LOCATIONS

Masquerading as a tourist camera, the stealthy SLR of the environmental-activist photographer documents the byproducts of wholesale wildlife slaughter and incarceration that are on display in the markets of Southeast Asia.

The demand for bear bile is the impetus for large-scale businesses, where bears are captured, caged and “milked” regularly through permanent catheters. When the glands fail, the bears are killed for meat.

You could say that the thread for this rambling article began while on an East African safari in 1988 when I first met Karl Ammann. I had checked into the hotel in Nairobi and there was a message saying that he wanted to meet. Since the hotel was purportedly owned by a Saudi arms dealer and businessman, the natural word association that came to mind was with Amman, as in Jordan, leaving me wondering what this could possibly be about. (I later learned that it’s a common Swiss surname with root in a feudal, administrative and/or gubernatorial title.)

Karl had found out that the editor of Outdoor Photographer was coming to Kenya. By way of a hospitality degree from Cornell University, a stint as a hotel manager near the pyramids in Cairo, then the Nairobi Intercontinental, then the Mount Kenya Safari Club, a year living in a tent in the Mara, and development of the first “luxury tent camp,” Karl had also become an avid photographer. Who wouldn’t in these surroundings? But what always has impressed me was how he had a knack for knowing people, knowing what’s going on. His connections, acumen and mobility make him a more potent environmental photographer. The fact that he found me was an example only significant to me. But the fact that he knew everyone from Mobutu’s son (to grease a gorilla camp deal in Zaire) to Richard Leakey, Jane Goodall, the Maharaja of Jodhpur and the publisher of Insight Guides, to name a few, always has been intriguing. And then there are the attributes that could be considered political-correctness contradictions to outsiders: he has kept pet cheetahs and chimpanzees, yet is one of the most vocal animal protectionists that I know, a veritable burr under the saddle of many NGOs and do-nothing environmental causes.

From his home near Mount Kenya, his primary attentions have been focused on the bushmeat and captive animal trade in West and Central Africa, the destruction of orangutan habitat in Borneo and elephant slavery in Myanmar (Burma). He has published books, contributed magazine articles, spoke at NGO meetings in Europe, set up a chimpanzee sanctuary in Kenya and more. There are those environmentalists, researchers and photographers who would say that Karl is too caustic, too abrasive, that you have to work carefully with despots in deteriorating countries or “they’ll throw the lot of us out and then where would we be?” When Karl once asked me to join him on a trip to West Africa, a National Geographic photographer friend said to me, “It could be dangerous. One day he’s going to get himself killed.” Karl would argue that we can’t wait for soft-peddled diplomacy. It’s all going to hell too fast to wait on the whims of dictators or for corrupt officials to be cajoled into having an environmental conscience. He has seen too many African and Asian officials give lip service to protectionism or set up national parks, only to covertly sell concessions or conveniently overlook incursions by exploiters.

The markets of Myanmar, from Tachilek on the Thai border to Mong La near China, display an alarming array of wildlife products. Most of it finds its way north to China, where the demand is great for traditional cures. The impact of exploding human populations, with newfound affluence, is devastating on fragile wildlife populations that can’t withstand the onslaught. As a casual tourist, access is easy, but taking photographs attracts unwanted attention, perhaps a hand in front of the lens. A super-wide-angle, even a fisheye, makes it possible to shoot from the hip.