Busy with the Lizzies: plant hunting in East Africa
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
by Dr. M. Nicholson
Next time you pass a florist or garden centre in the USA or Europe, stop for a moment and think where those flowers originated. All of them were once wild flowers and were transported to the ‘Western world’ over the last century or two, where they were propagated, selected, bred and multiplied so they could adorn your house or garden.
In China, various collectors such as Sung Chu Chien, Robert Fortune and George Forrest collected thousands of new species for horticulture, or for scientific/ethnobotanical research. South Africa is famous for its garden plants such as Kniphofia, Agapanthus, Clivia, Gazanea, Osteospermum etc. while tropical Africa is less well known for its flamboyant flowers because it tends to be either forest, dry grassland or desert.
The two most famous flowers from East Africa are Busy Lizzies (Impatiens) and the African Violets (Saintpaulia [L]), which are named after the Prussian colonial soldier, Walter von Saint Paul-Illaire). The latter have recently been renamed Streptocarpus after another group of very closely related plants. There are about 35 or so species and sub-species, each coming from different areas of the Eastern arc mountains, one of four African botanical ‘hotspots’.
Fashion is a strange thing: 50 years ago, African Violets were all the rage but these days they are regarded as very outdated, in the same way that Aspidistra was popular before the Second World War. So, flower companies have to be ready for the next craze. Busy (or Bizzie) Lizzies (I.walleriana) have been very popular for decades but now the smaller and more gaudy New Guinean (I. hawkeri) and Asian species are moving strongly into the market.
I collected my Dutch colleague at Kilimanjaro International and we set off on an annual hunt, not just for new species but to collect wild material from well-known commercial species, which are increasingly susceptible to fungal and other diseases. By cross-breeding with wild material, disease resistance can be increased. My job is to propagate them in my botanic garden before we get an export permit for breeding in Central or South America, Thailand or the Philippines, after which they are multiplied in the Netherlands or the U.S.A.
My companion is the only collector in an American-Dutch company of more than 6,000 employees, simply because no one else wants to do the job and they are quite happy to stay in their greenhouses. Collecting involves traveling to remote places, be they in China, Mexico, Irian Jaya or Bolivia. Fortunately, my pal is a hardy soul: in 2021 during Covid, he and his wife completed the Te Araoa walk in New Zealand (where they have permanent residence). It took them five months, averaging 28km per day for the 3000 km. walk, carrying up to 30kg each on their backs. What is most remarkable is that he swears they never had an argument in spite of frequent privations and sometimes inclement weather. Last year they did a 400 km late summer walk in Greenland sleeping on the ground in -5C.
We headed to Amani (meaning ‘Peace’ in Swahili) which was established as a botanical garden at the turn of the 20th century in what was then German East Africa. It is located in the rainforest of the East Usambara mountains about 30 km from the coastal town of Tanga. Three thousand hectares of native forest were destroyed in order to test plant species from all over the tropics with commercial potential.
Today the area is part of a nature reserve adjacent to small farms growing spices (cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg) and a cultivar of very high value cocoa. Sadly, the botanic garden is rarely visited and accommodation is basic to say the least. On arrival it was pouring as usual and the original guesthouse was under restoration. The temporary lodging was fine except we had no electricity, no water, no cooking facilities and no food so we escaped to a nearby village, which at least had beer. Collecting can be fun but one has to be prepared to get lost, hungry, wet and covered in mud.
From there we headed 30km as the crow flies (but seven hours by vehicle) to Lushoto in the higher West Usambara mountains. The environmental tragedy of the area is due to the population increase (twenty-five times the population of a century ago) which has led to massive deforestation. Less than 300 sq. km. of native forest remains, compared to 2,000 sq. km. in the Udzungwa in the south (but better than the 5 sq. km. of undisturbed forest that remains in the Taita hills in the same mountain group in Kenya).
We spend the day exploring valleys, streams and forests, normally disappearing in different directions. When we find Busy Lizzies we collect both whole plants and seed. Plants are stored in sealable plastic bags in cold boxes with ice packs which ensure the plants remain fresh for at least a week. Impatiens species come in all sorts of sizes from plants 10cm high to others over 2m.
Last year we lost each other. We could not communicate as I had a Kenya SIM and he had a Dutch one with no Wi-Fi. But I was able to use someone else’s phone with a Tanzanian SIM who SMSed my colleague’s wife in the Netherlands who was then able to call her husband to tell him where I was. After three hours we were reunited, each blaming the other for lack of a proper back-up plan.
The global value of the trade in Impatiens is between US$ 1.8 and 2.9 bn and we both feel that our own contribution to that market is hugely undervalued!
From Lushoto, we crossed the Kenya border at Taveta heading for Kasigau, an 1100m inselberg in the semi-arid coastal zone of Kenya but close to the Tanzanian border. The outcrop has a sinister recent history. In 1915 the small local tribe, the wa-Kasigau, were unaware that a World War was going on. The British in Kenya were fighting the German schutztruppe on the border. To the Kasigau, all white people (wazungu) were ‘brothers’ and this assumption turned tragic. German troops crossed into Kenya and tricked the wa-Kasigau by saying they wanted to visit their ‘brothers’ and asked for directions to the British camp. The Germans killed several British soldiers at Kasigau Hill but left a note for the British saying that the local community around the hill “willingly showed us where the British base was and please pass on our regards to your loyal subjects for their help”. The Chief and his two assistants were sentenced to death for treason by the British. This execution was a true historical event and was later fictionalised in a novel. The British then exiled the entire community to Malindi on the Kenya coast. But the coastal tribes had been warned by the British that the wa-Kasigau were cannibals, so their water sources were poisoned and many people died. The Malindi exile lasted slightly over 20 years. By the time the Kasigau returned home, the offspring of their tribal cousins from the nearby Taita hills, had been educated and developed while the Kasigau people had been neglected. Their land (rich in gemstones like tsavorite and tanzanite) was also taken and allocated to ranches and hunting blocks. The Kasigau tribe is today squeezed into a small area around the hill. Exile resulted in pain and poverty and generally hampered development in the minority tribe. I have searched official military documents for this story but have yet to come up with a means of verification.
Anyway, the walk is long and tough. There is no water on the mountain; so we always carry our own at that low altitude, which means several litres. Around the base of the mountain, one often bumps into elephants as it is a wildlife corridor linking Tsavo National Park in Kenya with Mkomazi National Park in N. Tanzania.
In the foreground (left) is a steep rock known as the “Hill of Execution”.
Ladies who had been caught in adulterous behaviour were thrown off the cliff face. When I asked what happened to their male lovers, the reply was “Nothing of course”.
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