In the rolling hills of Taita Taveta in southern Kenya, a quiet battle plays out every year between some of Africa’s largest land mammals and the hardworking farmers who call this landscape home. Elephants, majestic and ancient creatures, have long roamed these mountainous regions, following migratory routes etched into memory over generations. Yet, as their numbers recover thanks to conservation efforts and as human settlements expand, the age-old paths of these giants increasingly intersect with fields of maize, cassava, and other crops—leading to a cycle of conflict, adaptation, and, sometimes, tragedy.
“One time, I was trying to chase away an elephant that was in my maize field, but it turned and charged me,” recalls Richard Shika, a 68-year-old farmer whose land sits almost surrounded by Kenya’s largest wildlife sanctuaries, Tsavo East and Tsavo West National Parks. “It stopped when it was right in front of me, and I managed to jump out of the way.” Shika counts himself lucky; others have not been so fortunate. According to local media cited by The Hans India, almost exactly two years ago, a three-year-old girl was trampled to death by an elephant in Taita Taveta county, her mother left injured in the aftermath.
Kenya’s Tsavo National Park, which flanks Taita Taveta on nearly every side, is a vital sanctuary for elephants and other wildlife, with its borders left unfenced to allow for natural animal migration. But this openness is a double-edged sword. As noted by Yuka Luvonga, a researcher with the conservation organization Save The Elephants, “The places and infrastructure that we humans develop hinder the migratory routes and paths which elephants used to take.” When elephants, who can eat a staggering 150 kilograms (over 330 pounds) of vegetation a day, find their usual foraging grounds blocked or depleted, they turn to the nearest available food: farmers’ crops.
For decades, this has brought heartbreak and hardship to local families. “Over the years, the elephants have become too destructive,” says Getrude Jackim, a 70-year-old farmer who has tilled these lands for two decades. She remembers when she would plant maize, mung beans, pigeon peas, and cassava. But as the elephants’ raids became more frequent—especially between October and January, when the animals are most likely to invade—Jackim realized she had to change her approach. “Look at me, I’m aging, so I can’t fend off the elephants or chase them away,” she says.
The solution, for Jackim and nearly 100 other farmers in the region, has come in the form of a humble but potent crop: sesame. “The elephants can’t eat it because of its scent,” Jackim explains. Sesame plants emit a natural aroma that elephants actively dislike, making them a natural deterrent. With support from conservation groups, farmers have been encouraged to switch to sesame seed production, a move that has not only protected their livelihoods but also reduced the need for risky confrontations with the animals.
Not all farmers have turned to sesame. Richard Shika, for one, has embraced another ingenious solution: bees. “Elephants don’t like getting stung by bees, so they keep away from areas where hives are,” Shika tells The Hans India. With assistance from Save The Elephants, he and at least 50 other farmers have installed beehive fences—simple constructions of hives suspended on wires between poles around the perimeter of their fields. If an elephant tries to push through, the hives are jostled and the bees swarm, sending the would-be raider running.
The benefits extend beyond just security. “If the elephants raid my crops, at least I can get honey from the beehives. I can sell the honey,” Shika says. Between January and March, he harvested five kilograms of honey, and between April and June, another 24 kilograms. Altogether, he earned 32,000 Kenya shillings—about $246 USD—from his honey sales. “I can educate my children. Apart from just deterring elephants, we get honey from the beehives.”
These nature-based solutions have transformed the daily lives of many in Taita Taveta. Where once farmers like Shika resorted to flaming sticks and dogs—a dangerous and often futile tactic—now the buzz of bees and the scent of sesame help keep both crops and people safe. “Elephants are clever creatures,” Shika notes. “They will try touching a fence, and once they realize that it is not electrified, they charge through.” But with the beehive fences, the animals have learned to keep their distance.
Yet the challenge is far from over. Conservation efforts, which have successfully curbed poaching and allowed elephant populations to rebound, have also inadvertently intensified human-elephant conflict. As Yuka Luvonga points out, “When poaching was eradicated from the world map and considered illegal, that’s when the number of elephants started increasing again, and with that increase, we found that there was a spike in human-elephant conflict.” Human population growth and the expansion of infrastructure—roads, farms, settlements—continue to encroach on the ancient migratory corridors elephants rely on.
The consequences can be dire. The Kenya Wildlife Service estimates that 30 to 35 people are killed every year in elephant-related incidents across the country. In response, some communities have resorted to spearing or poisoning elephants, acts of retaliation that threaten the fragile balance between conservation and coexistence. Conservationists are now urging for more innovative, non-lethal methods to manage these conflicts, emphasizing the importance of changing community attitudes. “We have to live harmoniously with these elephants,” Luvonga says, “and to create awareness and sensitize the communities to change their attitudes towards the animals that we have.”
As World Elephant Day is marked on August 12, the story of Taita Taveta’s farmers stands as a testament to the power of adaptation and the promise of coexistence. By harnessing the natural aversions of elephants—whether through the sting of bees or the scent of sesame—communities are finding ways to protect their livelihoods without resorting to violence. It’s a delicate dance, one that requires patience, ingenuity, and a willingness to see the world through the eyes of both human and elephant.
In the end, the hope is that both can continue to thrive, side by side, on the vast and ancient plains of Kenya.
