The sensitivity of the Maasai Mara Conservancy Model to external shocks

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Shreya Chakrabarti

The sensitivity of the Maasai Mara Conservancy Model to external shocks

Master’s thesis in Global Environmental History

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Abstract

Chakrabarti, S. 2021. The sensitivity of the Maasai Mara Conservancy Model to external shocks.

Uppsala, Deparment of Archaeology and Ancient History.

Chakrabarti, S. 2021. Maasai Mara’s miljövårdsmodell och känslighet för externa chocker. Upp- sala, Institutionen för arkeologi och antik historia.

Biodiversity loss caused by human activities is considered to be one of the greatest challenges to the stability of our planet. Protected areas emerged as a solution to this challenge, but they are not always successful due to the exclusion and displacement of local communities that live in proxim- ity to the protected area, especially in low income countries. The Maasai Mara conservancy model presents an opportunity to mitigate these problems by increasing wildlife habitat and simultane- ously improving the livelihoods of surrounding Maasai communities. However, the model is threatened by the Covid-19 pandemic which has suspended the international tourism on which the conservancies rely. In order to understand how the model can potentially increase its resilience to future global shocks, I interviewed stakeholders about their experiences within the model, during the pandemic and relating to past global shocks. Using the concept of environmentality, I sought to evaluate the structure of the model, its historical roots and the governance tools which enable its function. Some already existing issues were emphasised by the impact of the pandemic, while new opportunities for evolution were also unearthed. The most prominent theme arising from these conversations was that of equity - between tourism partners and landowners, relating to the rights of women and to the place of Maasai youth in the future of the model. The colonial history of wildlife conservation also created discussions around the exclusion of local tourists and the under- lying biases that may exist. Finally, I attempt to understand how the governance enacted within the conservancy model creates different kinds of environmental subjects. Although previous dis- cussions on environmental governance have assumed that regulation is successful, I illustrate here that power is not unidirectional because resistance and negotiation by the governed population is common. By interrogating the different layers of environmentality and how they interplay, I trace the creation new environmental subjectivities in those who are involved in the conservation of wildlife in the Maasai Mara.

Keywords: Environmentality, environmental governance, ecotourism, community-based conser- vation, neoliberal conservation, Covid-19 pandemic.

Master’s thesis in Global Environmental History (45 credits)

Supervisor: Anneli Ekblom, Defended and approved Spring Term 2021

© Shreya Chakrabarti

Department of Archaeology and Ancient History, Uppsala University,

Box 626, 75126 Uppsala, Sweden

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Acknowledgements

I would like to recognise all the contributors to this thesis for their assistance and dedication. I want to thank my supervisor, Anneli Ekblom, for her guidance, wisdom and enthusiasm at every step. I am grateful to my hosts in the Maasai Mara for their generosity and patience, and to the persons and organisations that opened their doors to me during this difficult pandemic period. I wish to express my deepest gratitude to all the interviewees for trusting me with their sto- ries. Lastly, to my friends and family for their unwavering support through this research process, thank you.

Shreya Chakrabarti, Uppsala, 04/06/2021

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1. Introduction

Biodiversity loss is considered one of the major threats to life on planet Earth today, and is mainly caused by habitat loss and degradation, over-exploitation, climate change, and pollution (UNEP, 2018). On a global scale, protected areas (PA’s) have been commonly accepted as a way to reduce the loss of biodiversity. However Protected Areas are faced with several challenges, including economic and physical displacement of local communities. This is especially prevalent in the rural areas of low income countries, where many people depend on natural resources for their liveli- hoods, leading to high levels of human-wildlife conflict. In order to minimize the effects of these conflicts, community-based-conservation (CBC) emerged as a potential win-win solution which protects wildlife whilst simultaneously providing economic opportunities to the communities that interact with and depend on wildlife for livelihoods through the creation of locally managed PA’s.

It is similar and sometimes synonymous with ecotourism, which is generally defined as nature- based tourism with three overlapping characteristics: (i) it reduces the negative environmental, social and economic impact associated with mass tourism; (ii) it achieves an overall positive con- tribution to environmental conservation; and (iii) it improves the quality of life for local commu- nities (Stronza 2008:3)

In Kenya, the Maasai have always coexisted with the wildlife, but due to the pressures of growing population and urbanisation in the country, human-wildlife conflict has been on the rise whilst wildlife numbers have decreased by 70% for the last 30 years (KWCA, online). The Maasai Mara conservancy model presents an opportunity to mitigate these problems by increasing wildlife hab- itat and simultaneously improving the livelihoods of surrounding communities. The premise of the model is this: communal lands adjacent to MMNR are leased by tourism partners in order to in- crease the land available for free roaming wildlife. By contrast to conventional models of conser- vation, such as national parks, the Maasai Mara conservancy model represents an applied example of community-based conservation because the landowners receive direct benefits from the tourism partners such as land-lease payments, employments in the camps and school fees bursaries for their children. It is therefore an interesting example in terms of a model which has potential to be replicated in other parts of the world.

The model, however, is not without problems. Not all members of the community are landowners, and some landowners have not conscribed to the model, which carries the risk of disenfranchise- ment of some households and can be detrimental to the future of the model. While differences exist between conservancies in Maasai Mara, the community has been in some sense, forced to accept the very principle of conservation, as defined by the tourism partners and conservancy man- agement, even though the Maasai have been living in proximity with the wildlife for generations.

In this thesis, I will in particular follow the process of these negotiations since the model’s estab- lishment until the impact of Covid-19 in 2020, by analysing relevant documents and comparing this to interview data collected from a variety of stakeholders in January 2021.

