Angela Formia

An oily mess

2004-03-15T17:16:52Z

Working in the Gulf of Guinea in the last few years, oil issues have become increasingly difficult to ignore. The area is seeing a huge boom in oil discoveries and exploitation of what I am told are hefty reserves. My favorite green turtle feeding ground is in Equatorial Guinea, a tiny country almost nobody has ever heard of, sandwiched between Cameroon and Gabon, that has become the third biggest oil producer in Africa, after Nigeria and Angola, and one of the fastest growing economies in the world since the late 90s. US interest (given the mess in the Middle East) has slowly but surely shifted toward the region and, lo and behold, the companies drilling away in Eq Guinea are� you guessed it, from Texas! Unfortunately, I have a sneaking suspicion the environment may not be too high on the PR agenda of Bush�s oil cronies. What�s also not on their agenda is the situation beyond the platforms and compounds, where, by the way, they have more security and barbed wire than Fort Knox. But outside, their main accomplishment to date has been skyrocketing tensions. Alleged coup attempts are the order of the day, including one over the weekend that has featured prominently in the world media. Plus, a border dispute with neighboring Gabon over an oil-rich region could well escalate from diplomatic bickering and patrolling warships, given the hugely powerful competing interests. Maddeningly enough, this oil-rich border region also happens to be� indeed, my favorite feeding ground! So, now I�m moping around and wondering what the future holds for my favorite population (which, by the way, welcomes distinguished visitors from Ascension and rookeries in the Western Atlantic and Indian Ocean, as well as local East Atlantic turtles). Should I resign to it being punctured like a colander by oil drills and the greens becoming blacks from oil pollution? Or can the oil companies be �encouraged� to develop a conscience? They won�t actually not drill, that�s too much to ask� but is there such a thing as environmentally friendly drilling? Won�t economic development and �progress� bring nothing but the environmental disasters it�s brought to the so called �developed� world? Will the local people stop hunting turtles, get jobs on the oil rigs, happily give up turtle meat, yet preserving their traditional values? Will the environment ministry actually be able to enforce the protected area status of the site? Or should I stop dreaming and give up on the poor critters and the lost cause? Maybe my efforts would be better spent elsewhere, where there�s a flicker of hope� (I haven�t even mentioned a couple of other non-oil-related threats� but that�s another long story, for another blog). The thing is, I�ve become sentimentally attached to this place, its beautiful clear waters and white sandy beaches, its fat healthy turtles, its kind and friendly people� na�ve creature that I am, I�d rather not see it become an oily mess!!!

What Rubbish!

2003-06-04T18:07:39Z

A friend of mine laughed at me today because I had my lunch in a flimsy little bag that was originally the wrapper for the plastic recycling bags used here in Cardiff. She said that was the ultimate in recycling. Actually though, I think my sister is the ultimate recycler. When we were kids I remember her having an argument with my parents because she somewhat illogically refused to leave a banana peel in a field where we were having a picnic, and held onto it all the way during the subsequent long, hot car journey home. In many of the African countries I visited during my fieldwork there was little evidence of waste disposal systems, no rubbish trucks zooming around in the morning to collect tidy black bags for the landfill or incinerator, and certainly no sign of recycling schemes. Sometimes there were Everest-sized mountains of garbage, often smack in the middle of cities, smelly and smouldering under the tropical sun, dotted with scavenging humans and animals, and maybe even a certain sea turtle researcher looking for discarded carapaces (and dodging rats the size of dogs!). Once, I was on a remote, unspoiled beach in Equatorial Guinea with a local field assistant- even the currents hadn�t accumulated any debris on the spotlessly white sand - and I was happily admiring the scenery. We ate bread and sardines while waiting for the boat to pick us up after a night of patrolling, but when my assistant dumped the sardine can under a palm tree the idyllic scene unravelled... I started babbling about how we shouldn�t spoil this beautiful spot, that we should bring home the tin and dispose of it in the city, why leave traces of civilization everywhere humans go? He argued back that it was perfectly fine there, where nobody would see it (other than the next batch of sea turtle researchers probably�) and that it was not good to bring it back to the city where there were so many people, and already too much garbage piling higher every day� plus, all his fellow citizens would probably agree with him� and I was utterly crazy (he implied)! That left me speechless� is a thin evenly spread layer better than a few big piles? In a city with no electricity or running water, waste disposal is not really a priority, and environmental awareness pretty low on the government agenda, the possibility of contaminating natural resources ignored even by my enlightened turtle assistant. Suddenly I wasn�t so sure I wanted (or could) change his mind. He has to live with an Everest of rubbish outside his front door and a city full of litter-bugs. I�m lucky; once I put out my rubbish or recycling on Tuesday nights in Cardiff, I never have to see it again, smell it, worry about it contaminating my drinking water or breeding vermin and disease, or even have to climb around it looking for carapaces� Anyway, I snuck the oily sardine tin in my bag� stinking it up for weeks thereafter!

