The death of a species
Remembering Sudan, the last male Northern White Rhino
Any life is but a measurement of time spent worthwhile, and in this case the existence of a whole species laid on the shoulders of one sturdy old globe trotter, that did more for his peers than any other animal before him.
You might have already heard it in the news or somewhere else. On the 19 March 2018 something dreadful happened, something that foreshadows the final fate of an iconic animal species, the rhino. Sudan, the last male Northern White Rhino was euthanised as a result to an infection he fought for several months. He was surrounded by his care takers, most honorable men that give their best to keep the fading hope alive of saving his sub species from extinction.
He died an old man, 45 years of age, the human equivalent of 90 years. A long time on earth for someone that was forced to see the merciless decline of his own kin down to a mere three, of which two are his own daughter (Najin) and grand daughter (Fatu). The consequence of the unforgiving impact of humanity on these animals through poaching and warmongering. In 2015 through a series of tests it became clear that Sudans fertility has reached its due date and he had to be kept separately from the other rhinos for his own safety.
A lot has been tried to bring the numbers back up despite Sudans infertility, with IVF (In vitro Fertilisation) scientists from Kenya and all over the world try to fertilise eggs from Sudans offspring with his own preserved semen, unfortunately all attempts were unsuccessful so far and it will only get more difficult as Najin and Fatu grow older.
So the all over shadowing question is where do those he left behind go? I for one count me as such, for I had the privilege to share a rather unique and special bond with Sudan. Two years after his birth In 1975, just at the peek of the renewed Russian oppression in Czechoslovakia Sudan and five other Northern White Rhinos were captured in todays South Sudan and brought to the Zoo of Dvůr Králové. Right around that time my father was able to start his new life in Germany after escaping Prague at the dawn of the Prague Spring when soviet troops invaded his home town. Both, Sudan and my father were forced to settle in new unknown environments and they prevailed, they prevailed to such a degree that they were able to create a family and foremost to sustain its livehood.
In the years that followed I came into existence and grew up in a sheltered middle class home in one of Germany's most prosperous phases. We were able to travel a lot and see much of the world. At a young age I had the opportunity to see many different countries and get an understanding of the vastness of our planet. One such travel led us back to my fathers home country, a place I have grown very fond of over the years. We visited all those he had to leave behind, my aunt, cousin and grandparents, people he hasn't been able to see for decades before the Iron Curtain saw its demise. And it was their idea to visit a certain zoo at a very fateful day. I was around six years old and it was my aunts' hand that led me to an enclosure at the eastern end of the zoo. I have to admit that my memory is blurry and all I know is that I was there in front of the fence that separated me from him. If you would have asked Sudan, he would have had the same difficulties remembering me, as rhinos have very bad eye sight and I was hardly in his reach. Interestingly it was only shortly before I left my plane in Kenya years later that I remembered this fateful encounter.
It was in the summer of 2016 that I crossed the border of the Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Nanyuki, without my family this time and with a film crew that tried to bring awareness to the terrible fate of Sudan and his species. Over the years the numbers of Northern White Rhinos declined steadily, from the around 40 still living animals in the midst of the nineties (The date where I met him for the first time.) to the last eight which where held in human captivity and under strictest security standards. In 2009 he was brought to the sanctuary of the reserve with the ambition to provide a more species-appropriate environment to reproduce for him, his two offsprings and another rhino bull named Suni. Five years later Suni and another male that was held in San Diego Zoo died which made Sudan the last surviving male Northern White Rhino on earth.
