Animals and Nature of Africa

I have been to Kenya 25 times, but the first time I visited was when I was exactly 40 years old. It happened because an editor I knew invited me, saying, "I'm going to Kenya, would you like to come?"

At that time, the father of Mr. Kanbe—who was a children's literature author—sent a message through another editor to the person in charge. He said he was incredibly worried because his son had gone to Africa and hadn't come back. He asked me to go see him and check on how he was doing.

Is that so? (laughs)

That was the first time I met you, in Nairobi. Since then, I've been hooked on Kenya. I could never forget the emotion of being surrounded by Africa's 360-degree horizon.

Back then, Nairobi National Park was quite wild; it was an era where giraffes would casually walk right by where the planes landed. It has modernized quite a bit now.

About 35 years have passed since then. Mr. Shinoda, how old were you when you first went to Africa?

It was in 2013, when I was 23.

So young. That's nice; I wish I could have gone when I was young.

The first country I visited was South Africa. I went to Kruger National Park for a safari, but we were in a shared van and could only see the animals from a distance.

A typical tourist safari, then.

Yes. I heard that you could see animals from much closer in Kenya, so I went there the following year.

Was it because you liked animals to begin with?

Since I was a child, I loved African animals from looking at Mitsuaki Iwago's photos and National Geographic. I used to watch them at the zoo all the time and always wanted to go see wild animals someday.

Once I went, I was hooked. My company made it easy to take two or three weeks off, so I started frequenting Africa and began taking photos.

Did you always like photography?

I did it as a hobby, but after I started taking serious animal photos in Africa, I began buying proper equipment. I spent three and a half years working and saving money, pouring every cent into gear and trips to Africa, before I quit my job and decided to make a living as a photographer.

Was there a specific photo that made you want to pursue the path of a photographer?

The first time I thought, "I really captured it," was when I was frantically photographing a single male lion from a pride called 'Black Rock' in the Masai Mara (National Reserve). He was standing on a rock in the morning glow.

He looks cool, doesn't he?

Luckily, that photo won an award in an overseas competition.

There was a one-eyed male lion there, wasn't there?

I wonder if he's still alive.

That lion, named Benna, died last year. Scarface, who was over in the Marsh area, also died last year.

The one in the Marsh died after becoming quite frail, didn't he?

Yes. He was already 13 or 14 years old.

That's quite an age. All these animals live self-sufficiently in that great wilderness. Since I got hooked on safaris, when I invite people to go with me, some ask, "Who feeds them?" (laughs). They think it's just a giant safari park.

Mr. Kanbe, you also went to Kenya in your 20s, didn't you?

Yes. When I was 24.

You were already a veterinarian in Japan by then, right?

That's right. But once I went, I decided I wanted to be a vet in Africa; I thought, "I want to give a lion an injection here."

That's amazing (laughs).

So you gave up on returning and just settled in Africa.

Yes. For the first five years or so, I was doing safaris across Africa. I did things like coordinating for Chosuke Ikariya's TV programs. Helping out once would provide a fee equivalent to a year's worth of food expenses.

I also traveled all over Africa by hitchhiking and went down the Nile and Congo Rivers.

Was that around the time you were living with Kiki the chimpanzee?

When I went to the jungle in Congo, someone gave me a chimpanzee. We lived together after that.

I brought her to Nairobi and left her at the Animal Orphanage, a place that treats and cares for wildlife. It's an orphanage that takes in baby animals wandering around after their parents were killed by poachers. I was allowed to work there like a wildlife vet, and that's when I decided I wanted to be a vet there. However, my Japanese veterinary license wasn't valid. So, I went to university.

How did you get into the university?

Getting into the University of Nairobi was difficult. At the time, the President's daughter, who was the Mayor of Nairobi, called the Vice-Chancellor for me. I was able to get to know the Mayor through a connection with Mr. Kantaro Ogura.

Mr. Ogura was the Nairobi branch manager for JAL at the time, and the person Toyoko Yamasaki wrote about as the protagonist of "The Unbroken Sun," right? He was a hunter, wasn't he?

Yes. I asked him how many elephants he had killed, but he would never tell me.

But he eventually transformed into a wildlife photographer.

Right. He showed me photos of black-and-white colobus monkeys flying through the air from branch to branch.

Anyway, he spoke to the President's daughter, and she spoke to the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Nairobi. The Vice-Chancellor practically jumped out of his seat and stood at attention, saying, "I'll convene the faculty council right now" (laughs).

And that's how you were able to become a vet.

But it took five years to graduate. I didn't understand the English, and I practically lost my hair from the stress (laughs).

How was it after you became a vet?