People-watching

2003-05-28T18:46:19Z

Well, hello� here I am finally getting around to posting my first blog/ramble� it was written during a sleepless flight back from the symposium, ages ago! Finally, I thought I�d better go ahead and get it out of the way, before proceeding with some other less heavy and boring entries� so here goes!

]]> I was people-watching in Dubai airport on my way back from the symposium, utterly fascinated by the hundreds of nationalities, religions and cultures walking past me. More than in any other airport I�ve ever been through, Dubai assembles an astonishing mix of peoples from all over the world, blending Southeast Asia and India with the Middle East and Africa, with America, Australia and Europe. But the most striking and fascinating thing to watch were the women; their eyes, their clothes, their children, a glimpse into their way of life. The golden sparkle of bangles and necklaces, fine intricate embroideries, the shimmer of soft Indian saris, the vivid reds, blues and yellows of African clothes, the solid white or black Muslim veils, the amazingly complex henna patterns on hands and feet, the jeans and gore-tex of the backpackers�! Women pacing the airplane aisles in the middle of the night comforting wailing babies (keeping us all awake�), distributing food out of large carrier bags, chasing rowdy children in the departure lounge, gathering luggage, shopping, arguing, chatting, sleeping. It got me thinking about the women I met during my sea turtle sampling work in West Africa, how knowing them has affected me, changed my perceptions and pre-conceptions, how it has influenced my thoughts on sea turtle conservation. In Africa women do most of the physical work. They walk for miles with bundles of firewood, often carrying children strapped to their backs, they scrub laundry in the rivers, they cook, they tend the farmed patches in the forest, they sell products along the roads. My friend Angela lives on a little island 15 sq km in the middle of a green turtle feeding ground. She�s younger than me but looks years older. She runs a small guesthouse, cooks, cleans, farms, raises four children, has not left the island in years. Carlota is one of two wives of a taxi driver and shop owner. She alternates with the other wife to live a year in the city looking after the numerous children of both, and a year alone, tending the shop in a remote border post, near green turtle developmental habitat. In West Africa men fish, poach and slaughter turtles. But it is the women who cook turtle meat, it is they who take captured turtles from the beaches or ports to market, it is women tending the market-stalls selling meat and eggs, it is they making turtle products such as leatherback oil, it is women who shop for meals based on turtles. The toughness of their habits and attitudes can be a bit intimidating in a society where women have no real political power, but enormous social influence� Yet, do Angela, Carlota and myself really come from different planets? Are our concerns and priorities really that different? In our day-to-day life, yes, we�re light years apart. But, I�d like to think that for the long-term stuff, the issues that really matter, we�re not so different, that barriers were crossed and lasting bonds of friendship and respect established. Isn�t that what really counts in the end? Isn�t that what�s going to shift mountains? I don�t know if I have touched as many women as have touched me. I do know that for a few, sea turtles remind them of a nutcase who was running around collecting samples and saying turtles should be protected. And I am certain that much of the battle to save sea turtles in the region would be won if only these women were on our side. I think that, despite the enormous variety of backgrounds, the common theme of womanhood plays a major role in conservation and in our potential to improve the future. Women�s caring and nurturing instinct, the doggedness and stamina, the sacrifices, and not, least of all, women�s role in shaping the minds of their children, instilling morals, guiding steps, even that subtle (or not) manipulation of men which women sometimes resort to� a sea turtles� goldmine!