As in other tourism destinations around the world, Kenya and specifically the Maasai Mara con-

servancies were impacted by the Covid-19 pandemic as international and domestic tourism de-

clined abruptly over a period of weeks. The UNWTO estimated that international arrivals fell by

22% in the first quarter of 2020 (c.f. Fotiadis & Huan, 2021). Although the world has experienced

several major pandemics in the last four decades, they did not have as significant implications on

the global economy (Gossling et al, 2020). The conservancy model of Maasai Mara is highly de-

pendent on tourism as its main source of revenues – making the model especially vulnerable to

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changes in global markets and trends in tourism. According to The Maasai Mara Wildlife Con- servancies Association, 2019 was a year with one of the highest levels of tourism to the Maasai Mara (MMWCA). However, with the onset of Covid-19 in March 2020 and international travel down to almost nothing, tourism partners struggled to meet their commitments to the landowners, hence risking the future of the entire model. There have been other examples of crises in the tour- ism industry in Kenya, for instance the 2008 economic crises and the Al-shabaab terror attacks in Kenya which certainly deterred tourism. How and what can we learn from these and the ongoing experience of Covid -19? Through innovation, collaboration and creative negotiation, almost all the Mara Conservancies were able to make it through 2020. However, the high levels of uncer- tainty that surround the pandemic with changes taking place almost weekly make the future un- predictable. By conducting interviews with relevant stakeholders such as landowners, tourism partners, MMWCA officials, NGOs operating in the Mara and others, I sought to understand the development of the conservancy model itself, how it is working through the pandemic and to iden- tify potential avenues for increasing resilience of the conservancy model in the face of future global shocks. Together with analysis of the MMWCA’s Cultural and Natural Resource Management Conservation Action Plan (CNR-CAP 2015), I hope to answer the following questions:

• How have different stakeholders negotiated the Maasai Mara Conservancy Model over time?

• Are there similarities and differences of interests between different stakeholder groups and how have they changed over time?

• How do stakeholders define external shocks and what are potential mitigations of future shocks on the model?

• What can be learnt from the model in terms of building equitable and convivial conserva- tion interventions?

Using the concept of environmentality (cf. Agarwal, 2005), I will attempt to evaluate how the

different forms of regulation enacted in the conservancy model have created a variety of local

environmental subjectivities amongst stakeholders, and how these environmentalies enable wild-

life conservation but also how it is challenged. I will attempt to answer these questions by analyz-

ing policy documents obtained from the Maasai Mara Wildlife Conservancy Associations

(MMWCA) website comparing this to interviews conducted with stakeholders in the model. A

majority of the interviews were carried out in January 2021 during fieldwork in the Maasai Mara,

while some were conducted online in the subsequent months. The interviews took place amidst

the Covid-19 crisis, and so the crisis came to naturally be the center of our conversations about the

conservancy model. Qualitative research is a dynamic process and the subjectivity of this method

meant that I played an active role in the process, embodying the role of an “instrument” of data

collection (Creswell, 2003). My approach was an etic one, i.e. an outside viewer to the process but

it is inevitable that my worldview, perspectives and biases informed my choices throughout the

process. Therefore, an important part of this journey was the practice of reflexivity, which involved

taking into consideration how I think, why this may be and how this would impact my research

(Haynes, 2010). It was certainly a challenge, but it made my research adaptive, iterative and en-

sured that I was careful in the way that I represented the voices of my research participants.

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2. Conceptualization and methods

2.1 Environmentality

Environmentality, was a concept proposed by Arun Agarwal (2005) in his research on forest con- servation in the Kumaon region of India. He asks, “when and for what reason do socially situated actors come to care for, act and think of their actions in relation to something that they define as the environment?” and, “what distinguishes them from those who still do not care or act in relation to the environment?” (2005:164-165). Agrawal explores these questions by referring to Foucault’s (1991) concept of governmentality, which is defined broadly as the ‘art of government’. He found that enduring forest management regimes in Kumaon, beginning with the colonial administration into the time of his writing, had significantly impacted local peoples’ practices and their disposi- tion towards care of the forests. Conservation had imposed a set of knowledges and practices lo- cally, which in Foucauldian terms could be called ‘knowledge regimes’. The newly generated knowledge and practices were internalised by local actors resulting in the emergence of new po- litical subjects. The local participants were able to reflect on the external interventions and conse- quently shape a particular environmental subjectivity as a response to the conservation program, and these subjectivities enable critical engagement with the community-based project aimed at creating socio-ecological transformations (Agarwal, 2005).

Using the lens of governmentality, Agarwal examined how power is not just repressive but can also be productive, evoking and fostering new knowledge systems, techniques for regulation and subject positions which are designed to benefit the governing authority but may also benefit local communities through subtle acts of resistance (Agarwal, 2005:166). In this sense, the relationships between knowledge/power, institutions and regulations are the three elements of governmentality which mutually evolve over time to produce new environmental subjects. Environmentality thus seeks to reveal how power can be applied to the ways in which we understand and act upon ques- tions of environmental management, by presenting the environment as not just a biophysical real- ity, but also a site of power where truths are made, circulated and remade (see discussion in Ruth- erford, 2016).

To understand the concept of environmentality and how it will be used here I also need to explain Foucault’s concept of ‘governmentality’ which has been expanded into a number of categories which, he argued, overlap to form the basis of politics (2007). These are (i) disciplinary whereby subjects are admonished to internalise specific norms and values through which they become com- pelled to self-regulate; (ii) sovereign in which compliance is achieved through top-down prescrip- tion threatened with punishment; (iii) neoliberal which entails the creation of external incentive structures that are manipulated to produce appropriate behaviours in individuals; and (iv) truth where appropriate behaviour is derived from the claim that they are fundamental to nature and the universe (ibid). Fletcher (2010) applied these regimes to environmental governance, arguing that multiple environmentalities overlap and interplay in the implementation of modern conservation policy, leading to the production of different kinds of subjects, as stakeholders embody a range of behaviours derived from the various forms of regulation.

With regards to wildlife conservation, environmental governance in Kenya today occurs within

the framework of neoliberalism as resource management has become increasingly decentralized

from state control (Buscher & Dressler, 2007:593). Research has shown that wildlife conservation

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in Africa shifted from the preservationist state-managed ‘fortress conservation’ practiced by colo- nial administrators to a more neoliberal form (e.g. Bluwstein, 2018). This occurs in several ways.

Firstly, neoliberal conservation creates a capitalist market for the consumption and exchange of natural resources in which the communities involved receive economic benefit by providing their lands for wildlife conservation. Secondly, it commodifies both natural resources as well as culture into a product for trade within this market. The third, fourth and fifth points are connected: the creation of private conservancies in line with neoliberal privatization, has reduced direct govern- ment involvement in the management of these resources and given power to local authorities, communities and non-state actors through the decentralization of resource governance (Fletcher, 2010: 172). This privatisation is characteristic with the “re-regulation of nature through forms of commodification…which entails new forms of territorialisation” whereby resources and land- scapes are partitioned in ways that control local people (Brockington & Igoe, 2007:438). Protected areas become trans-nationalised spaces of high biodiversity value which have been re-regulated in order to generate new kinds of economic value, making them attractive to external parties and national elites, often at the expense of local communities (Ferguson, 2006).