At that time, there were about 1,500 Japanese expats stationed in Kenya, and they kept guard dogs for security. When I opened my practice in Nairobi, I ended up doing almost nothing but seeing guard dogs at Japanese homes. It felt empty because I had wanted to treat wild animals.

I wanted to do something useful, and then I was told there was a vacant clinic in a place called Maji Moto village near the Masai Mara and that I should take it over. Since then, until today, I've been treating cattle and goats there.

Were you able to give a lion an injection?

I was. You inject them in the tail. A lion's tail is about as thick as a plastic bottle, with veins running down both sides. You use a thick 19-gauge needle to draw blood. For an intramuscular injection, you just slide it into the psoas major muscle in the hind leg.

The environment has changed a lot in the 50 years you've been in Kenya, hasn't it? CITES regulations have become stricter, for example.

Wild animals have gradually decreased. Especially due to poaching for ivory and rhino horn. Even the Grevy's zebra, with its beautiful stripes, has now become a rare species.

Zebras used to be everywhere, didn't they?

That's right. Indian souvenir shops used to have piles of stuffed zebras.

The President banned all animal hunting within Kenya in 1977. And the international trade in ivory was banned in 1989. Until then, ivory was sold aggressively, and Japan was a major destination for smuggled goods.

Even after countries ratified CITES, poaching increased, and the elephant population across Africa dropped to about one-tenth. So now, there is a sense of crisis regarding endangered animals in both Kenya and Japan.

It's become an issue now that China is buying large quantities of ivory.

Yes. Also, as farms and towns increase, wildlife habitats decrease, and both carnivores and herbivores are declining. Wildlife decreases by as much as the human population increases.

Sometimes a single species increases disproportionately, too.

When zebras increase, gazelles might decrease. In Lake Nakuru National Park, which is entirely fenced in, at first, antelope-like creatures called waterbucks increased, then they were replaced by smaller antelopes, and as those decreased, now large buffalo are increasing.

I don't know exactly how the ecosystem inside the enclosure is changing, but the wild situation shifts due to things like an increase in parasites or viral infections.

It's said that flamingos have also decreased. Did they migrate?

There used to be a million flamingos, but now there are probably only two or three thousand. I believe the rising lake water became acidified, the algae they fed on decreased, and they could no longer live there.

The surrounding acacia forests have all turned into pitch-black dead trees.

They've become like skeletons, and since the algae that flamingos eat has disappeared, I think they've flown off somewhere else.

So currently, various animal reserves have been established within Kenya. One reserve is about the size of a Japanese prefecture, and the larger ones are as big as Shikoku. In the past, you could enter freely off-road, but by the time you went, Mr. Shinoda, the rules had become quite strict, hadn't they?

That's true. Compared to South Africa, Kenya still feels a bit more relaxed, but off-road driving is strictly regulated. Also, with local conservation groups like the Cheetah Project and the WWF (World Wide Fund for Nature) involved, I can feel a movement to properly protect rare animals like rhinoceroses.

Rules have become stricter, such as having to maintain a certain distance from the animals.

There's also a movement to restrict balloons because they frighten the animals.

They do make a tremendous noise.

Exactly. Mr. Shinoda, did you ride in a balloon?

I haven't ridden one yet.

When you look at them from below, there's nothing more annoying because they're so loud. However, once you get on one, it's surprising. First of all, you can clearly see the animal trails. It looks like a map of Paris. High termite mounds serve as landmarks, with paths radiating out from them, and seeing jackals or gazelles walking along them is truly fascinating.

You can see bird nests in the treetops from directly above. It's a forbidden view (laughs). It feels great to drift along with the air through the morning mist.

In the Maasai Mara, from around 5:00 in the morning, dozens of balloons rise up from lodges all over the place.

Landing is interesting when there's wind because it's a hard landing. The basket tips over and gets dragged, there are lions around, and you never know where you'll end up.

In the savanna, I think the scenery and the faces of the animals change depending on the season and the time of day. Mr. Shinoda, what kind of challenges or joys do you find in your photography?

One of the reasons I started photography was that I had long felt a sense of not being able to truly feel that I was alive. In my daily routine, I felt there were very few moments where I could sense life.

When you're in an environment like Japan, there really aren't any, are there?

When I first went to Kenya, I became friends with a boy about my age in a Maasai village. He told me he would roast a goat to welcome me. I assumed he would roast pre-cut meat, but he skewered a whole goat on a branch and roasted it entire.

That's quite a welcome. It's a feast.

People from all around gathered together. That sort of thing made me feel that "life is close." It's the same when watching wild animals. I find it endlessly fascinating to feel life so closely.

