“THIS is a perfect place for manatees,” says Lucy Keith-Diagne, squinting at a slow, muddy sweep of the Niandan river. It seems improbable: why would these lumbering aquatic mammals, also called sea cows, be living some 4000 kilometres up the Niger river in Guinea, almost as close to the Sahara desert as to the Atlantic Ocean? But as the world expert on African manatees, Keith-Diagne would know.
These chubby creatures are known to reside lower down the Niger river, which stretches like a giant boomerang through much of West Africa, and anecdotal evidence over the years has hinted at another population high up in tributaries near its source. What’s more, Keith-Diagne believes this group has been separated from other manatees for so long that its members could be evolving into a separate subspecies. “They went up the Niger. They found good stuff. They kept going. They never came back and they became different,” she says. But, for now, this is just a guess.
To find out more, we have driven hundreds of kilometres from Guinea’s swampy coast, over the highlands and down into the forested savannah in search of these elusive creatures. In a two-week expedition, Keith-Diagne and her team will interview locals, chase up any leads on recent sightings and look for telltale signs of feeding along riverbanks. Crucially, they will also collect samples of river water to examine later for traces of manatee DNA. Confirmation of such an isolated population here would be a major scientific discovery. It would also be the first step in protecting these rare animals from the growing threats posed by dam construction, and human encroachment.
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Myth of the mermaid
belong to an order of mammals called Sirenia, named for the . There are three species. The West Indian manatee is found along the south-east coast of the US, throughout most of the Caribbean and as far south as Brazil. The Amazonian manatee, classified as vulnerable, lives only in the Amazon river and its tributaries. The African manatee ranges for thousands of kilometres along the coast of West Africa, from Senegal to Angola, and is also and in the lower Niger river. It, too, is vulnerable, with an estimated 10,000 individuals only. Unlike its more famous American cousins, vanishingly little is known about this species.
“[Africa] is a black hole for manatee information,” says Keith-Diagne, an independent US scientist who has been based in Senegal for nearly two decades. That is partly due to the animals’ immense range across territory that is often inaccessible, but another problem is a dearth of local manatee experts. Keith-Diagne, who co-founded the , is trying to remedy this by training researchers in central and West Africa. However, in Guinea, where only the coast has been surveyed, there are no manatee experts. Instead, the rest of Keith-Diagne’s expedition team comprises Nyan Sangbe, a herpetologist specialising in crocodiles, snakes and turtles; Kolanga Camara, a botanist and ornithologist; Louise Haba, a geographer; and Antoine Claver Loua, a sociologist.
“The level of scientific research in Guinea has advanced in the past years, but it has been a long and difficult road,” says Sangbe, who is largely self-taught. “There are no resources. There are no research centres. No research tools. Frankly, we lack everything.” However, the team does have an invaluable skill: the ability to speak to villagers suspicious of outsiders in their own language. And now, after two years of planning, the researchers are finally beginning their search of an area that encompasses four high tributaries of the upper Niger: the Niandan, Milo, Sankarani and Tinkisso rivers.
Walking through a hand-tilled field carved out of the forest, Sangbe spots water through the trees. He shouts “Bingo!” and slides down a steep bank to the Niandan. Sangbe pulls a plastic water bottle out of his backpack and approaches the river’s edge. “Aren’t there hippos and crocodiles in there?” I ask. “Yes,” he says. Then he casually takes off his boots, steps in and plunges the bottle into the silty water. This sample will be (eDNA), genetic material from such things as the skin and faeces that all animals leave behind in their environment. “We’re at one of the furthest points that manatees could possibly come up a river in Africa,” says Keith-Diagne. “And we have just collected the first eDNA water samples anywhere in West Africa for manatees.”
Hydroelectric developments
We walk back up the slick trail from the Niandan to our trucks, which are parked at the entrance to the construction site of the Fomi dam. It is a new hydroelectric project, one of a growing number of infrastructure schemes in the region that will not only bring energy to local people, but also disruption to ecosystems and . Keith-Diagne has struggled to get details about the development from afar and is keen to see it for herself.
Read more: The sea cow with super-sensing hairs
Here, we meet Ibrahima Condé Kebre, a local hunter. Sangbe starts chatting with him – and again, bingo! “There are manatees here during the wet season,” says Condé Kebre. His sightings upriver from the dam confirm Keith-Diagne’s hopes, but also her fears. “We just found manatees in a river that nobody knew they were in before. But it’s also concerning because it turns out to be a river that they’re never going to be able to leave,” she says.
