By Divine Chakombera

We arrived at Tsuri Lodge as the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting an amber glow over the sweeping landscape. The journey had been long and punishing — we’d traveled via the Muzarabani route, a rough, dusty, and unforgiving path. Every jolt reminded us of Mbire’s remoteness, and when we finally stepped out of the vehicle, the evening’s stillness felt like a quiet reward.

Several colleagues had already settled at Mushumbi Pools, the administrative and logistical hub of the area. Laughter drifted from the dining area, where conversations ebbed and flowed in cheerful bursts. Reconnecting with Dr. Solomon Mungure—a stalwart dedicated to advancing rural communities—was a delightful highlight. Equally rewarding was seeing Dr. Moreangels Mbizah, who was also present, leading her dynamic team with both grit and grace as they broke barriers and drove impactful change. In that moment, the fatigue of travel dissolved into the warmth of shared purpose.

But the mood shifted abruptly when Simba from Wildlife Conservation Action shared a sobering account. “A woman narrowly escaped a lion attack in Masoka,” he said quietly. “She was dragged nearly 70 meters before her husband rescued her with a burning log.”

Just then, a heavy silence fell upon the room. No one questioned it—this is Mbire, where human-wildlife coexistence is intimate and often perilous. Simba’s story wasn’t an anomaly but a stark reminder of daily realities here.

Thus, we had come to conduct a training workshop under Danish Church Aid’s Utariri Project, focusing on biodiversity conservation, climate resilience, and sustainable livelihoods. Our work centered on Community Conservancies in Mbire South, North, and East—spanning 45,000 hectares of communal land, an area comparable to Bulawayo or Washington, D.C.

These conservancies are far more than lines on a map. They are living landscapes shaped by resilient communities, untamed wildlife, and the fragile balance between survival and coexistence. In Mbire, human-wildlife conflict isn’t a theoretical concern — It’s a harrowing daily challenge. Yet, communities persist, adapting and innovating to harmonize with the wild even as it resists.

Charles and I were tasked with strengthening the conservancies’ operational, legal, financial, and managerial foundations. Charles, our financial expert, led sessions on bookkeeping, transparency, and accountability systems while I focused on governance: environmental principles, leadership accountability, and the role of law in conservancy operations.

What struck me most was the participants’ engagement. They weren’t merely present — they asked questions, shared insights, and passionately explored how to make conservancies thrive for both wildlife and the people whose lives depend on this land.

Having traveled across Zimbabwe for this work, Mbire reignited my conviction. There’s an energy here, a raw, undiluted sense of purpose. The landscape, people, and history revived my spirit.

Mr. Mahuni of the Mbire Rural District Council anchored our sessions with a historical overview, tracing progress from the Communal Areas Management Programme for Indigenous Resources (CAMPFIRE’s) early days to today’s challenges: resource exploitation, legal gaps, and chronic underinvestment. Yet his narrative held a deeper promise that with investment, coordination, and political will, Mbire could model people-led conservation.

The key takeaway? This work cannot be done alone. Community efforts, however passionate, need scaffolding. They require support from governments, donors, civil society, and private actors committed to the long game and investing in local capacity, governance, and policies that center communities.

If we envision a future where people and wildlife thrive together, action is urgent. Now!
Fund the work. Support the structures. Reform the laws. Walk alongside communities.

For conservation’s success isn’t measured solely by species protected, it’s measured by the number of people we empower to protect them.