So you want to take photos that capture life and convey that to others.

It's often said now that young people in Japan aren't interested in going abroad. I wonder why that is.

I was the same, but it might be because we've watched nature documentaries on TV since we were children and feel like we already know it, or because information is so accessible.

But when I went there with the feeling that I already knew it from seeing animals in zoos, it felt like I'd been punched—it was completely different. Even the sparkle in the animals' eyes is totally different.

Like seeing a lion tear out the internal organs of its prey right in front of you.

When I first went to Kenya intending to make a living through photography, a young cheetah hunted and caught a gazelle. Because it was young, it couldn't kill it cleanly and started eating it from the hindquarters while it was still alive.

The gazelle kept crying out as the cheetah ate its organs, and it slowly died. Seeing the moment life vanished right before my eyes was very shocking to me...

Because you're seeing it directly and up close. I once saw a lion catch and eat a female warthog, and a fetus came out of her belly. Then the lion ate it with such relish...

It's soft and delicious, isn't it?

Humans can empathize with the lion or with the prey; we can empathize with both. So we might feel sorry for the prey, or feel sorry for the lion if it fails a hunt. But that's how they've lived for hundreds of years, through self-sufficiency.

For example, zebra herds are always full of energy. That's because they are constantly turning over generations. If they get old, sick, or injured, they are all eaten by lions. In a sense, by entrusting all their "elderly problems" to the lions, the zebra herd remains healthy. People call it the law of the jungle, but it also makes you feel the resilience of herbivores.

Mr. Kanbe, you've had many extraordinary experiences. Like anesthetizing elephants and rhinos to move them from one reserve to another. Does moving dozens of elephants as a whole herd actually work out well?

Those are relocation operations by the KWS (Kenya Wildlife Service) to prevent poaching. It's tough. Some die along the way, and there's the question of whether they can adapt properly to the land after being released. Since 200 kilometers is a distance they can walk, some try to return, so they might die in traffic accidents or get shot along the way.

Is it actually possible for humans to control nature through conservation and relocation?

I suppose we have no choice but to believe it's possible. People from the West donate money for fuel and anesthesia. In return, Kenyans do various things for animal conservation.

There are issues with the conservation system within Kenya. Over 30 years ago, the last six white rhinos in Meru were being protected by rangers. However, a superior was bribed by an Arab king, and while the rangers were sent away on assignment, all six were killed.

Is that kind of domestic corruption unavoidable when there is such inequality? The same goes for poaching. What should be done about poaching for money, like ivory, versus traps for bushmeat (meat from wild animals)? As awareness of coexistence with wildlife grows, will inequality disappear and will people start following the rules? There's also the aspect that having animals brings in foreign currency.

It seems those things aren't easily understood. But now, there are many Kenyans who speak up for animal conservation, saying poachers are wrong. Basically, there are many people who like animals, and I think we're gradually moving toward protecting them.

In 2017, the late Dr. Richard Leakey (who passed away this January), an anthropologist and former head of the KWS, built a railway right through the middle of Nairobi National Park with Chinese aid. Everyone was disappointed that even Dr. Leakey, the man who led the call to protect wildlife, lost out to China's Belt and Road Initiative.

There was an opposition movement before it was built, but once it was finished, it gained a reputation for being convenient for going to Mombasa. It's difficult to balance the economy of a nation with fostering an awareness of wanting to protect and coexist with animals.

I used to appear on a radio program called "Children's Telephone Consultation Room," and the question that troubled me most from a child was: "You say we should protect tigers and elephants, but is there anyone who would actually be in trouble if they disappeared?" After all, locally they can be pests, and in India, tigers that attack fields are dangerous. How do you think I should have answered?

I suppose it would be something about the balance of the ecosystem.

One can explain the ecosystem, the forests, and the relationship between plants, herbivores, and carnivores. But that doesn't easily connect to "why we must protect them."

In other words, even if we say it's good to coexist with wildlife as if it's obvious, for example, in Japan, if Japanese macaques appear and ravage fields, or if bears appear and people get injured, they are culled immediately. On the other hand, it could lead to the argument of whether we should still say "protect the leopard" even if a local person in Africa is bitten by one.

Humans have lived alongside wild animals, and utilizing them was part of human culture. For example, carvings intricately made from ivory are hard yet difficult to crack. In that sense, it's an amazing material that has produced great art. This can be seen as a matter of quantity; it could actually be supplied by ivory from elephants that died naturally. But the problem is that there are people who kill them because they want what's right in front of them.

