Apocalypse Now
on Anthony Lovat in Bolgatanga (Ghana), 29/Nov/2010 11:51, 34 days ago
As I rode my motorbike over the brow of the hill, the night landscape before me was a scene from the apocalypse. The earth was ablaze. The roar of the fires near the road was frightening close. For as far as I could see in every direction, orange and yellow shone through the blackness. As the flames lit the sky, black kites could be seen in their hundreds, possibly thousands, circling the destruction, riding the thermals on outstretched wings and scanning the gloomy ground for fleeing prey. Their silhouettes like the shadows of ghosts against the dark sky. On the distant hills, fire ran like veins across the slopes, like rivers of light destroying all in their path. I passed a small abandoned hut. Flames gloriously danced around its shell. The grass roof had collapsed and the resulting blaze lit the small windows of the hut like demonic eyes. The roof beam was blackened, charred, scorched but stubbornly, perhaps heroically, remained in place. Elsewhere, the long dry grass easily succumbed to the inferno. The dusty harmattan wind beat the flames onward, encouraging them forward at an alarming speed. I watched the gloriously bright fountains of flame leaping from the ground to cling to the lower branches of a tree. The leaves glowed red, excited by their efforts. Some branches smouldered under the onslaught. The earth itself was aglow. The landscape lit from below. The ground had opened to the victorious hell fires. Where just a few hours earlier, browns and greens were washed in the evening sunlight under a blue sky, I now witnessed blackness lit by oranges, yellows and reds. The wide tarmac road cut through the apocalypse, I was safe from the primeval destruction around me like watching a hurricane from a bunker. I saw families taking shelter on the side of the road, their frightened faces lit by the flickering tongues of fire. Despite the heat, they held each other close. Despite the heat, shivers passed down my spine.I was just a few miles from home, returning after an evening with the GAST science teachers. This is the time of year that the bush is burned. It hasn’t rained at all since September and the desiccated grass is easily set alight by farmers and hunters in a terrible tradition.Laura’s veterinary colleagues all agree that the burning is too early and too much. The farmers believe that burning the grass encourages new growth for their animals but, with the next rain not due for another five or six months, the livestock are in for a long wait. The livestock could be grazing onthe dead dry grass but now that is gone. Some farmers are able to control the fires but most just burn wild. With the population of Ghana, and particularly the Upper East, higher than it has ever been, the fires are now lit across wider areas of savannah than ever before. Some fire is an inevitableand totally natural part of the cycle of ecological disturbance and succession but too much disturbance does not allow the establishment of some young saplings. Protected national parks in the savannah areas of Ghana such as Gbele and Mole contain far more trees, as do less populated areas such as the Upper West and parts of the Northern Region. Much of the Upper East is devoid of trees due to deforestation and, perhaps more importantly, the overuse of fire. Burning also leaves the soil exposed. With the harmattan winds just starting, fertile topsoil can be lifted away, accelerating desertification.Human beings are a part of many ecosystems. Upland heather moorlands of Britain are only maintained due to the burning of the heather every five or six years– something that has been maintained for at least five thousand years. The giant destructive fires of southern Australia in recent years have been because the indigenous Aboriginal people have not been burning regularly and the dry matter has been allowed to build up. Some burning of the savannaharound Bolga is natural and the traditions of the local people have been part of this balance. What concerns me is that the population pressure is now so high relative to how it has been historically.Digging down through the layers of soil, one can take samples of sediment from different times– the deeper the sediment, the older the sample. Bush fires are recognisable in the soil sediment as layers of carbon and ash. Carbon-dating these sediments confirm that the incidence of bush fires has sharply increased towards the present day – correlating with the sharp increase in population.The fires I witnessed the other evening are not a balance of native tradition and Mother Nature; they are a result of too many people burning too much over too wide an area.Hunters burn the grass to flush out wild animals. Working in teams, I have been told that they start fires in giant rings that then burn inwards smaller and smaller, trapping the animals inside a fiery cage. Eventually the animals bolt into the open and can be easily shot down.It has been suggested that, in the cultural mindset of the people here in Northern Ghana, untamed forested lands are considered threatening and wild. Burning may be an attempt to domesticate the landscape. This could help explain why repeated attempts to try and convince local people to stop burning through education programmes have failed.There is strict legislation in place to prevent people from burning the bush but in such an open space and with such little money and manpower it is impossible to enforce.Riding back along the same road the following day, only scorched earth remained. A few goats scratched through the devastation. The birds of prey had moved on. There was no bird life to be seen. There was no sound but the wind. It kicked up the dusty soil and blew it across the road into my eyes and my lungs. I couldn’t help but breathe in the ash cloud. It hurt. A man rode past on a bicycle. The few scattered trees were blackened with soot. Burned leaves clung feebly to the remaining branches.Sometimes I just despair.