The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times(27)

Laughing, Jane told me how, at the start of this program, which was specifically designed to enable girls to stay in school during and after puberty, she had learned of a major problem. The girls were not going to school during their periods because the school latrines were stinky holes in the ground with no privacy whatsoever. Nor did they have any sanitary towels.

“So we planned to introduce ‘ventilator improved pit latrines.’ In America I suppose you would say VIP bathrooms. In the UK we’d say VIP loos!” She laughed again. “So that year I was asking for the money to build one of these as my birthday present. I raised enough for five! When they were built, I went to one of the schools for an official opening. It was a splendid event—parents in their smartest clothes, a few government officials, and a lot of excited children.

“The building had a cement floor, five little cubicles with doors that latched for the girls and, separated from these by a wall, three for boys. They had not yet been used. With great ceremony I cut the ribbon—then was escorted into the girls’ area by the headmistress and a photographer. I went into a cubical and, to do the thing properly, sat on the seat. But I didn’t pull my trousers down,” she ended with a mischievous grin.

“So you see,” she added, “these girls are now empowered to elevate their lives out of poverty and now understand that without a thriving ecosystem their families cannot thrive.

“Almost all of these villages have a forest reserve that needs protecting—but by 1990 most of them had been severely degraded—for firewood, for charcoal, and clear-cutting for growing crops. As most of Tanzania’s remaining chimpanzees live in these reserves, the situation was not very promising. But now everything has changed. Our Tacare program is now in one hundred and four villages throughout the range of Tanzania’s two thousand or so wild chimpanzees.

“Last year I went to one of these villages and met Hassan, one of their two forest monitors who had learned how to use a smart phone. He was eager to take us into ‘his’ forest and show us how he used the phone to record where he had found an illegally cut tree and an animal trap. He pointed out where new trees were now growing. He told us that he was seeing more and more animals—three days before he had seen a pangolin on his way home in the evening. And most exciting of all, he had seen traces of chimpanzees—three sleeping nests and some feces.”


Hassan is one of the forest monitors, trained in a Tacare workshop to use a smartphone to record animal traps or, in this case, an illegally cut tree. He also records sightings of chimpanzees, pangolins, and other wild animals. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/SHAWN SWEENEY)



“I’m so sorry that I was not able to join you in Gombe,” I said, thinking of my abrupt return to America to be with my dad at the hospital and while he was in hospice.

“You did exactly what you needed to do. There will be another time.

“What you would have seen is so truly exciting,” Jane continued. “The program—which is all about taking care of people so they are better able to care for their environments—is working.


Emmanuel Mtiti has led our Tacare program from the very first. Wise and a born leader, he was the perfect choice to convince village leaders to join our efforts. Here we look out over the huge area where Tacare now operates to help people, animals, and the environment. (RICHARD KOBURG)



“The villagers are now so eager to learn about agroforestry and permaculture, and the farmers grow trees among their crops for shade and to fix nitrogen in the soil. All the villages have tree planting projects, and the hills around Gombe are no longer bare. And best of all, the people understand that protecting the forest is not just for wildlife but for their own future, and so they have become our partners in conservation.”

Jane told me that the Tacare method is now operating in the six other African countries where JGI is working; and as a result, the chimpanzees and their forests, along with the other wildlife, are being protected by the people who live there, in whose hands their future lies.

“I see what you’re saying about the link between nature’s resilience and human resilience,” I said. “How addressing human injustices like poverty and gender oppression makes us better able to create hope for people and the environment. Our efforts to protect endangered species preserve biodiversity on the Earth—and when we protect all life, we inherently protect our own.”

Jane smiled and nodded her head, like an elder who was passing on the secrets of life and survival. I was beginning to understand.

I checked the time. It was almost four.

“Gosh, it’s almost dark,” Jane said. “Winter. Let’s poke up the fire and have one last discussion and a wee dram. I need it for my voice.” Indeed, her voice was sounding a little strained.

Jane got out a bottle of Johnnie Walker similar to the one that I had given her in Tanzania and poured two generous tots.

We settled down again, and Jane raised her glass. “Here’s to hope,” she said. We clinked and drank.





Our Need for Nature



“The last thing I want to say,” Jane continued, her voice sounding stronger now, the whisky clearly having done its job, “is that not only are we part of the natural world, not only do we depend on it—we actually need it. In protecting these ecosystems, in rewilding more and more parts of the world, we are protecting our own well-being. There’s lots of research proving this—but it is something that is incredibly important for me. I need time in nature—even if it’s just sitting under a tree or walking in these woods or hearing a bird’s song—to give me peace of mind in a crazy world!