by Jane Goodall
This is Theobroma cacao, the tree whose seeds provide us with that most delectable of all culinary delights, chocolate, the “food of the gods.” The football-size seedpods produce almond-size seeds, surrounded by soft pulp. It takes ten or more seedpods to get one pound of cocoa. (CREDIT: DEBRA MUSIC)
With the help of caring landowners and committed volunteers, the endangered native grasses and other flora of the North American prairies are being saved and protected. A few decades ago this beautiful blowout penstemon (Penstemon haydenii) was almost extinct, but it is now being lovingly restored in the Nebraska Sandhills. (CREDIT: ALAN J. BARTELS)
BEFORE: One of the most amazing restoration projects I know of. This is what’s possible when humans and plants work together to restore a devastated landscape. This first picture shows the wasteland created by twenty years of quarrying by Bamburi Cement Ltd. near the Kenya coast. (CREDIT: RENE HALLER)
AFTER: Now we see the same piece of land after the company’s horticulturist, Rene Haller, spent years observing nature, planting different kinds of trees, and experimenting with plants. “Haller Park” is now a lush wildlife habitat, and until 2007 it was the home of Owen and Mzee—the famous hippopotamus and tortoise who befriended each other after Owen lost his mother during the tsunami. (CREDIT: RENE HALLER)
Only a series of miracles prevented Kokia cookei from becoming extinct. The extraordinary story behind this photo illustrates the strength of the “will to live.” (CREDIT: DAVID EICKHOFF)
The Callery pear that amazingly survived the 9/11 attack after being buried in the rubble of the fallen Twin Towers. “Survivor” now blossoms each spring. You can see where the charred trunk ends and the branches of new growth begin. Even the darkest of times cannot crush the power of life. Always there is hope. (CREDIT: JULIE FELSHER)
ALSO BY JANE GOODALL
50 Years at Gombe
Hope for Animals and Their World
(with Thane Maynard and Gail Hudson)
Harvest for Hope
(with Gary McAvoy and Gail Hudson)
The Ten Trusts
(with Marc Bekoff)
Beyond Innocence
(with Dale Peterson)
Africa in My Blood
(with Dale Peterson)
Reason for Hope
(with Phillip Berman)
My Life with the Chimpanzees
With Love
(illustrated by Alan Marks)
Visions of Caliban
(with Dale Peterson)
Through a Window
In the Shadow of Man
Gratitude
This book has taken three years to research, write, cut, and edit. Looking back—oh, the people with whom I have corresponded, talked to on the phone, met, exchanged views. People from whom I have learned, who have enriched me, educated me. And we are all united by a love of the natural world.
At times I thought the book would never be finished—and indeed, it could have gone on and on as I found more and more fascinating stories that I wanted to include. And of course the manuscript got too long! Some of the stories could be shortened. Others were so full of important details that it had to be all-or-nothing. Those that have been cut from the book will soon be posted on my blog at the Jane Goodall Institute website, www.janegoodall.org/seedsofhope.
“To begin at the beginning.” With my family! At least in part I am the person I am due to genetics—I inherited my father’s constitution. How else could I have maintained my insane schedule, on the road three hundred days of the year, giving lectures around the world, and found the energy to gather information about the plant kingdom and write this book. But storytelling—that gift comes from my Welsh forebears on my mother’s side, or so I’m told.
But genes are only part of it, and environment and upbringing most assuredly played a major role in molding my clay. My childhood experiences at The Birches, as well as the mix of wonderful characters who made up my immediate family, had a huge influence on the adult I would become. My grandmother Danny (Elizabeth Hornby Joseph) and her daughter, Olly (Elizabeth Olwen), both loved gardening. My mother, Vanne—pronounced Van—(Margaret Myfanwe), was a writer, and when my school essays came back covered in red x’s because of my poor spelling and handwriting, it was she who told me that the substance of the essay was by far the most important and had me read my essays and stories and poems aloud to the family. And my brilliant Uncle Eric (William Eric), who came home most weekends from war-torn London, always encouraged me to go one better than my best. Rusty, my constant companion on all my wanderings in the cliffs and chines. My beloved Beech—always when I get home, I spend quiet time with him, feel the energy under the bark.