The devolution of government power regarding conservation creates space for the rise of Big In- ternational Non-Governmental Organisations (BINGOs). These organisations dominate the allo- cation of funding for environmental initiatives, which is concerning due to their ties to the corpo- rate interests that may undermine the success of projects that do not meet their objectives. On a global scale, BINGOs and other institutions such as MNCs and financial institutions are connected by networks of actors, ideas and funds which “regularly cross boundaries to influence governance of environmental affairs in a variety of localities” (Büscher, 2014) and often function as “interpre- tative communities” by representing certain projects as successful according to policy goals, whether or not this is the case on the ground.

While proponents of neoliberal conservation argue that ecotourism in these areas has the potential to improve livelihoods and reduce inequality, the benefits accrued from natural capital are not evenly distributed. Central to neoliberal conservation is the creation of “eco-rational subjects”.

Relating to Agarwal’s concept of Environmentality, local communities are given legally guaran- teed property rights which incentivize and empower them to protect natural resources by becoming

“environmental stakeholders”. (Goldman, 2001). These ‘eco-rational subjects’, are given capital or collateral to engage in economic activities related to conservation. They are, it is assumed, better able to realize the market value of the landscape in which they live, and are able to acquire the skills, technology and notion of accountability: Supposedly making them better carers of nature and more employable in the ecotourism industry according to the values prescribed by the inter- pretive communities involved in ‘leading’ this conservation work. However, differences exist in the mobility, access and quality of resources available to local actors when compared to foreign conservationists engaging in the same arena, resulting in further inequality (Garland, 2008). Ad- ditionally, the ‘eco-rational subjects’ may also actively shape the conservancies, because power can flow in other directions than initially assumed.

Other forms of governmentality of environment are realized materially and non-materially. For example, the sovereign mode is seen in the threat of fines for activities deemed “illegal” in the PA, such as grazing of livestock in prohibited areas or times (e.g. Bedelian, 2012). The disciplinary form occurs whereby the western ideals of conservation as the separation of human and non-human animals are internalized by the local communities, which previously co-existed with the wildlife.

This is materially visible in the physical division of humans and non-human animals through the creation of protected areas.

The intrinsic rationality of governmentality elicits that structures and forms of knowledge and

power elucidate certain ways of perceiving and behaving, while foreclosing others (Rutherford,

2016:2). The western scientific way of seeing is prioritized over indigenous knowledge and prac-

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tices. Measurability and categorization as seen in the use of scientific method leads to a new per- ception of nature and creates new authorities empowered to its management, reflecting the produc- tivity of power discussed by Foucault (2007). This would include the adoption of particular be- haviors and the rejection of others, based on the values of western conservation.

The neoliberal mode of conservation has strong ties to colonial visions of Africa. The iconic image of East African savannahs teeming with charismatic species such as lions and elephants is a pro- duction of the “dialectical history of European exploration and colonization of the continent, pro- cesses through which Africa came to figure as an important space of nature in an emerging Western imaginary—a wild and natural backdrop against which people of European descent could define themselves as belonging to a civilized, specifically Western, world” (Garland, 2008:51-52). This image is not limited to Western tourists but has spread into mainstream culture through the ubiq- uity of the aforementioned charismatic species in mass capitalistic production and consumption, turning them into “natural capital”, access to which is believed to be a global right. The burden of protecting these species falls on the shoulders of the countries they inhabit, but the process of conservation is not determined by African peoples or nations. Rather, local actors in the conserva- tion space engage in the supply of wildlife to the world from a global perspective that is entrenched in the continent’s history of colonisation, synonymous with nature in Western worldviews (ibid).

The interpretative communities described above are party to the reproduction of this colonial im- age because western ideals of conservation perpetuate the image of nature as untouched and un- damaged by human presence, including that of indigenous peoples. These indigenous communities are pitted against nature, and the Garden of Eden trope is used to justify foreign intervention as necessary to saving the wildlife for consumption by the West (Nuemann, 1998). This is empha- sised by the countless white conservationists who have gained global fame for their efforts, while the thousands of Africans who sacrifice their land and natural resources to this mission go unno- ticed (see detailed discussion in Garland, 2008). This is one of the many inequalities resulting from the neoliberal mode of conservation, where wildlife is represented as natural capital.

Critics of neoliberal conservation, enacted through multiple forms of ‘environmentality’, express concern for its creation or exacerbation of social, economic and political inequality (Brockington et al, 2008). The commodification of living and non-living actors such land, fauna and flora along with local communities, results in a situation where the value of these actors and their right to existence in the landscape is dictated by the market price (Buscher & Dressler 2007). In addition to the adoption of the western scientific lens, another way of seeing in neoliberal conservation is defined by the NGOs and international donors that fund the projects. This perception relies on the discursive power enacted by the existence of a kind of global environment-development agenda consists of, as written by Bucscher & Dressler, “well-known buzz-words such as…participation, good governance, ownership, public-private partnerships…” (2007:596). These agendas lead to a widening of the gap between the rhetoric found in progress reports and ‘institutional best prac- tices’, and the reality of the projects on the ground. It is related to the process of generating funding for these projects, which makes it less important whether the project has tangible success that is meaningful to the community, as long as it meets the criteria defined in the governance agenda (ibid:596). Oftentimes, the communities are viewed as an inconvenient obstacle to the mission of conservation and they are included in the projects without true decision-making power.

However, as explored by Agarwal (2005) in his research on the Kumaoni forest councils, the local

communities involved in these projects are able to resist external interventions by exercising the

power of their intimate social knowledge and situated practices. Thus, it cannot be pre-assumed

the degree to which local actors have the power to reshape the agenda, nor that communities are

universally disfavoured or disempowered. In their review the evolution of environmental govern-

ance research, Fletcher and Cortes-Vasquez (2017) argued that studies in environmentality tend to

assume that the enactment of governance is successful. Furthermore, they encourage future re-

search in the field to examine more closely the formation of subjectivities as Agarwal (2005) had

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done in his seminal book. Taking these ideas into consideration, I sought to understand how the conservancy concept was envisioned in the CNR-CAP and how it unfolds in reality from the per- spective of different actors. I will thus use Agrawal’s framing to evaluate how the history of conservation and politics of land use created space for the establishment of the conservancy model in the Maasai Mara; the regulations, institutions and practices that interplay within this arena to produce different types of environmental subjects, and how this is being negotiated locally. I will also ask how the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic further elucidates the structures of power op- erating within the system, bringing with it perhaps opportunities for greater equity.

