Conservation: A Love Story | Elsaphan Njora | TED

(Music) (Singing in Swahili) Hii safari ni ya mapenzi Nina haja ya kuenzi (Singing in English) Here’s my hand. Take me now. Don't resist. Don't ask me how. For the last three and a half years, I have travelled more than I have ever done in all my years. I have interacted with cultures, landscapes and legends across the land. And I've been enriched by these vast experiences that I'm so fortunate to have. So much so that some of my songs are starting to sound like travel journals. “Hii safari ni ya mapenzi” means “this journey is of love. ” From the crater in Silali to the springs at Mzima. The cool blue waters of Lake Challa to the sandy beaches of Robinson Island. The waterfalls at Ruskebe to the island of Sumba. The small elephants of Aberdares to the giants in Amboseli. The sometimes feisty buffaloes of Mount Kilimambogo to the lilac-breasted roller in the plains. The rivers, the valleys, the people. I am in awe of what this country has to offer. This wealth, this beauty is meant to be shared. It passed on. After all, we too found it here. And we are direct beneficiaries of the intentional or accidental conservation efforts of the past. The question is: What shall we leave for those who are coming after us? Allow me to take you on a journey. Let us start in a county called Nyahururu, in a peculiar water body called Lake Ol' Bolossat, which is both a salty and fresh water lake. It is possible that one day we might not have it anymore. Delaying to take measures to curb cultivation around riparian land near the lake will most certainly lead to its destruction. And in a few years time, it might as well never have existed. But a lake is not just a lake. Now let's go to Machakos County. The land of the long-distance traders. The flat landscape of enchantment and the crescendo music lovers. (Singing in Swahili) The home of the great seer who prophesied the coming of the British. And once home to a vast indigenous forest whose remnants can be found at Kiima Kimwe, which means "one hill. " There, at the sacred hill of the Akamba, you'll see there was evidence that this was a vast forest. However, Machakos today stands in contrast to what our ancestors once called home. Massive deforestation has transformed a large section of it into a semi-arid expanse where water is scarce. Now the forest and the legends, and the stories might as well never have existed. But the forest is not just a forest. These are ecosystems that support a great number of species from birds, land animals, fish, insects, plants, some of which are endemic to the area and serve as nature's order in the great equation of balance. The very same balance that we are here to discuss. But our farmers need land to till. And when we need wood, don't we? But pause. This is not a piece to patronize. Instead, it's to paint a picture of perhaps what could be possible if we took action, and to bear the news of the efforts that have been taken so far. The proverbial what if, but now with a motive to reconsider, reconfigure and recruit. What if there is another way to go about it? What if there's another way to coexist with nature, make a living and leave an inheritance for those who are coming after us? Let us go to Kilifi County, right next to the Indian Ocean. Somewhere at the shores of Watamu stands a testament of what could be if we reimagined conservation. A group called Dabaso, through research and collaboration, began planting mangroves 20 years ago in an effort to conserve. 20 years of insults and ridicule, doubts and second thoughts. But now the shores breathe more life into the world and give better sanctuary for sea life. And an establishment called Crab Shack Hotel

stands as a tourist attraction, a pillar of conservation and commerce, merging nature, community and profit in an eco-friendly existence. And back in Machakos, they are making better use of the land, and they are repopulating the indigenous seedlings. With the efforts of conservationists, we might just see the return of the trees of old. And at Lake Ol’ Bolossat they are resettling the farmers, and they are saving the lake. It is no longer a thing of what if. It's a possibility. We can save our ecosystems, our species and our futures. We can. The evidence is clear across the world. So what is taking us so long? I've never understood why it takes so much effort to do what we know we need to do. Maybe it is a human condition to procrastinate until it is too late in order to catch that edge, that elusive high of uncertainty, thinking we have some kind of control. Only problem is, there is no control. However, I believe that if we search deep inside for something bigger, something bigger than ourselves, then we light a fire that can take us all the way to a better world. Now I'm no expert, but I believe at the core of conservation is love. Love for the land, love for the people of the land and most importantly, love for those who will come after us. And with this, I think we can find a way to work together in a manner that will benefit nature and community, give honor and dignity. And so this journey has to be a journey of love. And while that may take longer, the effects are profound and far-reaching enough to keep the world breathing. Finally, let me complete this journey with imagination. I will ask you to indulge me. Close your eyes. I'm talking to you guys. Close your eyes. I want you to envision that place that you want transformed. Do you have it? So I want us to take this journey together. On the count of three, I want you to say it out loud. One. Two. Three. (Audience speaks) (Singing in Swahili) Hii safari ni ya mapenzi Nina haja ya kuenzi (Singing in English) Here’s my hand. Take me now. Don't resist. Don't ask me how. Ooh! I'm on fire for you. I'm on fire. (Applause)