And, too, my childhood was surrounded by books—so many books in every room. And they, and their long-dead authors, influenced me too. I can never forget the plants that Hugh Lofting described that lived on the Moon, especially the vain lilies that talked to each other. And there were the jungles of Rudyard Kipling and Edgar Rice Burroughs. And there was that book that shaped and channeled my scientific curiosity about the natural world, The Miracle of Life.
O Vanne, how can I ever thank you. And Danny, Olly, Uncle Eric. All of you—up on that cloud—will love this book. You sang the first notes of it when I was a child, and I have not forgotten. Without my family and my wonderful upbringing, this book could not have been written. My sister is still very much alive and will be thanked later.
Let me not forget those crazy seventeenth- and eighteenth-century plant hunters who ventured into remote parts of the world to bring back species that were new and exotic then, many of which are a normal part of our gardens and parks today. And just wait, dear reader, until you can read on my blog the almost unbelievable story of David Nelson and the breadfruits, the true raison d’être for the mutiny on the Bounty, and the full story of the indomitable Ernst Wilson and how he acquired his “lily limp.” I salute you all. I admire and thank you for your indomitable spirits, for enriching us with stories of deprivation and danger, and for the pure joy you have given all of us who love plants.
It will have been obvious to anyone reading this book how much I love trees. I learned something about their strange prehistoric ancestor, Eospermatopteris, commonly known as Wattieza, from Dr. William E. Stein, Professor of Biological Sciences at Binghamton University. Thank you so much.
Several people have shared with me their special relationships with individual trees, and I am so very grateful that they did so. Dana Lyons—your song, “The Tree,” is so hauntingly beautiful, and I shall share it on our blog. And Myron Eshowsky and Chiu Sein Tuck, your stories are wonderful. I would never have met Tuck had it not been for Andy Brown and Andrew McAulay, who allow me to stay in the little bungalow in the middle of Kadoorie Farm & Botanic Garden, where I am surrounded not only by marvelous trees but also by wild boar, porcupines, and other wildlife. Thank you, thank you. And thanks also to Julia Butterfly Hill, for reading and adding to my account of your marvelous relationship with Luna. I hope people will read your book, The Legacy of Luna, and learn more about the weeks you lived in her branches, the storms you endured, the love that grew between you.
I am eternally grateful to a number of people who have helped me to travel to the forests of the world. First, of course, Louis Leakey, who taught me so much about the plants of Olduvai on our Sunday adventures, when we took a day off from the hard work of digging for fossils and set off to explore different places. Then there is the intrepid Dr. Michael Fay. Mike, not only have you done so much to help save forests, but you have made it possible for me to visit some of the most beautiful of them. I remember with delight when I spent two days with you during your marathon walk throughout the historic range of the great redwood forests. You even added my little tent and extra supplies to your already weighty backpack, since I was unfit from a life of airplanes and hotels! We sat in the dark after supper, wrapped in our sleeping bags against the cold, while you told me more about the history of forestry there, the many peop
le who had lost their lives, the thousands of giant trees that had been killed. And outlined your hope for the future.
And then, Mike, you persuaded the National Geographic Society to fund an expedition to the forests of the Goualougo Triangle—that last Eden hidden in the swamps of the Congo Basin. There I met ancient forest giants that had never heard the sound of ax or chainsaw. One night was special: the leaves on the forest floor gave out phosphorescent light when we disturbed them with our feet. You told me that this phenomenon was rare and how one night you had sat spellbound as the Pygmies, one by one, disappeared beyond the light of the fire, covered themselves with these leaves, and ran back, each one magically seeming to be a different animal.
There were other people involved in that Goualougo adventure. Michael “Nick” Nichols was the National Geographic photographer. I have known Nick for more than twenty years, and we have worked together on stories about chimpanzees—revealing their plight in the wild and their exploitation for the live animal trade, medical research, entertainment, and the pet industry. When working on those issues, Nick, you even persuaded my son, Grub, to go with you to the forests of Sierra Leone—where both of you nearly died from some terrible tropical fever! And thank you, Nick, for donating that amazing picture of Mike Fay trekking through the swamps with the Pygmy guides.