2.2 Method

In this research, I did not subscribe to one particular method but used a mix of tools from qualita- tive research to build my own method. I believed that this would best suit the needs of this thesis as I required the rich, detailed characteristic of qualitative data in order to build “thick description”.

This was achieved by interrogating and describing “the intentions, motives, meanings, contexts, situations and circumstances of action” (Minichiello et al., 2008:5 cf. Oltmann, 2016). I chose the categories of participants based on research into the conservancy model’s stakeholders. In order to gain a holistic perspective, I tried to interview at least one person from each category. I used personal contacts to access the network of professionals working in the conservancy sector, and also used social media by posting in relevant Facebook and LinkedIn groups. Some of the partic- ipants reached out voluntarily, and introduced me to other important stakeholders. I then organised a trip to the region with assistance from an organisation that was interested in my research topic.

This organisation arranged for me to meet with landowners and other conservancy employees.

However, I was not able to make contact with some groups such as women stakeholders directly involved in the conservancies, and also community members who were not part of the conservancy model. This was unfortunate because these are considered to be groups that are marginalised in the model, and while I tried to include their perspective by speaking to other participants, it means that their first-hand experiences were not included in this thesis. It is also important to note that I only communicated directly with stakeholders in four out of the sixteen conservancies because of time constraints and accessibility. However, I attempted to balance it out by incorporating infor- mation from conservancy websites and MMWCA.

Semi-structured interviews

I chose semi-structured interviews which involved asking open-ended questions, but I used an

interview guide with a list of topics which I had decided based on a reviewing the appropriate

literature. According to Burnard (1991), this is the most useful method of interviewing when the

researcher only has the chance to interview the participants once, which was the case with most of

the interviewees in the conservancies. Although, I did ask them for their contact details and reached

out to a few with follow up questions during the analysis process. When conducting the interviews,

I ensured that the participant was aware about the purpose of the research through the provision of

an information sheet which detailed my topic and objectives, as well as the participant’s rights

including anonymity, confidentiality and the option to withdraw at any time. I then gave them time

to ask questions after which I asked that they sign a consent form. Both these documents are at-

tached as appendices. As recommended by Burnard (1991), I digitally recorded the interviews

using my mobile phone so that I could give my full attention to the participant while they were

speaking. While I did take notes to remind myself of important concepts and organisations that

they mentioned and of things that I wanted to circle back to in the course of the interview; these

were rudimentary and short hand so as not to distract the interviewee.

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There were advantages to the use of this method. I attempted to maintain an informal and conver- sational tone with the participants. The personal nature of my interaction with the interviewees appeared to make the participants more comfortable and therefore motivated to share their experi- ences. Throughout the process, I tried to make the participants feel like their responses were truly valued, and made sure to thank them personally for their participation. Secondly, a majority of the interviews were conducted in person, and some were done virtually via Zoom or Skype. This per- sonal contact enabled me to read between the lines and observe physical cues that would otherwise have been lost, such as laughter, body language and pauses which could be hints for topics that should be probed further or avoided. Finally, I used semi-structured interviews because, although I had broad areas of inquiry, my goal was to get as much detailed and person-centred information in order to understand the intricacies and multiplicities of perspectives around the same issues.

The conversational nature of the interviews enabled me to dig deeper into specific beliefs, attitudes and practices that the interviewees felt strongly about, shedding light on the power dynamics and priorities of different participants in their diverse roles.

Although this was the appropriate method for my desired outcomes, there were some challenges.

The interview process was time consuming. Firstly, organising the interviews at times and loca- tions that were suitable for both parties took a lot of planning and logistics. In order to conduct the interviews in a natural setting as recommended by Brinkman (2014), I had to travel to the Maasai Mara to meet with landowners and conservancy employees, which took a considerable amount of time. The interviews themselves took between 45 minutes to one hour, but the process of tran- scription that followed was the most intensive part. A total of 22 interviews were transcribed word for word using an online software, and yielded over 150 pages of transcript, which all had to be analysed and interpreted. Another challenge was that the interview process depended largely on my personal skills and attributes. The first interviews were challenging because I forgot some of the tips given to me by my supervisor, but I noticed an improvement the more I did. As a re- searcher, the process benefitted me in terms of personal development and learning because I was able to practice skills that will be useful in the future.

Thematic Analysis

Although I did not use a specific method in this research, the process I followed aligns closely with thematic analysis, defined as a method for analysing classifications and patterns that relate to data, that engages with diverse subjects through interpretation of this data (Braun & Clarke, 2006).

This method was useful because my research centred around the experience of stakeholders in the conservancy model, so the ability of this method to provide rich, detailed and complex data ena- bled me to gain a thorough understanding of the “big picture” by analysing individual participants’

behaviours, thoughts and practices within the framework of the model (Creswell, 2003).

I conducted preliminary analysis during the transcription process because I made notes on the patterns and themes that emerged from my reading. As suggested by Minichiello et al. (2008:10 cf. Oltmann, 2016), I studied the data for “themes in the natural language of the participants”. The next step was coding the data in order to create a structure. I did this by reading and re-reading the transcripts, as well my field notes that were made during interviews and creating labels to indicate that certain excerpts or concepts were part of a particular theme. I was able to categorise the raw data, by breaking it into meaningful parts and then reconstructing it in a way that made sense.

Next, I created an Excel document corresponding to each of the themes, which I used to build out

the interrelationships between each of the excerpts included in the document. This enabled me to

build conceptual coherence and consistency, as well as to map out how the findings would fit

within my chosen theoretical framework. I then compiled these notes into the narrative which

forms my thesis.

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3. Background

A key aspect of the environmentality framework emphasised by Agarwal (2005) is the importance of historical context - how it produces the beliefs and practices of the target population for envi- ronmental governance. Therefore, in this Chapter, I will briefly outline the state policies on wild- life conservation which created the conditions under which the conservancy model could emerge as a solution to the problems being faced by the Maasai. Beginning with the colonial administra- tion’s approach to conservation, the history of land tenure, specifically, impacted the Maasai’s perception of the value and uses of land, and this led to the desire for individualisation which enabled the realisation of the conservancy model.

3.1 A Brief History of Conservation in Kenya

While there are many accounts of the British administration’s approach to wildlife management during the colonial era, there is less so on the practices of pre-colonial indigenous communities.