An extremly saddening fact that shamefully depicts humanity's greed in its most destructive nature. To secure Sudan and the other rhinos a troop of around 40 rangers is needed to prevent any possibility of poaching in and around the Northern White enclosure. We were made aware of the rhinos safety regulations and after settling into our camp we made our way to the rhinos where the care takers waited for us. They showed us around, giving us the opportunity to interview some of the other rangers and to film the poaching counter measures that are funded by donations and sponsors from all over the world. Tracking dogs from britain, gear from the U.S. and Europe and the men from Kenya make up the defense line against the invading demand for rhino horn on Asian and western markets. With an estimated worth of 60.000 $ rhino horn is one of the worlds most valuable resources, leaving even gold and platinum as commodities behind. How can something that consists of keratin, the same material as our own hair and finger nails gain such a value? You can't answer this question with reason, because where there is reason there needs to be profound knowledge of a given topic. And that is something that truly lacks in areas where the demand for horn is the biggest; in China for example, where the deluded elite celebrates their ignorance by snorting pulverised horn in hope it gives them lasting Libido. Now think of Sudan, the last heir to a species whose ancestry goes back 50 Million years, that is more than 10 times we have been here. Whilst we were starting to look into the plains for food, the rhino already reigned it and gracefully carved its path through history untill again being confronted with this little mammal that once looked so puny and helpless, but now multiplied to such an extent, that even the mighty rhinoceros stood no chance and slowly tracked back to uninhabitable grounds where it is now fighting for survival.
In front of Sudans enclosure I was getting ready to meet him again. I must have checked my camera equipment a dozen times, cleaned my memory cards and freed my lenses from non existing dust. Zacharia Mutai, the ranger on duty that day taught us how to behave around the old guy. Approaching him came with some restrictions. It was of utmost importance to only get close to him from the right side, cause he was getting progressively blind on his left eye. Carefully Zacharia led us behind the fence towards the abode place of Sudan. From afar I heard heavy steps and the panting respiration of tired and overused lungs. Zacharia already knew of my Czech origin after I told him of that day in the zoo of Dvůr Králové. He told me that whenever the old care takers from the Czech Republic come down to look how their longtime companion is doing they would talk in Czech to him, he suggested I should do the same.
After he called Sudans name multiple times and lured him with fresh hay, the heavy stomps came closer and then finally he appeared in front of us. This humongous and gracious animal that travelled half the world, whilst beating all odds, now stood once again before me. He had no haste and was following Zacharia in a well studied maenor that showed me the strong bond they shared and the trust his care taker must have incorporated.
Both wandered around the enclosure communicating in silence and an unspoken agreement of mutual comfort, just the occasional 'Sudan' spoken in a very monotonous voice filled the wide ranging area. Sudan ignored the camera for most of the time; the rich abundance of hay made sure he was kept busy. I followed Zacharias every command and was able to move casually around the safe side of Sudan. At one point I began talking to him in Czech to get his attention, at first he listened vaguely, but then the flapping ears signaled me he had heard me and acknowledged my presence. I called him by 'Děda', which means grandpa and somehow I got his full attention. He turned to me and moved towards my camera. I hid behind a little tree to get a better shot and he seemed to have understood my intention. He waited for me to get the footage, gently looking and full of the one thing he showed throughout his entire life: Patience. This compassionate creature that once crossed my path before now had found the tranquility and serenity in a place that was build to give him the best possible life and to make up for humanities wrongdoings over the past centuries.
He lived his last moments as the sole surviving male in dignity and in an environment made for his well being. All those great people around him worked tirelessly to show that we not only are able to destroy but to preserve the heritage that was bestowed upon us as the leading species on earth. I have learned one thing from Sudan, it is that the responsibility every one of us has to carry is but there for one reason, to make sure that we share this planet with the same beings we shared it with when we were brought into this world. In Sudans case I can only hope that the sacrifices he made earned him a spot with his ancestors, with whom he now runs and storms and reigns the plains as he should have done in his life time, as the king of a species, not through imminent extinction and fatal reduction of his kin but as the alpha animal he has been all along. He was nicknamed 'Last male standing' and he will probably always be known as such, till maybe under some lucky circumstances science gets ahead of human misdemeanor and we can undo the mistakes of our past.
“I gave Sudan one last scratch on his ear. He leaned his heavy head into mine and the skies opened up just as they had when he arrived in Ol Pejeta nine years ago.”
-Ami Vitale, Nat Geo, on saying good bye to a life long friend