David Quammen, you not only wrote up the National Geographic magazine story “Jane in the Forest Again” but also tended my blistered feet, advising me to bind them up with camera tape—it worked! Dr. Crickette Sanz and Dr. Dave Morgan, I shall always be grateful to you for the way you welcomed me to your forest paradise, introduced me to your chimpanzees, and shared your camp and your stories. It is like a dream now, as I look back. And an integral part of that dream are the Pygmies—I wish I could thank each of you in person. You shared your knowledge about chimpanzees, told me stories of their life, and cooked me a fantastic meal of brilliant-orange forest mushrooms and green forest leaves.
Dr. Don Jacobs, you are indeed a true friend. You organized my trips to Costa Rica and made it possible for me to see something of the forest there. We went together on the canopy walkway, and we had dinner with President Óscar Arias, who has done so much to save the environment. And as if that was not enough, you also arranged for me to go with you to the rain forest of the Mamoni Valley Preserve in Panama, where you introduced me to Nathan Gray and Lider Sucre of Earth Train, and Colin Weil of EcoGroup. Nathan, you really looked after me, bringing hot coffee to my tent early in the morning when the night calls of the howler monkeys were still ringing in my ears. I got to know some of the local indigenous tribe, the Kuna, who work for Earth Train. And we survived one of the most dramatic river crossings ever—the cars were submerged almost over their bonnets (hoods) and the current was strong. I shall always remember how two of the Kuna tested the depth, riding across on their horses—what superb horsemen they are.
Special thanks to Panta Kasoma, Executive Director of JGI-Uganda, and Peter Appell, Manager of Field Programs, for several wonderful walks in Kibale and Budongo forests, where we have a snare-removal program and are helping to protect chimpanzee forest habitats and link them along the Albertine Rift by means of a leafy corridor. And to Rebeca Atencia, Executive Director of JGI–Congo-Brazzaville, and her husband, Fernando Turmo, for incredible explorations of the canyon forests and the Kouilou River, which flows through enchanted forests in a faraway part of the world.
And I must also thank my good friend Randall Tolpinrud, of Pax Natura Foundation. I received a most unusual award from your foundation: a Native American blanket, presented by Forrest Cuch, which adorns my bed in Bournemouth. This is the place where I have written almost all of this book (and the one before)—sitting on that very blanket! You told me about the amazing Paul Rokich, who reforested the Black Mountains—initially working all on his own. I have not met Paul, but you persuaded him to send me a leaf from one of the first trees he planted all those years ago. Randall, you even hand-carried a homemade meal on a plane from Utah to Tom Mangelsen’s cabin in rural Nebraska so I could have a special birthday dinner while working on the book last April. How you got it all through security was a miracle!
And, Randall, you also put us in touch with your friend, public-interest attorney Steven Druker, Executive Director of the Alliance for Bio-Integrity. Steven, it was so kind of you to fact-check our GMO chapter. I am greatly looking forward to reading your book about GMOs, Altered Genes, Twisted Truth. It promises to be the definitive work on the subject. And Claire Robinson, thank you for reading this same chapter and for your many helpful suggestions. Your generosity and knowledge were invaluable.
Dr. Hugh Bollinger, you, almost more than anyone else, have provided me with so much fascinating information about the kingdom of the plants. From the time when we first met, in Costa Rica, you have kept me up-to-date with everything you feel will interest me—throughout the time I was writing the last book as well as this one. And you provided us with the names of people who could help with fact-checking. You are a true friend.
I am grateful to Howard Bernstein. You located the photo you had shown me years ago of your son, Isaac, entranced by the flowers on his narcissus. Thank you so much.