According to Chongwa (2012), there is little evidence of monetary factors influencing trade in wildlife resources in pre-colonial communities. There is an understanding that communities had strong physical, spiritual and intellectual ties to their lands and developed practices based on “long- term empirical knowledge acquired from experiences, observations and practices over countless generations” (Waithaka, 2012: 22). With regards to non-human animals, traditional indigenous ontologies dictated the sustainable use of wild animals as food, clothing, shelter, medicines, weap- ons and as part of tribal rituals, based on the belief that taking more than what was needed would bring natural disasters to the community (ibid).

Britain declared protectorate over Uganda and Kenya in 1894, resulting in the arbitrary unioniza- tion of over forty previously independent tribes – many of whom were nomadic pastoralists – as well as the division of single communities such as the Maasai between Kenya and Tanganyika (Ndege, 2009). In the next 70 or so years of colonial occupation, the British administration devel- oped and implemented a number of legislations around wildlife and its use by humans. Initially, these policies were centered around the rationale of restoration or keeping areas as “pristine natural landscapes” showing little understanding of landscape history or regard for local livelihood prac- tices and pre-colonial methods of co-existence between humans and non-humans (Cockerill &

Hagerman, 2020). The British quickly established the North and South Game Reserves in 1896, where controlled extraction of wildlife was enacted in the form of sport hunting and removal of

“vermin” from potential ranch and farmland, whilst simultaneously banning traditional hunting techniques (Waithaka, 2012). The Crown Land Ordinance of 1902 saw the displacement of local communities to accommodate the wave of European settlers who were given these lands to culti- vate surplus agricultural and cattle production to increase revenues for the empire (Matheka, 2008).

Particularly affected were nomadic pastoralists such as the Maasai, who were subsequently ma-

nipulated into the Maasai Agreements of 1904 and 1911, the beginning of the alienation of these

communities from both the white settlers and the colonial administration. This was compounded

by the implementation of The National Parks Ordinance of 1945, which technically required that

local communities be consulted if national parks were to be created in their areas of residence, but

there was little evidence that local interests were considered with regard to both colonial and post-

colonial state objectives (Kabiri, 2010)

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The colonial dichotomization of humans and nature, according to Cockerill & Hagerman (2020:4) had several lasting effects, which were almost wholly adopted and maintained by the post-colonial government. Firstly, it put the custodianship of wildlife squarely in the hands of the state. Second, it instigated the dominance of Western epistemologies and ideological colonization and subse- quent diminishing of traditional African practices. Third, the prioritization of agriculture increased human-wildlife conflict by subscribing non-wildlife compatible livelihood activities in areas with large wildlife populations. Lastly, these colonial policies initiated the long-standing and continued prioritization of wildlife for the benefit of foreigners, and its commodification as a tourism export, which is still the main model of conservation today.

Kenya gained independence from the British Empire in 1963. A global movement involving an array of players such as international NGOs, local conservationists and entrepreneurs emerged from the concern of securing African wildlife in the face of decolonization across the continent (Matheka, 2008). This was achieved through cultivation of norms of state responsibility for envi- ronmental protection and the creation of international conventions (Igoe & Brockington, 2007:43).

Until 1975, a majority of the policies put in place by the colonial administration were maintained under the first (late) President Jomo Kenyatta’s one-party government. The only wildlife-related policy during this period was Sessional Paper No. 3 of 1975 Statement on Future Wildlife Man- agement, which shed light on the state’s economic focus, whereby wildlife conservation was per- ceived as a competition for economically viable land-use practices such as agriculture. (Republic of Kenya 1975, in Cockerill & Hagerman, 2020). The 1977 Wildlife Conservation Management Act and the 1978 Ivory Ban created a narrative that consumptive use of wildlife was “non-African”

and conflated foreigner’s sport hunting with poaching, casting ‘the poacher’ as one universal cat- egory and as the enemy. The legislation also had the negative effect of demonising “bush-meat hunting”, a traditional subsistence activity (Cockerill & Hagerman, 2020), and a practice that is illegal in Kenya today. Thus, with the implementation of new legislations, the ideological separa- tion of humans and nature persisted.

The 1970s and 1980s saw a shift in the international conservation community’s ethos to a more sustainable approach, resulting in the ratification of international conventions such as IUCN Con- servation Strategy of 1980 and Langkawi Declaration on the Environment in 1989, which sought to undo the “historical misalignment of social development and preservation of wildlife” (Cock- erill & Hagerman, 2020:5). This encouraged Kenya to establish the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) in 1989, which, for the first time, aimed to specifically address the needs of local communities’

vis a vis wildlife on land outside of national parks. Programmes such as “Parks for Kenyans” and

“Parks Beyond Parks” encouraged community involvement and participation in conservation ac- tivities by promoting revenue sharing deals, landowner associations and investment in eco-tour- ism. The KWS Board of Trustees required a ratio of one community representative to every six state appointed members, but, according to Waithaka (2012), this was not implemented consist- ently; and when community representatives did get a seat on the table, they were often political elites from those communities, with corruption and pandering being a major concern.

As government priorities shifted, KWS lost some of the momentum from its initial years

(Waithaka, 2012). In line with the general global trend towards neoliberalisation of environmental

protection this shift, combined with a $1million loan from World Bank for tourism and wildlife in

the 1990s, led to a further increase in bilateral funding. These moves made investment in wildlife

tourism lucrative for the private sector, setting the stage for the arrival of NGOs as a dominant

player in the Kenyan wildlife conservation sector (Cockerill & Hagerman, 2020). It also led to the

emergence of a new mode of conservation, private conservancies.

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3.2 The rise of the Mara Conservancies

The Maasai Mara National Reserve (MMNR) was established in 1961 as a state controlled pro- tected area with highly restricted human activity. It covers an area of 1510km2 and forms a critical portion of the Greater Serengeti-Mara Ecosystem. Historically, the areas surrounding the MMNR were used as communal grazing spaces by the pastoral Maasai community (MMWCA, 2019). In 1968, the Kenyan government promoted the creation of group ranches, whereby groups of people were given formal and legal tenure over their land. This policy aimed to commercialise Maasai livestock production by creating incentives for the landowners to improve rangeland management and reduce the inclination to amass large herds, which in turn would reduce environmental degra- dation caused by these practices in the region (Bedelian, 2014). The region, previously open range- land, was divided into smaller units of differing sizes and held under corporate title (Mwangi, 2007). The Greater Mara Ecosystem (GME) covered 11 group ranches: Koiyaki, Lemek, Ol Kin- yei, Majimoto, Siana, Naikarra, Olderkessi, Kimintet, Oloirien, Keringani as well as private land which made up the Olchoro Oiroua Wildlife Association area. These ranches were generally rec- ognized to encompass the entire area used by the Mara’s wildlife, and their members were entitled to 19% of the revenue generated from the MMNR in benefits (MMWCA, 2017)

