Bulbous clouds darken the sky and a dusting of tropical leaves and fruits drifts downward from the canopy as our vehicle careens down the wide, red dirt road. Our driver Miki accelerates around a curve even as the passengers in the flat bed are jolted up and down like kernels of popcorn in a hot pan.The windshield view of gathering thunderheads paired with the bumping, thumping thrill ride brings to mind foolhardy tornado chasers.
It may be the rainy season – in a rainforest – but an oncoming storm has the power to spook and alarm Gabonese folks. “C’est la bonne chance,” says Miki, referring to our fortunate timing in completing the day’s fieldwork on a research transect just before the rains arrive. We are inside the Wang Chuan Timber Sarl, a Chinese logging concession in Gabon’s forested interior. My husband Cooper and I are studying the ecological relationships between plants and animals in tropical forests. The research will form the basis of Cooper’s doctoral dissertation, and I am delighted to be along for the ride.
He is interested in the ways in which human influences such as hunting, logging and other extractive industries change animal communities, which in turn affects plant-animal interactions and the ways the forest regenerates. We have set up seed predation experiments in tropical forest sites ranging from pristine – deep in the heart of Ivindo National Park – to the highly impacted forest of the logging concession.
At the company’s headquarters near the entrance to the concession, we see heavy machinery and pile upon pile of gargantuan felled trunks. A group of Chinese migrant workers jogs towards neatly arrayed dormitories, clutching straw hats to their heads in the gathering wind.
The late President Omar Bongo drew international accolades from conservation advocates when, in 2002, he designated 13 national parks – 11% of Gabon’s landmass – as protected sites. But nurturing Gabon’s biodiversity and protecting its wild places will require creative partnerships between government, NGOs and industries.
As we roar down an even bumpier track beyond the concession, fat drops begin to hit the earth, gushing rapidly into long-eroded channels that twist through the track. Women hustle along the margins, the bundles of cassava root strapped to their backs diverting the first of the rains. And in this moment, the natural world reigns once again.
The Guardian Weekly regularly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Please send them to weekly.letters@theguardian.com
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