From Clemson to Kenya Eric Reson M ’12 came of age in the iconic grasslands of Maasai Mara before earning a graduate degree at Clemson. The older he grew, the more he saw wildlife dwindling in his community. Now, Reson, alongside Clemson collaborators, serves as a conservation champion in support of the landscape he loves and the people like him who call it home.
Photography Georgina Goodwin
Eric Reson was 9 years old when a buffalo chased him up a tree. Over a cold, long night, he sought refuge in its branches, the husky animal waiting below. It was just another day in the savannah for the young Maasai herder, who guided livestock to fresh water and grass daily, protecting them from wildlife like buffalo, elephants — even lions.
“Typically, for a young Maasai boy, the main responsibility is herding,” Reson explains before delving into tales of close encounters in the Maasai Mara. Since then, Reson has traveled the world in pursuit of education, but he’s never strayed far from his youth or the lessons it afforded, even when he arrived at Clemson University in 2010 to earn his master’s degree. Rather, his upbringing fuels his life’s work because it’s something the next generation of Maasai may never experience.
Named in honor of the Maasai people, the Maasai Mara is an expansive grassland covering nearly 2,300 square miles in southern Kenya. Together with the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania, it’s home to Africa’s most diverse ecosystem, including hippos and giraffes, zebras, large cats and gazelle. Reson was born into Maasai tradition, traveling the vast landscape, rearing livestock and encountering the vast wild.
“I grew up in a nomadic lifestyle and would miss school because the family would relocate to another place in search for pasture and water for livestock,” he explains before sharing a story from when he was 6 years old.
“One day, we were moving, and I had to walk in front because little boys were taught to be strong and tough,” he shares. “And then I found a leopard on the road. I turned back, grabbed my sister — who was barely 4 — and I called to my mother, ‘Mom, I don’t know what this is. There’s something here that looks like a cat, but it’s big!’”
His mother, trailing behind them and carrying their belongings in a hide, caught up to her children and dropped the parcel. She then swiftly beat a stick against it, scaring the large predator away.
Throughout our conversations, Reson never calls his experiences in the wild savannah of southern Kenya dangerous, but he does say the cold in Clemson is dangerous for a native Maasai like himself. The first time the conservationist left home and boarded a plane, he was traveling from Suswa, Narok, to Clemson to earn his Master of Science in wildlife and fisheries biology. It was January and snowing — a stark contrast to his home that hosts a third of Kenya’s wildlife.
“When we were growing up, there was wildlife everywhere, and in so many volumes,” Reson says.
“It was a really good life,” he adds.
Over the years, the landscape of Reson’s childhood has drastically changed. Fences block wildlife access to water, grazing and hunting areas. Barbed wire cuts into the flesh of migrating and foraging animals. Increasing settlements encroach on wildlife habitats. And the Maasai Mara National Reserve, a dedicated wildlife sanctuary, only does so much.
Fortunately, Reson and efforts set into motion by the Maasai Mara Wildlife Conservancies Association are determined to help save the landscape the Maasai call home. A memo of understanding between the County of Narok, Clemson and Maasai University also fuels these efforts.
SIGNS OF LOSS
Established in 1961, the Maasai Mara National Reserve covers 583 square miles and is about 25 percent of the larger Maasai Mara ecosystem. Beyond the reserve, the Land Adjudication and Group Ranch Act of 1968 divided the remaining ecosystem into individual parcels. Under private ownership, much of the land people, livestock and wildlife once freely roamed has been turned into settlements and agricultural fields.
Wildlife has gravely suffered the consequences. Reson says that in the last 40 years, the region has lost over 60 percent of its wildlife, with some species, like vultures, severely affected. For Reson, the loss is apparent in more than numbers. It’s in empty skies and grasslands and mere memories of wild dogs and gazelle that used to roam his village.
Other Maasai people have also witnessed the devastating loss. In master’s research Reson conducted as a Clemson student, a young Maasai warrior asked him about the visible decline of wildlife. When prompted to identify a vulture shown in a picture, the warrior asked Reson, “Where did this vulture go? I have not seen it in over a decade.”
Although the national reserve is a dedicated wildlife sanctuary, it doesn’t cover the entire landscape where the animals live, feed and drink. A whopping 65 percent of wildlife live outside the national reserve and interact with communities. “Elephants eat about 172 species of plants distributed across the landscape,” Reson explains. “You will lose forage for an elephant if you are not looking at a securing habitat in a landscape scale.”
Without interventions aimed at the entire landscape, the Maasai Mara ecosystem has lost an annual migration pattern. Each year, hundreds of thousands of zebras and gazelle join millions of wildebeest to migrate from Serengeti, Tanzania, to Maasai Mara in what is known as the Great Migration. Like clockwork, the wild animals pursue water and grass that ebbs and flows with cyclical rains.