Figure 1: The Greater Mara Ecosystem (The Maa Trust, 2020)

Just one decade after the implementation of this directive from the government, there were de-

mands to dissolve these group ranches and divide them into legitimatised individual units to be

distributed among registered members of the group ranches (Kimani & Pickard, 1998). In theory,

the climatic, soil and geographic features of Maasailand make it more suitable for collective own-

ership and management but, as has been argued by Mwangi (2007: 890), the call for subdivision

of group ranches was a “defensive response […] designed to secure and protect their land claims

against threats from both within and outside the community”. The alienation that began with co-

lonial land policy was only heightened by the Maasai’s experience with the group ranch concept

because control over the communal lands was subject to “compromised and self-interested group

ranch management committee” (idem.). Subsequently, the demand for dissolution came from

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within the community itself, following the rationale that individual ownership would give land- owners decision-making rights over their property and therefore, despite government and donor support for the group ranches, the Maasai chose to formalise their land rights by holding private titles (Bedelian, 2014).

The process of land subdivision resulted in a highly-fragmented landscape and greater individual- isation of previously communal decisions. Previous research (e.g. Galaty, 1992) has shown that this process was ridden with corruption, and favouritism towards the wealthy and powerful group ranch members who were often part of the management committee. It created a situation of ‘elite capture’, with large, fertile pieces of land and those with higher business value being given to the politically powerful and their cohorts (Mwangi, 2007). The land reform also led to the disposses- sion of land from the Maasai community into the hands of non-Maasai businessmen through sim- ilar incidences of corruption (Galaty, 1992). In addition, marginalised groups including women and youth were excluded from the right to ownership due to cultural norms, leading to a skewed and inequitable landscape (Bedelian, 2014). After the process of sub-division, several of the indi- vidual landowners came into agreements with private sector investors to form wildlife conservan- cies that exist today. Thus, already embedded in the Maasai Mara model is the problematic legacy of land allocation and exclusion which also results in elite capture in terms of direct benefits.

The conservancy concept emerged as a response to the challenges of poaching, human-wildlife conflict, land degradation and rising poverty (MMWCA, 2017). It is based on the premise that through provision of the required support, incentives and policy framework, communities and landowners can become stewards of conservation, enabling them to protect and benefit from a healthy and productive environment (Weldemichel & Lein, 2019). Conservancies are defined by IUCN as a Protected Area under Category IV, with the objective of promoting sustainable use of natural resources for social and economic benefits to local communities, integrating cultural ap- proaches while maintaining a balanced relationship between humans and nature (2021, online).

Alternatively, Indigenous peoples’ and Community conserved territories and areas (ICCAs) are also recognised under the CBD (Aichi Target 11 Protected Areas, ‘other effective area-based forms of conservation’) and defined as ‘natural or modified ecosystems containing significant biodiver- sity values and ecological services, voluntarily conserved by (sedentary and mobile) indigenous and local communities, through customary laws or other effective means’ (c.f. King et al, 2016).

Although there were privately managed protected areas around the country beginning from the 1970s, the concept gained momentum in Maasai Mara in the 2000s (King et al, 2016). The first private conservancy, Ol Kinyei was set up in 2005 by a private company, Gamewatchers Safaris

& Porini Camps, through the initiation of land-lease payments to owners of the land adjacent to the Maasai Mara National Reserve (MMWCA, 2020). Around the same time, Olare Orok Con- servancy was also established under similar conditions, but with multiple tourism partners. This model was different from all previous conservation initiatives in the Mara because it guaranteed monthly lease payments based on land size, regardless of visitor numbers, and entailed exclusive wildlife-viewing access to conservancy tourism partners (Bedelian, 2012). Today, there are 16 registered conservancies of varied size, with a total of 14,528 Maasai landowners. These conserv- ancies combined with the Maasai Mara National Reserve (MMNR) provide habitat for approxi- mately 25% of Kenya’s total wildlife, hosting more than 95 species of mammals with the greatest densities of both wild and domestic herbivores in the country (MMWCA, 2019).

The Wildlife Conservation and Management Act of 2013 legitimized the already existing and es-

tablished conservancies, defining them as “an area of land set aside by an individual landowner,

body corporate, group of owners or a community for the purposes of wildlife conservation” (Min-

istry of Tourism and Wildlife, online). This legislation, for the first time, recognized conservation

as a form of land-use. In addition, it offered an enabling legal framework for conservancy opera-

tions by introducing the guiding principle of devolution of the conservation and management of

wildlife into the hands of landowners and managers in areas outside state-protected areas. The

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conservancies were initially managed independently, but some were affiliated with organisations involved in the management of Mara Triangle. In 2015, after some political strife and negotiations within the community, a new institution tasked with the consolidation of management of the con- servancies was created.

The Maasai Mara Wildlife Conservancies Association (MMWCA), a regional arm of the Kenya Wildlife Conservancies Association (KWCA), is a “membership organization committed to con- serve the greater Maasai Mara Ecosystem, through a network of protected areas (conservancies and conservation areas), for the prosperity of all – biodiversity and wildlife, the regional Maasai population, recreation and tourism for the nation of Kenya” (MMWCA, 2019:9). The organisation is community-owned and democratically managed. Governance structure of the institution has di- vided the landscape into three clusters: Eastern, Northern and Western. Each of these clusters democratically elects three representatives (landowners and tourism partners) to sit on the MMWCA Conservancies Council, which is the main decision-making body in the landscape. The interests of Maasai landowners are therefore of high priority, and paramount to the success of the model. The Conservancies Council brings together landowners, tourism partners, local communi- ties, conservancy management, conservation partners such as NGOs, government institutions and scientists with the aim of protecting the existing conservancies and securing further land for habitat expansion. Being a membership organisation, the MMWCA does not have legal authority to im- plement policies or sanctions, but works on the basis of mediation, lobbying and fundraising.

Table 1, below, outlines the established conservancies in the Maasai Mara. It has been adapted from MMWCA policy documents as well as information from conservancy websites.

Name Year of Est.

