He once roamed the wild of Zimbabwe, hunting its creatures for meat and income. Now, Tembanechako Mastick stands as a beacon of change, promoting conservation and urging his community to think beyond short-term gain.
Mastick, 47, lives in Chiredzi, Zimbabwe—a place steeped in wildlife and yet plagued by poverty. After serving nearly three months in jail for poaching small game, he transformed his life through the very programs aimed at rehabilitating former poachers like him.
"They are probably gone from here, but not far because they see plenty of food in this area," Mastick observed, peering cautiously at the hyena den during a recent outing with peers. His past involvement with poaching, fueled by the dwindling viability of farming due to climate challenges, now fuels his passionate advocacy against killing wildlife.
Previously, poaching seemed like the only option for survival as droughts ravaged crops and livestock became the sole means of sustenance. Surprisingly, his experience as a former hunter now lends him credibility as he speaks to the villagers about preserving nature and benefiting from it sustainably.
"I began to realize animals are for the benefit of the entire community, so poaching is really a selfish act," Mastick said. His words hold considerable weight; instead of taking one zebra for immediate gain, he explains how the influx of tourists seeking to see these animals can generate much more income for the entire community.
Conflicts between humans and wildlife are growing, driven by habitat loss and desperate attempts to farm on increasingly scarce land. The local wildlife, including elephants and big cats, inadvertently threatens the farmers' livestock and gardens, making the incentive to kill them stronger.
That stark reality is reflected across southern Africa, where the struggle to bridge the gap between human needs and animal conservation intensifies. "Fencing for livestock is rudimentary," Mastick noted, elaborately describing how locals try to protect their animals with makeshift barriers made from tree branches and thorny bushes.
The Zimbabwe Parks Agency described receiving thousands of distress calls from communities struggling with wildlife intrusion—up from only 900 annually just six years ago. Amid such alarming statistics, Mastick’s message of coexistence rings louder than ever.
He recalls earlier days when the balance between humans and wildlife was maintained: "Before the 2000 land reform, we barely had altercations with lions. Wildlife was abundant, and we were able to live side by side without conflict."
That balance shifted dramatically when land reform led to human settlements encroaching on wildlife territories. Save Valley Conservancy has reported losing over 30% of its wildlife habitat as farming plots consume land once home to dozens of animal species.
Compounding the issue, years of drought have withered grasslands and forests, forcing wild animals to seek sustenance from depleted resources, often competing directly with villagers. "All resources are scarce, so we have to compete with animals for those resources," Dingani Masuku, community liaison at Save Valley Conservancy, explained.
Through his own hardships—having lost livestock and endured physical scars from animal encounters—Mastick understands the pain of the villagers. Despite losing many goats to predators, he challenges others to view beasts not as enemies but as potential allies.
"With agriculture failing, people turn to livestock to survive, and their anger is justified!" he shared at his home, modest yet bursting with life. Yet, he pleads, “I help them understand killing animals is not the solution.”
Mastick's efforts also include teaching skills learned during his imprisonment, such as carpentry. With tree branches and palm leaves, he crafts furniture that's gained popularity among locals and tourists alike.
The workshop operates as more than just a place for profit; it serves as Mastick's platform to advocate for the environment. He frequently shares his message at funeral gatherings and community meetings, hoping to redefine perspectives.
Masuku has recognized Mastick’s remarkable influence, stating, "People know he’s been through it and understands first-hand the consequences of poaching. His transition to carpentry shows others they can depend on alternate sources of income."
While concrete statistics on poaching remain elusive, Mastick confidently asserts there has been noticeable decline among local poachers. His efforts are drawing recognition, and there’s optimism about the possibility of restoring balance with nature.
The long-term sustainability of not only wildlife but also the lives of the people within these drought-stricken regions depends on the actions they take today. Mastick’s determined efforts shine as hope for those longing to coexist with the natural world, pointing toward the direction of conservation as a path to prosperity.
Passionate narratives like his ripple through communities like Chiredzi, promoting conservation as not just idealistic thinking but rather as viable living. This reality begins to alter lives, uniting human and animal inhabitants against the backdrop of Zimbabwe’s breathtaking wilds.
Tembanechako Mastick embodies the spirit of positive change; through trials, redemption, and newfound purpose, he preaches toward uncharted futures where both wildlife and communities can thrive together. Understanding the interconnections among them, he envisions what can be—transforming the narrative of poaching to one of preservation.