“We used to have two migration patterns here: one that goes south to the Serengeti across the Mara River, and then, at the same time, there was a northern migration that goes up north to a place called the Loita Plains,” Reson says.
“That Loita Plain Migration has disappeared completely.”
The annual migrations, popularized by the likes of National Geographic and deemed one of the Eight Wonders of the World by USA Today, attract heaps of tourists eager to spectate the natural phenomenon.
But the migrations are much more than a sight to see. As migrating animals graze, they maintain grass length. As they traverse grassland, they fertilize and turn soil, reducing fuel for wildfires and creating conditions for new life to grow. They also feed predators, ensuring ample food for hungry lions, cheetahs and leopards.
In turn, predators have food — and leave Maasai people and their livestock alone. Until recently.
With more settlements and less access to food and water, predators have begun to kill livestock and raid villages. Human and wildlife conflicts have since escalated. And the savannah and its stewards have faced grave loss.
Clemson Roots
Reson is not the only Maasai person who has left home to study at Clemson. Rather, his journey is indicative of a partnership between Clemson and Maasai Mara universities that spans more than 20 years. Decades ago, a member of their villages traveled to Clemson as part of an international convoy. Clemson professors were later invited to Maasai Mara University.
“There was a group of professors who were invited, and they came over to Kenya,” Reson says.
The Department of Parks, Recreation and Tourism Management at Clemson is internationally recognized for its reach into conservation and tourism efforts through its collaborations with the Department of Forestry and Environmental Conservation. When tourism revenue depends on wildlife, as it does in Africa, wildlife populations must be protected through sustainable tourism and conservation areas.
Partnerships between the two departments, plus the interdisciplinary Clemson Institute for Parks, allow this type of research.
“There’s very few programs like ours,” says Lawrence Allen, dean emeritus and professor of parks, recreation and tourism management at Clemson. “Very few programs combine (parks, recreation and tourism).”
Allen was one of those professors invited to Maasai Mara University back in 2010, and by 2013, Allen helped initiate the international memorandum of understanding between Clemson, Narok County and Maasai Mara University. The MOU, which outlines a shared commitment to research and education between the universities, is still in effect today. And Allen has returned to the Mara nearly 30 times, dedicating his career to the region.
When asked why, Allen speaks about the wildlife with profound reverence. “I get goosebumps still. When I go out there and I see, you know, lions or cheetahs or leopards … it’s still incredibly exciting. And I see the value of what we’re doing every time I got out there. … I tell everybody, if you go to Africa, it’s life-changing.”
Allen also speaks of the Maasai people with utmost respect.
“The people are fantastic,” Allen says. “They’re wonderful, wonderful people.”
In 2010, former Clemson faculty member William Bowerman was also invited to collaborate with scholars and students at Maasai Mara University. When the professor of wildlife biology met Reson, who was then working at the African Wildlife Foundation, he encouraged Reson to study at Clemson.
“That was the beginning of another whole life for me,” Reson reflects.
A VICIOUS CYCLE
Prior to changes in land use and culture, Maasai people, livestock and wildlife lived together in peace. Predators rarely killed cattle, and when they did, it was seen as a sign of good fortune. Now, in stark contrast with tradition, Maasai people have begun to retaliate against incidents formerly viewed as good omens.
While a Clemson student, Reson sought to understand Maasai attitudes toward vultures, including their understanding of poisoning incidents and the declining population. Growing up, vultures were abundant and part of the Maasai culture. Now, Reson hasn’t seen an Egyptian vulture, one of the eight vulture species in the region, in 15 years.
“The population of vultures is crashing because of human-wildlife conflict,” Reson explains. “Lions and hyenas and other carnivores kill Maasai livestock, and then the Maasai will go out to retaliate.”
The Maasai retaliate against increased predator attacks by smearing poison onto carcasses found in the wild. The predators then return to their kill, feasting on the poisoned meat. Once the predators finish, the vultures pick the bones clean, working in groups of 100 to 200 birds. The entire group then dies after consuming a poisoned carcass.
“Vultures become victims,” Reson laments.
The loss of vultures is another loss of a vital component of the ecosystem. Each year, vultures clear an estimated 100,000 pounds of carcasses. By clearing carcasses, they prevent the spread of disease. Vultures reproduce slowly, laying only one egg per year. Unlike other scavengers, vultures struggle to recover from population loss.
Poisoning predators is not a traditional practice, but it’s hard to see fortune when loss is frequent. Maasai tolerance has wavered as wildlife raids have steadily increased. People, livestock and wildlife battle over access to food, water and land. In this battle, the entire ecology — livestock, people, wildlife, land — is losing. It’s a vicious cycle.