That's why all ivory trade is banned. Consequently, if someone in Japan dies now and there's an old ivory product among their belongings, it can't be sold and is just thrown away, so it doesn't remain. Without the part about "for what purpose and how," we can't answer the question of who suffers if tigers disappear.

Mr. Kanbe, I think your 50 years of experience is something Japanese people haven't experienced; what are your thoughts on this?

The Maasai coexist quite well. The Maasai say that even if there's a lion nearby, it's fine as long as they aren't eaten. That kind of idea of coexistence existed throughout Kenya, or throughout Africa. It would be good if we could return to such a society.

But there are places where vast plantations are divided by barbed wire and landlords still exist, aren't there? So that's ultimately a problem of economic or social structure.

Mr. Shinoda, have you ever stayed in a Maasai settlement?

I've stayed at a Maasai friend's house, but it was made of stone. Originally, the Maasai were nomadic, so there weren't many stone houses, but they seem to be increasing lately.

That's because the government is promoting settlement policies. Otherwise, it's hard to collect taxes.

That's true. I've only been visiting for about eight years, but I think the number of houses with fences has increased significantly in the last few years.

As Dr. Kanbe mentioned earlier, I feel that among the younger generation of Maasai, there are more people who want to protect animals with affection, also as a tourism resource. For my Maasai friend's grandfather's generation, stories of how many lions they killed with a spear were tales of bravery.

That's because it was a necessary ritual to become a Maasai warrior.

As you said, conservancies (management agencies) where the local people manage the areas themselves are increasing in the Maasai Mara. There are several near my place too.

Also, when people from elsewhere like us are happily involved in animal conservation, it seems to motivate them as well. There are often programs where huts are built and students go to experience being like a ranger. Even Japanese university students joyfully do this during their summer vacations.

It would be great if the value of coexisting and cherishing such things as a global standard spreads among young people.

In the past, defeating a Simba (lion) was done as a rite of passage for a warrior, wasn't it?

They still do it.

How is the compromise between such traditional culture and the current situation?

The Maasai themselves might be confused. But to begin with, the Maasai don't have the feeling that they should kill animals just because they are pests.

Because defeating a lion is proof of becoming an adult.

Nowadays, the number of lions and the Maasai population don't balance out. Since 9 is a lucky number for the Maasai, if 9 people kill one lion, they all consider it as having killed a lion. Even if it's 19 or 29 people, if they kill one, they say "I killed a lion" and pass the ritual that way.

In areas close to Nairobi, there are regions where lions have been hunted out and are gone to begin with. In those cases, they might strike a lion skin with a Maasai spear and call it a success.

As a result, the Maasai warriors themselves are losing their pride in protecting their families from lions. But I suppose that's inevitable as modernization progresses.

Recently, even the Maasai have cell phones, but I was surprised to hear that everyone is wearing masks now. Even in such a wide-open place.

Another thing is that the transition of seasons has become strange due to recent environmental changes; for example, the migration routes of wildebeests have been changing, haven't they?

I've never been able to see the wildebeest migration properly; even when I go being told it's the right time, I feel the discrepancy is getting larger every year.

In 2019, it rained so much that the river flooded, and even at the camp where I was staying, about two tents were washed away. I don't know if it's due to climate change, but I do hear the local people saying, "Nothing like this has ever happened before."

Before 그 that, there was a terrible drought. Then, that year, the river flooded during the wildebeest migration. There were so many wildebeest carcasses, and it smelled for a long time.

It's incredible, the way the bodies bloat with gas. Crocodiles love wildebeests, don't they? When Mr. Kanbe saw wildebeests crossing for the first time and saw a crocodile tearing one apart, he said, "What a horrible creature, I'm going to get revenge on that crocodile."

It doesn't help with wildlife conservation, but I did go for revenge. By throwing stones. I thought it might leap up and attack me, but it just ran away.

But if a crocodile doesn't eat, it will die, right? Is it okay to take sides like that?

It can't be helped. It's because I feel an attachment.

It's life and death right in front of your eyes. For example, when a small animal like a Thomson's gazelle gives birth to a baby, it ultimately ends up giving birth to food for carnivores like lions. Moreover, the mother herself is often attacked immediately after giving birth.

Far off on the horizon, a hippo is sleeping during the day. When you go closer to see why it's there at such an hour, you see vultures sticking their heads inside the body and eating the internal organs. That really stinks.

It really is a terrible smell.

But that is exactly the moving nature of life, or rather, it's just the normal scenery there.

I used to work for a consulting firm, and when considering new businesses, keywords like "environmentally friendly" or "clean" tended to come up, but I think the best thing is for people to go to Africa and see for themselves. In Japan, even animal programs tend to be superficial, just saying "how cute."

