: Not every ranger has such a personal link. Some are just here for the job. And so the poaching crisis has left every conservancy in Africa with a question that any army fighting a guerrilla war hates to confront. It's not how to defend. It's who can you trust.
Just recently, the last rhino in Mozambique may have been killed. And if so, it was with the direct assistance of the game rangers hired to protect them, according to the park warden. And considering how much money there is dangling there on the black market, it's remarkable that more rangers in Kenya have not been turned. So it's true that rhino are losing the war against poachers. It's also true that they have a surprising number of loyal friends.
Gregory Warner, NPR News, Nairobi.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
BLOCK: This is NPR. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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