As Reson approached graduation, Bowerman wanted him to pursue a Ph.D. at Clemson. But Reson said Bowerman and Allen, another of Reson’s mentors, understood the environmental crisis in Kenya “required our immediate attention.”
The crisis required Reson to return home.
RETURNING HOME
After earning his master’s degree in 2012, Reson set out to join other dedicated individuals in their mission to save the Maasai Mara ecosystem. He was employed by Maasai Mara Wildlife Conservancies Association, helping to develop a plan and policy focused on saving the entire ecosystem through community-owned conservancies.
“When I went back after my graduation, one of the biggest challenges we had with our policy and government was that our policy, our wildlife management policy, was so focused on government-protected areas,” Reson says.
“And so, we changed the laws,” Reson, now chief programs officer at the MMWCA, says proudly.
The Wildlife Conservation Management Act of 2013, established the same year as the MMWCA, allows local communities to safeguard and manage wildlife by establishing their own protected areas. The MMWCA, in turn, works with communities, helping them establish conservancies and leveraging the conservancies as agents of economic, social and ecological transformation.
Under this model, everyone benefits. Maasai people lease land to tourism investors who establish high-end, sustainable tourism facilities. Partners and conservancies employ community members as safari guides and rangers, boosting local livelihood and connections with wildlife. And investors split the revenue with landowners who own individual plots of protected area that can be neither sold nor bought.
Over the years, Reson’s advocacy and research have helped grow the number of conservancies in the Maasai Mara from eight to 24. Together, the conservancies cover over 700 square miles and offer 49 high-end facilities dedicated to conservation through sustainable tourism. Each conservancy is unique and protects wildlife within its geographic area. Wildlife populations that were declining are now beginning to stabilize. It’s been a resounding success.
“The reason we are able to do these transformational changes is because the organization is owned by the community — because we understand the culture and aspiration of communities,” Reson says.
For Reson, saving Mara wildlife and Maasai culture go hand in hand. His quest to convince communities to buy into the conservancy model is also a quest to return tradition to the Maasai people.
“When you talk about conservation, it’s not new,” Reson says. “It’s just giving names to things that communities were doing.”
“There are species that are so sacred to us,” he adds.
In his role at the association, Reson oversees portfolios aimed at saving the ecosystem and restoring livelihood to the people. The breadth of his work is impressive, spanning from advocating for women’s rights to empowering communities politically to rewilding and opening migration patterns by encouraging landowners to remove their fences.
“We want to make sure to have a vibrant ecosystem that supports communities,” he says.
AN ONGOING MISSION
Throughout his life as a Maasai, Reson has been a herder and a warrior and is now proudly a junior elder. He started and is active in Vulture Protectors, a network of people across Kenya and Tanzania that directly responds to poisoning incidents by decontaminating carcasses.
He’s been named to the 2024 Explorers Club 50, an international organization recognizing 50 extraordinary people who promote science and exploration but remain out of the limelight. He’s pursuing his Ph.D. at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, and he’s dedicated his life to conservation, even living where he works at the MMWCA.
Still, Reson makes it a point to go home to his village, Suswa, every Friday to herd cattle, including his favorite cow, Mong’o, named for a tradition in which women toss the day’s first milk into the air.
“They have to throw it up and bless the sky, just to say thank you to God,” Reson shares.
“It’s so sacred, and it’s something you really value,” he adds. “You have to do that to tell God thank you — for giving me the cows and giving me this milk, giving me a life.”
When asked why Mong’o is his favorite cow, he laughs.
“I don’t know. I mean, there is just a weird connection. And she knows me. Every time I come to the village, she will just come and lick me,” he says.
As Reson returns to his village each Friday, he stays connected to his home and his culture. In yet another project, he’s working to archive stories and traditions of the Maasai with the aim of keeping them alive and well.
And on the other side of the globe in Clemson, the mission continues in earnest. Allen plans to return to the Mara in October to conduct further research about protected area management and sustainable tourism. Next summer, Clemson students will study giraffe ecology and conservation at the Maasai Mara National Reserve. Plans to update the MOU are underway, aiming to continue the shared goal of protecting and learning from the remarkable Maasai Mara ecosystem.
Incredible work has been accomplished, but much remains to be done. Together and apart, Reson and his colleagues are championing a diverse ecosystem, encouraging sustainable tourism and preserving a threatened culture. They expect to continue their work well into the future, revitalizing the health of a truly unique landscape so it might be explored, appreciated and inhabited for generations to come.
Charlotte Lucke Ph.D. ’22 is the managing editor of Clemson World magazine.