Another encounter isn’t as productive. We are at a regional government office for forests and wildlife, a mould-covered building tucked in an electric green forest of young teak trees. A poster on the wall shows species that are protected in Guinea, including its famed chimpanzees. The sign exhorts “don’t eat your brother”. Manatees should be included, but they aren’t. François Delamou, the office’s director, says he has never seen one, or even heard of them. “When you come, it is good, because we get information about what species are protected,” he says. But putting conservation into practice isn’t so simple, he adds. “The problem is changing people’s mentalities. People think with their bellies and not with their heads.”
Although the team has drawn a blank here, other interviews confirm a local awareness of manatees – and the value of conducting on-the-ground surveys. One comes after a long day spent tracking down travel permits and speaking to officials. We cross the Niger river on a ferry made from thick planks laid over handmade canoes called pirogues to reach a village where the chief has agreed to a meeting. After an hour of chat, the questioning finally comes around to manatees. The chief and other local fishers describe sightings of a large, grey, shy animal in nearby waters. They also tell us where it hangs out.
Every day, Keith-Diagne is getting more excited about what the team is discovering. But she is well aware that the interviews are subjective and concrete evidence is required to prove that manatees live here. “That’s why we have to do genetics,” she says.
When she started researching African manatees in 2006, all anyone knew was that there was a single species scattered across 21 countries. Genetic analysis of the few tissue samples Keith-Diagne has managed to collect reveals that African manatees 3 million to 5 million years ago. How the creatures, which are reliant on fresh water, swam across the Atlantic is a mystery. Her studies have also helped show that there are probably four subspecies of manatee in Africa. These include the Niger river population, of which the least is known and which Keith-Diagne thinks has long been separated from the wider African population.
Tissue samples are genetically revealing, but they are hard to obtain and export for analysis. That is why this expedition is . The new but fast-developing technique allows scientists to sample aquatic, terrestrial and aerial environments cheaply and non-invasively to confirm . “We don’t ever have to touch an animal,” says Keith-Diagne.
The power of eDNA
That evening, the researchers spend yet more long hours filtering water samples. On a plastic table under a tree filled with screeching fruit bats, they use a small motor to slowly pump the cloudy river water through a filter. The pores are small enough to catch scraps of DNA and the filters will be analysed later at a lab in the US, where researchers will look for manatee DNA. Results should be available in a few months, and Keith-Diagne eagerly anticipates them. “This might be one of the bigger discoveries of my entire career in Africa,” she says.
For now, the team is thrilled with the anecdotal evidence. But even with this new information, there are few solid facts about the lives of African manatees. “So much is unknown,” says Keith-Diagne. She hopes to expand our knowledge of basic information, including their range, how often they have calves, how long they raise them for and their average lifespan.
Every river is a chance to learn something new. Along the Milo, we meet a man who says he has seen manatees regularly, including a mother and calf. The fisher says the animals make deep holes in the riverbed and use them during the dry season, when water levels drop. These are his best fishing spots, he adds. He leads us to a bend in the watercourse where he says manatees congregate, and here we find a possible clue to their presence: crushed clamshells on the riverbank. This points to another peculiarity of African manatees. Although other manatee species are vegetarian, Keith-Diagne has and also sucking the meat off fish trapped in fishing nets.
Manatees taste like beef
Where the Milo meets the Niger, the river braids and winds through a series of feathered sandbanks. Here, fisher N’Fali Keita squats, picking leaves and sticks from his casting net. Speaking to Haba, he says he has seen manatees at the nearby mouth of the Milo, but they always swim away. Two years ago, however, one got caught and died in someone else’s fishing net. “It was beautiful,” he says. Then, as if confirming Keith-Diagne’s concerns, he adds: “The meat tastes like beef.”
I am struck by how bittersweet it would be to confirm the existence of manatees in this extraordinary location – to know that they are here, but also that they face a perilous future. On the way back from another day of interviews and water sample collection, I chat with Camara and Sangbe about this. Despite the dangers from dam building and local hunters, they see deforestation as the biggest threat facing Guinea’s wildlife. And they believe the only way to protect manatees is through a government campaign to raise awareness and educate people about them.
Sangbe, his usual humorous demeanour gone, says: “If nothing changes, if nothing is done, . That’s it.”
John Wendle is a journalist and photographer based in Senegal. More of his work can be seen at johnwendle.com
