A bloom of forest covers the small island of Chumbe off Zanzibar. It roots in thin soil deposited over millennia on the exposed coral reef. Safe from hunters, the Aders Duiker antelope has been rescued from extinction. Birds swoop through the shifting hues of sunset, and at night the largest land-living arthropod – the coconut crab – emerges, among scurries of smaller hermit crabs. In the silkily-warm water, brilliantly-coloured nudibranchs inhabit crevices in a rich intertidal zone. Deeper, 300 varieties of fish weave through 200 kinds of living coral.
Paradises such as this typically disappear when the alarmingly successful modern human arrives. As I waded out to board the ferry for Chumbe, I mulled uncomfortable questions. Is there such a thing as “ecotourism”? Or, as some critics declaim, is the term impossibly contradictory, as is “sustainable development”? It is acceptable for those of us who travel to stamp our massive carbon footprints all over the planet, as long as someone else plants a few trees?
The Chumbe Island Coral Park has won international awards, so I was keen to discover how they approach the problem. Annexed to this quest was my desire to see what Zanzibar looked like before humans arrived.
The park opened for ecotourism 20 years ago, long after most forests and coral reefs of the main Zanzibari islands were exploited or trashed. Chumbe escaped this fate – the island’s only inhabitant was a lighthouse keeper as it was out of bounds due to security and trade route concerns. In the early 1990s, Sibylle Riedmiller, a sociologist from Germany, visited the island and became determined to conserve the biome. Her idea was to build a tourist destination – using natural materials and principles to prevent damage to the ecosystem – thereby raising finances to fund research, maintain the park, and to educate locals and travellers as to why this is important.
Riedmiller struggled to get the necessary approval. She commented that if she had applied to cut down the indigenous forest and erect a Sheraton hotel, she would have received more support. Revenue from tourism was calculated in numbers. Also, the local word for coral is “stone”, as there was no understanding of the living microcosm that constitutes what has been referred to as “the rainforest of the oceans”. Education started with the government; now they are behind the project, and send out police assistance if rangers have problems with poachers.
Chumbe, impressively, has achieved its objectives. The design of the education centre and the seven bungalows incorporates every principle of sustainability. There is no groundwater, so rain from the monsoon seasons is funnelled off the palm leaf roofs and stored in tanks beneath each bungalow. Solar and wind power provide light and heat, and the design of the bungalows funnels the sea breeze, rendering fans and air-conditioning unnecessary. The composting loos are water-free, prevent contamination of the reef, and provide good fertiliser.
Every year 350 schoolchildren and 50 teachers visit the island. Rangers take them on the same tour of the forest and snorkelling experience as tourists. Local fishermen are educated as to why practices like dynamiting the reef, indiscriminate anchoring and drag-net fishing destroy not only the reef, but the future of fishing. Fishermen are encouraged to propel their small dugouts using paddles rather than poles pushed into the reefs.
Chumbe is not the most expensive of the available resorts in Zanzibar, but it is not budget. However, it is worth saving towards. Besides being downtime in an exquisite setting, Chumbe Island offers an opportunity for the more affluent of us to give something substantial back. For bookings, e-mail book@chumbeisland.com
l Dawn Garisch is a writer and poet, and the 2011 recipient of the EU award for poetry - Sunday Independent
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