I really want people to go there to learn about the various aspects. I personally feel very strongly that you can't easily talk about things like animal protection. I believe that knowing these things is the first step.

Mr. Shinoda, I'm sure you've taken many photos of lions devouring their prey, but you don't really include them in your photo books, do you? Is the focus on cute scenes, like lion parents and cubs, the editor's intention? Or is it your own?

It's both. I want to show elementary and junior high school students that lions are not just cute, nor are they just scary, but that they have many different sides. When watching a lion family, there are many times I think they are truly the same as humans. However, there is also the reality that bloody scenes are difficult to place in bookstores.

Seeing it in print is completely different from seeing it in person. Even with the same scene, a photograph can feel scarier or more disgusting. When you see it in front of you, it's just a natural occurrence.

Mr. Kanbe, you've encountered quite a few dangerous situations in Africa. Even now, dangerous places in Africa are still dangerous, aren't they?

In countries with political instability, people are dying.

Currently, Kenya is said to be relatively stable politically, but even so, Mr. Kanbe, you are always prepared to escape at a moment's notice, aren't you?

If I'm chased, I just cross the border. Then, I have to go to that country's consul to get help.

Mr. Shinoda, have you ever had a scary experience?

In Africa, I try to stay away from cities as much as possible. When I first went, there was a time I absolutely had to walk alone at night in downtown Nairobi, and that was truly terrifying.

I hurried back to the hotel as if I were escaping. During my four-day stay, I heard warning shots three times. However, it's safe if you go to the countryside, so it's completely different depending on the location.

It really is different. Once, when Mr. Kanbe guided me through a slum, he told me not to wear anything that could be stripped off—no watches or jewelry, nothing that could be torn away—and to go prepared so that it wouldn't matter where I was touched.

Conversely, the person who gets things taken is also at fault. It's wrong to bring things that those who have nothing would want. He said that's the minimum rule and etiquette.

Yes, it's taken for granted that you take from the rich. All foreigners are rich.

If you don't know that, it's shocking, but the Japanese sensibility is a bit off. That rule applies not just to Nairobi, but to many places around the world, doesn't it?

I used to travel with a backpack while reading "Chikyu no Arukikata" (Globe-Trotter Travel Guidebook), but the information listed there about which places are dangerous—sometimes when you actually go there, those places aren't dangerous, but somewhere else is.

You won't understand until you can grasp it with your own skin's intuition.

Mr. Shinoda, do you spend most of your time in the Maasai Mara when you are in Kenya?

Yes. I've been in the Maasai Mara for a long time. The Black Rock lion pride I've been following has had a change in leadership, and the pride is starting to split. I also have information that a male has become independent and is likely to get into a fight with other males.

To protect the pride, male lions are sometimes cast out. I think that was probably the best way to protect the pride throughout their long history. Females often stay near the pride, but they also split off when their numbers increase.

Prides are fluid, and males may belong to several prides at once. I find it interesting that there are no clear rules like there are for humans.

It also changes if the amount of prey is high or if the number of migrating animals decreases. If there is no food, the young are the first to die. If they weaken even a little, there are plenty of hyenas and others waiting around them.

Even for a lion, if the mother goes far away to hunt, the cubs might be eaten in the meantime. It's a harsh reality.

Lion cubs and cheetah cubs are also hunted quite often. Sometimes lions attack cheetah cubs. It feels less like they are attacking to eat and more like they are attacking because they are simply in the way.

It's not just the law of the jungle; it's a feeling of "all meat, all eaten" where everyone gets eaten if they let their guard down, a phrase that was trending online a while ago. I think that is the natural state, like an order without order.

So-called established theories are circulated too much. Like "lion prides are always like this." Instead, the reality on the ground is truly flexible and changes freely.

The relationship between herbivores and plants also involves many things, like the rainy and dry seasons, being too dry or having too much rain. Only humans try to apply pressure on nature to make it always the same. We pave roads or spray water with sprinklers.

It's not just lions eating zebras; zebras and giraffes might eat birds, and even lions eat the undigested plants inside a zebra's stomach. There are truly all kinds of relationships.

African people also want to increase their population and prosper. They also long for a modern lifestyle.

That's true all over the world. Right now, protecting animals as a tourism resource is one way to become wealthy. Conversely, if tourists stop coming, wildlife will be discarded. I think that dilemma exists.

In any case, because Africa faces various challenges, I think it provides an opportunity to think about many things. In that sense, too, I want people to see Africa. Thinking animals are cute is a starting point for life, similar to thinking a baby is cute, but from there it expands, and you can see various relationships regarding coexistence.