Land (acres)

Land- owners

Facili- ties

Background

Enonkishu ²⁰¹¹ ⁵⁹²⁸ ⁴² ² Partnership between Olerai Mara Farm Management and surrounding landowners

Lemek ²⁰⁰⁹ ¹⁷³⁵ ⁴⁸⁰ ⁵ Amalgamation of 4 associations on the Lemek side of the Koyaki-Lemek Wildlife Trust

Naboisho ²⁰¹⁰ ^53,446 ⁶⁰⁹ ⁸ Amalgamation of 4 associations on the Lemek side of the Koyaki-Lemek Wildlife Trust

Mara North (MNC)

2009 64,567 696 13 Amalgamation of the 12 associations managing the Koiyaki section of the Ko- yaki-Lemek Wildlife Trust

Nashulai ²⁰¹⁶ ^4,320 ⁶³ ¹ Partnership between local community member and landowners in the area adjacent to MMNR

Olare Motorogi (OMC)

2006 / 2007

33,366 292 5 Originally two separate conservancies – Olare Orok (which was formed by landowners supported by tourism partners) and Motorogi Conservancy (landowners supported by Virgin)

Olarro ^24,500 ^2,200 ² Expanded in 2016 to form North and South Olarro

Olchorro Oiroua

1992 15,993 177 4 Formed by Olchoro Oiroua Wildlife association

Ol Kinyei ²⁰⁰⁵ ^18,641 ²⁴⁰ ⁴ Formed from Ol Kinyei Group Ranch by one investor, Porini Camps

Olderkesi ²⁰¹⁶ ^7,000 ⁷⁰⁰⁰ ⁴ Created as a partnership between local community and tourism partner, Cottars

Oloisukut ²⁰¹⁰ ^23,000 ⁶⁵ ² Formed from Kimintet Group Ranch, relaunched in partnership with WWF in 2016

Pardamat ²⁰¹⁶ ^64,420 ⁸⁵⁰ ⁰ Created from Block 3 of the former Koiyaki Group Ranch

Siana ²⁰¹⁶ ^11,000 ¹⁴⁸⁴ ⁵ Formed from Siana Group Ranch in 2001, re-launched in partnership with WWF in 2016

Isaaten ²⁰¹² ^6,422 ³¹⁸ ¹ Part of the Greater Siana, formed through collaboration of Bushtop with landowners

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4. Debating the Conservancy Model

The conservancy model arose in response to issues of poaching, human-wildlife conflict and pov- erty in the communities living in proximity to wildlife (Weldemichel & Lein, 2019). Since the inception of the concept, through to the establishment of MMWCA and into the present global challenges caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, the conservancy model has evolved in response to changing conditions in the landscape. In this chapter, I will discuss the structure of the model, its benefits and challenges as expressed by various stakeholders. The pandemic enabled evaluation of the model through a different lens, emphasising some issues that were previously hidden and also unearthing new opportunities for further evolution.

4.1 Benefits to landowners

Land lease payments

Landowners receive several benefits from the conservancy model. The first and most obvious is the monthly land lease payments which have improved living standards by providing a fixed and reliable income. The payment is calculated based on the size of the land in hectares and then di- vided over 12 months. An MMWCA employee explained the structure of the lease payment: “we have about 49 different camps that are supporting that 1500 square km of land […] the tourism partners collect revenues and then they get money to run the conservancy operations and they also get money to be able to pay leases to the landowners.” While this benefit is unique in its provision of income to a large number of people, some landowners believe that the lease payments should be increased. They have to consider payments from the conservancy in relation to other land uses such as wheat farming and grass banks, which can be more lucrative than the lease payments. An individual working at KWCA explained the situation as follows:

I think eco-tourism […] is, in a way, in a danger from other forms of land uses and other livelihood streams because tourism is not stable... the past two years [have] shown that. So, I think the challenge for [the tourism partners] would be to be able to prove their usefulness to a landowner who has lots of other options.

Those who are conservancy members receive the benefits from tourism and believe in the concept of protecting the wildlife, but how far would this belief go? Several of the landowners, when dis- cussing the lease fees, mentioned that despite being happy with their situation and their loyalty to the conservancy model, they are aware of non-members in the community earning higher incomes from alternative land use practices. For example, one landowner who is employed at a camp said:

…because now the problem is, now like in this community which we are, some other people who have not offered their land for wildlife use, what they are doing, they are selling grass.

They fence the land, and now call anyone who have a lot of cows […] to graze in this land.

So, the amount of money that people [pay to] use this land for fattening […] the lease pay- ment should be more, twice than that so [that] everybody will think of offering their land for wildlife use.

As expressed by the informant above, the landowners are not isolated from the wider community.

They are aware of the kinds of land uses that their neighbours are practicing and can compare their

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incomes. They therefore believe that the payments should be increased, especially since the leases span over long periods, some up to 25 years, and cost of living can increase over that time. How- ever, there are other landowners who understand the challenges faced by the tourism partners with regards to business costs and the financial or political zeitgeist. For example, one informant, a landowner’s son who is employed at a conservancy camp, expressed disapproval of the fact that that many landowners in the community are inconsiderate of the tourism partners’ other financial obligations and challenges. This is an indication of the complexity of the relationship between the tourism partners and the landowners.

In order to address the demand for higher lease payments, an alternative arrangement has been proposed by some of the conservancies and it was brought up by two interviewees, a tour operator and a conservancy manager. The suggested solution is to have an agreed upon minimum amount, with flexible increases or decreases based on the success of the tourism businesses during the year.

It could have the benefit of further improving livelihoods, because the lease payments are not very high in absolute terms. While discussing the alternative lease payment structure, an employee of an affiliated organisation explained:

…when you look at it as they say "conservancies in the Mara paid $4million or $5million in lease payments for one year" and then you divide it by the landowners or the number of households in the Mara, I mean, it's nothing…

This figure is further divided per month, which must provide for households with large families, as the informant explained that the average family in the Mara is around 10 people. One landowner mentioned that the highest lease he had heard of, from one of the larger conservancies, was 26,000 shillings, around $241 per month at the time of writing. It is important to remember that most landowners have other sources of income in addition to the lease payments, but in order to secure the conservancy model, the lease payment should be competitive with other land use practices as mentioned above.

The alternative payment structure would require higher levels of transparency from the tourism partners, but it would also require the stakeholders to agree upon an equitable fixed minimum in order to ensure buy in from the landowners. Although it would increase operational and adminis- trative costs, it could have the added advantage of influencing behaviour change in community members because they would have a vested interest in ensuring the tourism business does well.