I have always been fascinated by the medicine men and women, or traditional healers, in Tanzania. Here I want to thank Mikidadi Almasi Mfumya and Yusuph Rubondo, who welcomed me into their homes and shared information about their work. Yusuph, I loved your sense of humor. You shared that dramatic story about how you were seized by a python when you were a child and dragged toward the river—fortunately some villagers rescued you in the nick of time. The way you told it to us made it very funny. And Mikidadi, you were so delighted to show us around your forest garden, telling us stories of where the different medicinal plants came from.
Dr. Shadrack Kamenya, of our Gombe Stream Research Centre, helped to arrange those visits. You were with me and helped with translations and photography. And it was you who told me that two of our staff at Gombe are also skilled in the use of medicinal plants. One, Shaban Mbwama, is a close relative of Mzee Rubondo. The other, Madua Mbrisho, is a friend of my son—as small boys they swam and fished together in Lake Tanganyika.
Forester Aristides Kashula, for years you have been working with traditional healers, gaining their trust, persuading them to pass on their ancient herbal knowledge. You and botanist Grace Gobbo, of our TACARE staff, were eventually able to gain the trust of eighty-six medicine men and women in the area, and I thank you both for all the information you have shared with me.
Revocatus Edwards, in charge of the Kigoma region Roots & Shoots program, I must thank you for introducing me to the teachers and students of the Sokoine Primary School, where the students are protecting their forest and learning about medicinal plants. And Smita Dharsi, you generously shared your experiences at that school, teaching the children to draw those plants, providing them with their very first computers. You told me that when they first received them, they carried them as a mother cradles her infant, so precious were they.
Dr. Mark Plotkin, you have done so much to help protect the Latin American indigenous people and their forests, and you helped me so generously with information and photos for the chapter on the use of plants for healing. We have known each other a long time—sad that we have only met and talked in hotels when it is our passion for the forest that brought us together in the first place. You have taught me so much about the evil theft of medicinal plants, and you have fought so hard to address this wrong.
And Vandana Shiva, too, is a tireless crusader on this issue. Why have we never met, Vandana? But when we talk on the telephone, it is as though we are old friends—and that is how I feel, having heard so much about your life and work. I have such admiration for all you have done and am so grateful for the help you offered me for this book.
Other people provided wonderful material for the chapter about medicinal plants. Dr. Alison Jolly, it seems that you always have stories about everything I ask y
ou about! We have known each other for so many, many years and become such friends. This time you told me about the rosy periwinkle. And Terrence Brown, my Native American friend Chitcus, you have shared so much information about the healing plants, for you are a medicine man and use the knowledge you acquired from your mother, herself a skilled medicine woman. What amazing times we have shared, what stories you have told me about the history and culture of your Karuk people.
Dr. Mike Huffman, another old friend, how fortunate that you decided to study the ways in which chimpanzees, and other animals, use medicinal plants. Thank you so much for so freely sharing your findings and photos.
I also want to thank Michael Crook, who was born in China and loves the old traditions and the history of places. We have known each other since my friend Greg MacIsaac invited me to China seventeen years ago to visit the school (Western Academy of Beijing) where you both teach. Michael, you have taught me most of what I know about how a Westerner should behave in China, introduced me to key people, and with Greg served on the board of JGI-China since it began. It was you who organized the visit to Jane Tsao’s organic farm and told me about the famous herbalists of long ago, whose faded pictures were pinned to the wall of the old foresters’ hut in the woods.
Now, in my mind’s happy wandering, I am visiting botanical gardens and thinking of the extraordinarily talented and passionate people working there. Carlos Magdalena, master horticulturist of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, I know about your childhood in Spain and your botanical exploits around the world. You have shared with me many stories of plant rescue. Your enthusiasm brings those stories to life, and I am so very grateful.
Dr. Lourdes Rico Arce—or Lulú, as you like to be called—I have to thank you so much for the time you spent taking me around Kew’s Herbarium, showing me some of the type specimens sent back by those crazy plant hunters. It brought back memories of Gombe in the early days when Vanne was helping me with the collection of chimpanzee food plants. I told you how we had sent them to our great friend Dr. Bernard Verdcourt at the Coryndon Museum herbarium—and how calmly he had accepted and identified those mildewed specimens. It turned out that he was a great friend of yours, too. He would have loved this book.