Turning the tide: Former poachers lead fight to save Mau Eburu forest

‎Solomon Mureithi (right) leads his team from the Mau Eburu Forest Joint Surveillance Unit as they install a camera trap to monitor wildlife and curb illegal activities like poaching. [Kipsang Joseph, Standard]

Deep inside Mau Eburu forest, where shafts of light struggle to pierce the dense canopy, Solomon Mureithi stands on a steep slope, fastening a green metal onto a moss covered tree trunk.

His hands move with the ease of a man who has done this countless times. Around him, five other members of the surveillance unit tighten straps, take measurements and step back to test the angle of the Camera trap.

It is part of their routine patrol, a daily ritual in one of Kenya’s most rugged conservation frontiers. The men work quietly, listening to the forest breathe, the crack of twigs, the rush of wind through cedar leaves and the distant hornbill call. From far, they could be mistaken for a team of scientists at work.

Every man in this patrol team was once a hunter and none was more feared in Eburu than Mureithi.At 59, the father of five moves with surprising agility, climbing the ridges with a field notebook and a map tucked under his arm. “I was not a good person. I was a very notorious poacher. Charcoal burning and hunting were my daily life,” he said. Living just about 700 meters from the forest, he had easy access to the dense slopes of Eburu. For years, he hunted buffalo, antelopes and the critically endangered mountain bongo, prized for its sweet, lean meat.

“It was about survival and money, but everything changed in 2002 when I was approached by researchers studying mountain bongos. They taught me about conservation and the importance of protecting the forest and its animals and I saw the light. They offered me a job and this is how my 25-year journey in conservation began,” said Mureithi.

The mountain bongo is one of the rarest species, restricted to isolated highland forests such as Eburu. Once numbering around 500 in the 1970s, their population has now fallen to fewer than 100 in the wild.

UNDP Administrator Alexander De Croo and Rhino Ark CEO Christian Lambrechts take in the panoramic views from a Mau Eburu Forest viewpoint while learning about community-led conservation efforts. [Kipsang Joseph, Standard]

“This is why every patrol, every camera trap, every effort counts. Seeing a bongo, even once in many years, shows our work is not in vain,” he added. 

Today, he walks up to 12 kilometres daily during patrols. He leads a six-man team of former poachers, including Peter Njoroge from Songoroi, a village next to the forest. Mureithi admits he once set multiple traps daily to feed his nine children and even sold bush meat locally.

“One day I was caught on camera traps and summoned to the forester's office. At first, I hid for three days, thinking I would be punished, but instead, they taught me the value of wildlife. Now poachers are my enemies,” he said with a smile.

The team is part of a community-led initiative supported by Rhino Ark. They divide the forest into six sections, patrolling on foot, removing snares, maintaining the 43.3 kilometres of electric fence and recording every activity in field logs and GPS.

UNDP Administrator Alexander De Croo and Rhino Ark CEO Christian Lambrechts take in the panoramic views from a Mau Eburu Forest viewpoint while learning about community-led conservation efforts. [Kipsang Joseph, Standard]

While Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) and Kenya Forest Service KFS enforce legal action, the scouts’ deep, first-hand knowledge of poaching makes them invaluable in protecting this critical ecosystem.

The patrols also rely on technology. The green coloured camera traps, strategically placed near animal tracks, salt lick and watering points, capture up to 2,600 images each.

“We hide them so even poachers cannot spot them. The cameras document wildlife movements, particularly mountain bongos, of which fewer than 100 remain. In 25 years, we have only seen mountain bongos six times. The camera traps are crucial for monitoring them and planning reintroduction,” said Mureithi.

Beyond surveillance, the team engages with local communities, promoting livelihoods. The Eburu Natural Forest Honey Cooperative Society, formed in 2021, trains farmers in commercial-grade beekeeping. In 2024, over 3,400 kilograms of honey were harvested, generating income without harming the forest.

Community engagement also focuses on education. Since 2013, conservation programmes have reached 32 schools, fostering environmental awareness among children. The Community Conservation Champions, launched in 2018, empowers volunteers to act as local conservation leaders.

UNDP Administrator Alexander De Croo and Rhino Ark CEO Christian Lambrechts take in the panoramic views from a Mau Eburu Forest viewpoint while learning about community-led conservation efforts. [Kipsang Joseph, Standard]

“We have written books on medicinal plants and conservation, created awareness in homes and schools and now the forest is respected,” said John Makori, community conservation group chair.

Lydia Nyota, chairperson of the Eburu Forest Association, says communities have embraced sustainable alternatives. “Biogas and beekeeping provide income. People now see that killing animals is not a solution. Our forest conservation has ensured sufficient rain and bumper harvests,” she said.

The impact is measurable. Data from Rhino Ark show that illegal logging in Eburu dropped by 97 per cent between 2022 and 2025. Livestock incursions have declined significantly and wildlife is steadily recovering. The electric fence, completed in 2014, helps mitigate human-wildlife conflict, protecting both farmers and animals.

“Eburu is part of the Mau Forest Complex, a critical water tower. Protecting it is not just about wildlife, it is about water security, livelihoods and sustaining communities,” said Rhino Ark CEO Christian Lambrechts.

But challenges remain. Rugged terrain hampers patrols, some community members distrust conservationists and drought-season fires pose constant threats as machinery cannot access steep valleys and hills.