For example, Andreas Fox, a tour operator who has been working in the Mara for several years explained that “community members might be a little bit more invested in making sure the tourists are welcomed and ways to market themselves better, perhaps, rather than just resting on laurels that we're going to get a finite amount of income no matter how good or bad tourism does”

The fixed minimum in the alternative payment structure would still need to be competitive with other land use practices in order to mitigate the risk of withdrawal, a risk which has been empha- sized by the pandemic (Chapter 6). Kasmira Cockerill, who has worked closely with MMWCA since its establishment, explains:

The problem isn't that we don't have enough revenue generation. I think the problem is we don't have transparency and clear structures around what can really be generated in terms of revenue and how that is distributed.

Increasing transparency would help to mitigate concerns around land lease payments because it

would increase trust between the stakeholders. It can be incorporated into the various conservancy

management structures, depending on the design and needs of each entity. And with MMWCA’s

active role in establishing new conservancies, these kinds of governance aspects can be designed

in from inception. Of high priority, however, is to ensure that the existing leases are renewed, some

of which were done in 2018 for an additional 25 years, while others were renewed for shorter

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periods. For example, one landowner explained that they were keen to renew their lease with the conservancy because they were satisfied with the benefits they negotiated:

And actually, we sign a lease of 12 years and it has gone until the lease ended or terminated in 2018. That is when actually we came again, have talk, seen the benefit of conservation … And we have got to, we have sign a new contract for 15 years now and it is now a third year since it is new sign.

The likelihood of some landowners being content with the model while others are not, is inevitable because each individual has different commitments and activities inside and outside the model.

Trade-offs therefore have to be made between how many people are benefitting versus the amount of benefits they receive. Some conservancies are experimenting with alternative structures around governance and payments, which could potentially address this issue. These will be reviewed fur- ther on.

Other Benefits

Rotational grazing schemes are another common initiative across several conservancies. Mixed land use practices are a shift from the traditional fortress conservation which promoted the total separation of wildlife and humans. The lands in the conservancies act as “grass banks” whereby:

…as members of the conservancies you are allowed to drive in your livestock but it's man- aged in different zones within the conservancy. So, it's a professional sort of grazing man- agement system that conservancies practice and that's a very big benefit for pastoralists, sometimes even bigger than the lease fees.

It “can prove to be really useful additional financial tool to the communities who graze cattle on that land”, according to experienced luxury tour operator Andreas Fox, because it enables cow fattening whilst simultaneously providing an ideal landscape for herbivores which prefer shorter grass. It also has the benefit of improving soil and habitat quality, thereby increasing the value of the land. Some conservancies do not allow rotational grazing such as Ol Kinyei, which has a resi- dent wildebeest population that keeps the grass short throughout the year. However, being a pas- toral society, some Maasai interviewees believe that the ability to graze their cattle is almost as important as the monetary gain from the lease payments. This means that there are many conflicts surrounding the rotational grazing scheme, which will be discussed in Chapter 5.

Another prominent benefit to conservancy members is priority employment for landowners and their children. The tourism industry provides a majority of employment for the Maasai community, where landowners and their children are given priority in recruitment by camps and conservancy operations roles. This promise encourages the Maasai to gain skills or education in related fields such as guiding and hospitality. But it is also beneficial to community members who have not had adequate education to qualify them for employment outside the area, as explained by a camp em- ployee:

And most of the people they have not went to school but they are still getting jobs from the conservancies… because there is some of the training that they can offer like to be a waiter, to be a security guard, working in a kitchen like in a wash up... you can get a job like that, but hardly to get from somewhere apart from these conservancies who have small camps like this.

According to non-Maasai employees and camp owners, there are challenges that come with the

priority that is given to landowners in terms of employment. A common narrative was that this

policy complicates the relationship between management and employees because it is viewed by

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landowners as their right, rather than a position in which they must prove their capability and willingness to improve conservancy operations. The manager of a conservancy explained:

…that's a challenge because, if we hire them, they don't do a good job and then we have to let them go so that we get somebody that can do the job that we need done, there's a lot of backlash within the community [saying] you can't fire them.

The preferential employment of landowners and their children has also led to a saturation of em- ployable people, which could prove problematic considering the conservancies’ desire to remain exclusive, which restricts the number of camps and tourism operators. It also limits the kinds of jobs they can apply for, and adds to the over-reliance on tourism as a source of income. This will be discussed in detail in Chapter 6.

On the other hand, some tourism partners offer opportunities for personal and professional devel- opment. For example, many employees of Ol Kinyei Conservancy, which is managed by a single tourism partner, have risen through the ranks as the company sponsors education and training for its staff:

So, I'm a Silver guide at the moment and […] I've really enjoy working with [them] because in every single time, when you do your level, they will promote you with something and increase you some little amount of money for you to sustain your family and all that. (Con- servancy member and camp employee)

I'm trusted to work in the kitchen, the company will just take me to the training and college and then from now, I'm the chef. I'm the head chef of this camp (Non-member and camp employee)

The above excerpts indicate the sense of loyalty felt by some employees towards the conservancy model because it has directly improved their standard of living by providing the opportunity to develop professional skills. The second interviewee, in particular, explained that he did not have formal education before he started working as a dishwasher in one of the camps and is now very proud to be the Head Chef. He also mentioned that he loves cooking for his children when he is at home, because Maasai men do not usually cook so it makes them very happy that their father is different. Aside from direct monetary income, these kinds of benefits increase social standing and self-esteem because the employees are able to support their families. It is important to remember, however, that each conservancy operates differently. There may be some landowners and employ- ees that do not feel as positively about their relationship with their conservancy management, and vice versa.

An additional benefit is the bursary endowment for school fees. The bursary is calculated depend- ing on the level of education, with university students being given the highest bursary, followed by secondary school and then primary school. Some conservancies pay the bursary directly, while others deduct it from the lease payment and add it to a kitty which is distributed between members.

However, many informants expressed that it is an important benefit because although primary and secondary school education is free in Kenya, there are many associated costs. One informant grew up in Maasailand and returned to the region after her university education to work at a local de- velopment NGO. She explained that despite school attendance being mandatory, many Maasai families don’t send their children to school because of these costs:

…there are reading materials, school shopping that include basic items needed by the child that are not being offered by the government. Summing up the school materials adds up to the same amount that one needs to send a kid to school. The sum roughly is above 10,000Kshs and not less than 5000Kshs.

The sensitivity of the Maasai Mara Conservancy Model to external shocks

Shreya Chakrabarti